#it was easy to make and lasted a long time

[mooningningg]

notes, changed the appearance little bit but hey, your favorite is back!

★ Roommate!Sukuna who brings you to a drive thru after the devils tango.

The sheets are still tangled, warm from everything you just did. Your hair’s a mess. His lip is a little bitten. The air’s heavy with what just happened, but neither of you says anything for a minute.

You’re curled up next to him, your cheek against his chest, listening to the dull thump of his heart under skin still sticky with sweat.

Sukuna stretches a little, groaning like a man thrice his age. "Shit. I'm starving."

You hum lazily. “You’ve got leftover noodles in the fridge.”

"Yeah, and you’ve got no taste. That crap’s soggy as fuck now."

There’s a pause before he mutters, like it's some great secret:

"...You wanna hit the McDonald’s drive-thru?”

You look up at him, blinking. “Seriously?” He glares down at you. “Don’t make me repeat myself, brat. Get your pants.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his car — no bra, hoodie stolen from his floor, your legs crisscrossed in the passenger seat. He’s shirtless with a flannel barely buttoned and hair still damp from a too-quick rinse. He pulls into the drive-thru like a menace.

You lean across him to squint at the menu. “Can I get the spicy—” "You're not getting that, you're a fucking lightweight," he cuts in. “Every time, your stomach dies. And guess who deals with it.”

You flip him off, but he’s already rolling the window down.

“Hi, welcome to McDonald’s, can I take your order?”

Sukuna leans halfway out. “Yeah, gimme a double cheeseburger, large fries, uh… the chicken nuggets—ten piece, not that pussy six one—and a Coke.”

You reach over. “And a McFlurry.”

“No. You always eat two bites and hand me the rest like I’m your damn trashcan.”

“I’ll finish it this time!”

“You said that last week, dumbass.”

You both keep bickering until the voice crackles again. “…You guys done ordering?”

A long pause. Then: "Yeah, we’re done,” Sukuna grits out, running a hand over his face. “Just throw in the fuckin' ice cream, whatever."

You’re halfway through your nuggets, bare feet on the dash, when Sukuna tears off a piece of his burger and hands it to you without looking. “Here. You like the way they grill the patties, right?”

You blink at him. “How do you even remember that?”

“Because I listen, dumbass.” He says it like you’re the idiot for not knowing. “Also, you always fucking moan when you eat it. It’s disturbing.”

You laugh, and he finally glances at you — a little sideways, soft for no reason at all.

Later, when your head’s against the window and your fries are tucked in your hoodie pocket for easy snacking, he glances over again. His fingers brush your knee, resting there casually, grounding you both.

“…Don’t fall asleep, idiot. You’re gonna choke on a fry and I’m not giving you mouth-to-mouth.”

But his thumb strokes slow circles on your leg the whole ride home.

divider by: @cafekitsune

[egregiousderp]

Retail worker of fifteen years. My first store was in one of those complexes with an outdoor seating area with live music and “artisanal wines” next to an organic “American owned and made” dogfood store.

The number of times I had people buying steak for their dog while refusing to donate a cent to the causes we had to ask for was…significant.

The problem isn’t so much money as the belief that they have money because they’re inherently smarter, better people than you. Never mind that half the people trying to break even around me had amazing degrees they then couldn’t find jobs for because this was during the last recession.

I was cutting fruit with an Egyptian lady who’d been a professor of philosophy in Egypt and then was stuck there with me, and working after in a gas station. My team lead had a degree in microbiology. And we were being paid to listen to someone ask us where the blueberries are from and whether the sour cream was gluten free, as an excuse specifically to yell at us.

I had a professor I went to straight after talk me how he pop quizzed the stock clerks on the floor about correct temperatures everywhere he went. And, unthinking, I asked “oh, so they work with cold foods or no?” And he looked at me crazy.

Long story short, this is why my family makes fun of me when I take in carts at rival stores when I park far out, or fix up shelves where I go, or pull all the plates and cups together if I go out to eat so it’s easy lifting for the people attending tables, and why I keep money in my wallet for every homeless person who ever asks me for anything.

Thinking you’re different because you’re more “deserving” than other people changes you.

I never want to grow up to be the kind of person who stops seeing people as people and wants to do something at their same level to help.

we asked the average "i'm sooo empathetic ai brings out my maternal instincts🥹" person how they treat real human retail employees

[cameronsbabydoll]

BASIC TRAINING — CHAPTER FOURTEEN

WARNINGS — Public fingering, exhibitionism, dirty talk, daddy kink, possessive behavior, power imbalance, emotional intensity, references to sexual content, 18+ only.

You’re not sure how Rafe pulled it off, getting you off base without your dad’s men tailing you, but he did. The truck’s engine rumbles low as you speed down a backroad, the military base shrinking in the rearview mirror, its concrete walls and watchtowers fading into the golden haze of late afternoon. You’re in the passenger seat, your sundress hiked up just enough to show the bruises on your thighs—Rafe’s marks, left from last night’s war-like claiming in his bunk. His dog tags glint under his open jacket, and he’s got one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your knee, his thumb brushing lazy circles that make your skin hum.

“You look good out here, sunshine,” he says, his voice low, smug, his eyes flicking to you with that possessive glint that makes your stomach flip. “Better than in that cage of a base.”

You smile, small and shy, because you feel it—free, for the first time in weeks, like you’re not the Captain’s daughter, not the good girl sneaking around, just his. “Where are we going?” you ask, your voice soft, your fingers playing with the hem of your dress.

He grins, sharp and boyish, and it’s the kind of grin that makes you forget he’s dangerous, forget he’s got a reassignment order hanging over his head. “Gonna spoil you today,” he says. “Show you off. Make sure everyone knows you’re mine.”

Your cheeks warm, and you duck your head, because you’re still not used to this—to him, to the way he claims you like it’s a fact, like the world has to bend to it. But you love it, the way he makes you feel wanted, ruined, his.

He takes you to a small-town boutique first, the kind with lace curtains and a bell that jingles when you walk in. The saleswoman glances at Rafe’s broad shoulders, his dog tags, his easy swagger, and then at you, trailing behind, your sandals soft on the hardwood. He doesn’t let you browse long. He’s picking out dresses—silky, short, nothing like the modest sundresses your dad approves of—holding them up to you like he’s picturing you in them, his eyes dark and hungry.

“Try this one,” he says, handing you a red dress, low-cut and tight, the kind you’d never dare wear on base. You hesitate, but his hand brushes your lower back, guiding you to the dressing room, and you can’t say no, not when he’s looking at you like that.

When you step out, the dress clinging to your curves, your thighs still marked from last night, he lets out a low whistle, his eyes raking over you. “Fuck, sunshine,” he murmurs, stepping close, his hands sliding to your hips. “You’re gonna kill me in that.”

The saleswoman coughs, polite but pointed, and you blush, but Rafe just smirks, pulling out a wad of cash. “We’re taking it,” he says, not even looking at her. “And those.” He points to a pile of dresses, skirts, and tops he’s already picked out, not caring about the price, not caring about anything but you.

You leave with bags full of clothes you’d never have bought yourself, your heart racing, because he’s spoiling you, dressing you up like you’re his doll, his prize. It’s indulgent, possessive, and you feel ruined in the best way, like every piece of you belongs to him now.

Dinner’s next, at a diner with checkered floors and neon signs, the kind of place that smells like burgers and nostalgia. He slides into a booth, pulling you onto his lap instead of letting you sit across from him, his arm around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. The waitress raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything, just takes your order—milkshakes and fries, his hand never leaving your thigh.

“Strawberry,” you say when she asks, and Rafe chuckles, his lips brushing your ear.

“Good choice, baby,” he says, voice low, and you shiver, because it’s not just about the milkshake. He’s showing you off, his hand possessive on your leg, his body claiming you in front of everyone—the waitress, the other diners, the old couple in the corner who keep glancing over, whispering.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh, creeping higher under the table. “Everyone knowing you’re mine.”

You nod, your breath hitching, because you do, even if it makes your cheeks burn, even if you hear the whispers—“That’s her, the Captain’s kid,” “Cameron’s got her wrapped around his finger.”You sip your milkshake when it arrives, the cold sweet on your tongue, and Rafe watches, his eyes soft but smug, like he’s proud of you, proud of this.

After dinner, he takes you strawberry picking in a field just outside town, the sun low, painting everything gold. You’re laughing, your new dress swaying as you bend to pick berries, your fingers stained red. Rafe’s behind you, his hands on your hips, pulling you against him when no one’s looking, his lips brushing your neck. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, voice low and reverent, like he’s worshipping you in the middle of the field. “My girl.”

You’re dizzy, love-struck, your heart so full it hurts. You feed him a strawberry, your fingers brushing his lips, and he bites it slow, deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. It’s romantic, softer than you expected, and you think maybe this is it—maybe he’s more than the rough, possessive soldier who marks you up in bunks and sheds.

But then you’re back in his truck, parked at a drive-thru for late-night coffee, and he’s pulling you onto his lap, your dress riding up, his hands rough and impatient. The windows are cracked, the neon glow of the drive-thru sign casting shadows across his face, and you’re trembling, because you know what’s coming.

“Spread your legs, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, filthy, his hand already sliding under your dress, pushing your panties aside. “Gonna make you feel good.”

“Rafe,” you whisper, your voice shaking, your hands gripping his shoulders. “Someone might see.”

“Let ‘em,” he says, smug and unyielding, his fingers slipping inside you, slow and deliberate, making you gasp. “Let ‘em see how you’re mine, sunshine. Let ‘em know what Daddy does to you.”

You whimper, your head falling against his shoulder, because that word—Daddy,

it does something to you, makes you melt, makes you his. His fingers move, curling, pumping, and you’re wet, so wet, the sound obscene in the quiet of the truck. The drive-thru worker’s voice crackles through the speaker, asking for your order, and Rafe leans forward, one hand still working you, the other reaching for the mic.

“Two coffees, black,” he says, calm as anything, while his fingers fuck you, slow and deep, his thumb circling your clit. You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, but it’s hard, so hard, with his hand between your legs, his breath hot on your neck.

“Rafe,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper, your nails digging into his arm. “They’ll hear—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, his voice dripping with that possessive, indulgent edge. “Be a good girl for Daddy. Keep it quiet.”

You try, you do, but it’s overwhelming, the way he’s touching you, the way he’s claiming you in public, with the drive-thru worker just feet away, the line of cars behind you. You’re shaking, your body tensing, and he knows, because he’s smirking, his fingers moving faster, pushing you closer.

“Come for Daddy,” he says, voice low and commanding, his free hand gripping your thigh, holding you in place. “Right here, baby. Show me you’re mine.”

You do, because you can’t help it, because he owns you, body and soul. Your orgasm hits hard, silent but shattering, your teeth sinking into your lip to keep from crying out, your body trembling in his lap. He groans, soft and smug, his fingers slowing but not stopping, drawing it out until you’re limp against him, your breath ragged.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your temple, his hand slipping out, slick with you. He licks his fingers, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours, and you blush, mortified but aching for him, because he’s so filthy, so perfect.

He pays for the coffee, casual as anything, and drives off, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, like nothing happened. You’re still shaking, your dress crumpled, your panties damp, but he’s calm, love-struck, his thumb brushing your skin like you’re precious.

“You’re so good for me, sunshine,” he says, voice soft now, almost tender. “So fucking perfect.”

You don’t answer, just lean against him, your head on his shoulder, your heart full. You’re spoiled, ruined, his—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

That night, you don’t go back to your room. You stay with him, curled in his bunk, his arms around you, his tags cool against your skin. You don’t write in your notebook, because there’s nothing left to say. You’re his, completely, irrevocably, and the world—your dad, the base, the whispers—can’t touch that.

[cayleeuhithinknott]

✿ — pete davidson . . . love drunk chris

in which . . . a late night baking session with chris turns into giggles, kisses, and quiet confessions about how much you mean to each other.

warnings . . . tooth rotting fluff , emotional intimacy , kissing , best friends turned lovers , soulmates 😊

𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑹 𝙒𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙈𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙉 𝙁𝙄𝘾 #13

it’s 1:04 am when chris finally gives in.

“okay, fine,” he groans dramatically, tossing his phone aside like he didn’t just spend the last ten minutes googling easy cookie recipes. “we’re making cookies. but if they turn out bad, i’m blaming you.”

you grin from the kitchen doorway, wearing one of his old t-shirts that hangs halfway down your thighs, plus sleep shorts and fuzzy socks that slide on the tile when you pad over. “they won’t,” you say, confident like always. “trust me.”

he squints at you, already rummaging through cabinets for whatever random ingredients he can scavenge. half a bag of chocolate chips, sugar that’s been shoved in the back for god knows how long, flour that’s…mostly not expired. close enough.

“this is like russian roulette,” he snorts.

“what’s life without a little risk?”

he glances back at you, catching the smile on your face, and for a second he just…pauses. takes you in. messy hair, sleepy eyes, no makeup, wearing his clothes. the late night lamp light making you look kinda glowy. like a scene from one of those indie movies he’d never admit to liking.

he shakes himself out of it. “alright, vibes over precision. let’s see how bad this gets.”

it gets messy quick.

within minutes, there’s flour on the counter, on the floor, dusted across your cheeks and caught in the hem of your shirt. you flick a little at him just to be annoying and he gasps like you’ve committed a crime.

“you’re done for,” he warns, eyes narrowing in mock offense.

“bring it.”

it ends with him smearing flour across your forehead with the side of his hand, laughing when you gasp. you lunge for him but he’s faster, catching your wrist, spinning you around until your back hits his chest.

“truce!” you giggle, breathless from laughing so hard.

“hmm…i don’t trust you,” he teases, but he’s already letting go, ruffling your hair instead.

you swat at him playfully and go back to stirring the dough, tongue poking out in concentration. but before you can add the chocolate chips, his arms loop around your waist from behind.

“chris—”

“just helping,” he says, voice low near your ear. you can feel the smile in his words.

he guides your hands over the spoon like you’ve never stirred before, all under the excuse of “making sure it’s mixed right,” but really? he just wants to be close. you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, can feel the way his fingers linger longer than necessary on your skin.

“you’re so annoying,” you laugh softly.

“yep. and you love it.”

you almost drop the spoon entirely when he dips down to press a kiss behind your ear, soft and warm and unexpected.

“chris!” you squeal, squirming but not pulling away at the tickly feeling.

“what?” he grins like he’s innocent. “you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

he keeps you there for a second, swaying you side to side like you’re dancing to music that isn’t playing.

“this was a good idea,” he says after a beat, quieter now.

you smile to yourself, cheeks flushed from the heat of the kitchen and him.

“yeah,” you whisper, leaning back into him a little. “it kinda was.”

by the time the tray’s in the oven, the kitchen’s a wreck. there’s flour on the floor, chocolate chips scattered across the counter, and a sticky glob of dough clinging to the side of the sink. you should probably feel bad about it.

but with chris standing this close, smiling like that, you couldn’t care less.

you hop up onto the counter, swinging your legs like a kid, tugging the sleeves of his tshirt down over your hands. chris taps at his phone, setting a timer, then tosses it onto the counter without looking.

he leans back against the opposite wall at first—arms crossed, grinning lazily at you like he’s debating something.

then he pushes off the wall and walks over.

you don’t even pretend not to notice the way your heart skips when he stops between your knees.

he rests his palms on your thighs, warm and heavy, thumbs sweeping slow back-and-forth like muscle memory. like his hands just belong there.

“knew you’d end up with me,” he says, like it’s a joke, but his voice is softer than usual.

you roll your eyes. “yeah? psychic now?”

“more like…” he shrugs, eyes dropping to your lips for a beat too long. “just know how you are.”

the air shifts.

he leans in and kisses you. slow, warm, and lingering way too long for it to just be playful. your hands lift instinctively, curling in the front of his t-shirt like they always do, bunching the fabric up between your fingers.

he deepens it just slightly.

nothing desperate. no rush. just soft, sleepy lips against yours, coaxing little sighs out of you every time he tilts his head and drags it out.

his hands slip a little higher, palms smoothing up your sides over the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing.

you gasp softly against his mouth when he shifts even closer, slotting himself tighter between your legs, and the sound makes him smile—just a little, like he loves knowing what you sound like when you’re caught off guard.

“you’re ridiculous,” you whisper when you pull back for air.

“you like it,” he murmurs, eyes still half-lidded, pupils blown wide in the low kitchen light.

his thumbs trace lazy circles at the hem of your shorts, dipping just barely under the fabric, teasing but not moving higher.

he kisses you again, slower this time.

then he pulls back just enough to push your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ears like you’re something delicate. his fingers trail along your jaw, then your cheek, just holding you there, like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

“don’t know what i’d do without you,” he says it quieter this time. more real.

your breath catches.

“stop,” you mumble instantly, ducking your head, hiding in the crook of his neck like a reflex.

he just laughs, all soft and knowing, resting his chin on your shoulder. “what? it’s true.”

you shake your head. “you’re such a sap.”

he grins into your skin, presses a kiss there just below your ear, and it sends a little shiver down your spine.

you pull back, cheeks warm, eyes dancing with something you won’t name.

“okay…when did you even start liking me then?” you tease, poking at his chest, trying to play it off casual even though your heart’s going a hundred miles an hour.

“first day i met you,” he says immediately. no hesitation. like it’s the easiest answer in the world.

you blink.

your mouth opens, then closes.

and for a second, you’re speechless.

he smiles at your stunned expression, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip like he’s proud of himself for rendering you quiet.

“don’t look so shocked,” he teases.

you hide your face again, burying it in his t-shirt this time, laughing softly and trying not to let him see the way your hands are shaking just slightly against his chest.

he just holds you tighter.

the oven timer keeps ticking down, but neither of you move.

chris noses at your temple, trailing soft kisses up and down the side of your head like he can’t get enough.

“you’re it for me, y’know?” he whispers at one point.

you freeze.

but before you can overthink it, he kisses you again—quick and distracting, making you giggle into his mouth until you both forget how serious the air just got.

when the timer finally goes off, neither of you are in any rush to get the cookies. you stay there on the kitchen counter, tangled up in each other’s arms, the warm glow from the oven light casting soft shadows across your skin.

chris nuzzles your neck, breath warm and easy, and you rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your ear. the world shrinks down to just the two of you—the quiet hum of the city outside, the faint scent of vanilla and chocolate hanging in the air, and the steady warmth of his arms wrapped around your waist.

“you know,” he murmurs, voice low and gentle, “i could stay like this forever.”

you smile against his skin, fingers tracing lazy circles on his back. “me too.”

after a while, you finally peel apart just enough to reach for the cookies, but instead of taking one, chris grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer again. “nah, let’s save ‘em for later,” he says with a playful grin. “i’m not letting you go just yet.”

you roll your eyes but don’t protest. instead, you loop your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape.

he leans down, brushing a kiss along your jawline, his lips lingering there like a silent promise. “you’re my favorite person, you know that?” he whispers.

you laugh softly, your breath warm against his skin. “yeah? well, you’re mine.”

he pulls you flush against him, hips pressing into yours as you settle into the comfortable weight of each other. the world feels still, suspended in this perfect moment.

eventually, chris scoops you up, cradling you bridal style like you’re the most precious thing in the world. “bedtime,” he says, voice thick with affection.

you giggle, wrapping your arms tighter around his neck. “i’m not complaining.”

he carries you to the bedroom, soft carpet muffling your footsteps. when he sets you down on the bed, he doesn’t let go—his hands rest on your waist, steady and sure.

you curl up beside him, limbs entwined, your head resting on his chest as his fingers brush gently through your hair.

“goodnight, baby,” he whispers, lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder.

you close your eyes, heart full and mind quiet—for now.

and as you drift toward sleep, you know without a doubt: you were his favorite person. his soulmate.

and you’ve always felt the same.

author’s note . . . #goals

🏷️ : @sturniolo04 @admeliora94 @alexturnersgooch @snuffbut @strnilolover @frattboychris @marrykisskilled @mqttittude @purpledragon222 @aubsloveschris @paisleyy22 @emely9274 @oliviasthatgirl @conspiracy-ash @matthewsroses @pasteldreams @matts-wife @courta13 @sugarraez @adorechris @elenayzxsturn @mattybsgroupie @oopsiedaisydeer @bluestriips @grace-sturnz @sturnboos @owenstar @ribbonlovergirl @tweetybaird @tezzzzzzzz @vanteguccir @bernardmatthews @weirdothatwrites @thighs4evan @lm-a-mirrorball @iluvchr1s @sturnslux3 @cutseylady @iconiccolo @beardedbernard @kenah-sturniolo @edwardscoldhands

© cayleeuhithinknott

[dismalflo]

Remus request? Oh lordy lord… what about Rem and reader “syncing up” so to speak? Like, major fluff vibes of the two with heat packs on and downing ibuprofen (though, personally, dexketoprofen is my own drug of choice for cramps) like candy (within reason, ofc, don’t try this at home, kids). Can feature other marauders as romantic/platonic relationships too, if the Muse wishes it to be so

-👾

Oh lordy lord is right, i really enjoyed writing this one haha

Remus Lupin x reader where they've 'synched up' ✩ 743 words

cw: fluff, reader menstruates

"Can we have more ibuprofen yet?" you mumble, an arm draped across your eyes. You're sprawled on the sofa, one leg slung over the backrest, losing a slow-motion battle with your headache.

Normally, when it comes to medication, "we" is code between you and Remus – an easy shorthand for solidarity, for I’ve got you, we’re in this together. Today, though, you mean it literally. The full moon is a few days off, and your period has come crashing in. Between the two of you, pain is usually a one-person ordeal. One person suffers, the other fusses. Shared suffering? Not something you're good at. It’s left you both slumped in quiet defeat and pressed together on the couch.

"Not for another hour," he grumbles.

You groan into your own arm, the heat pack tucked against your abdomen threatening to slide off entirely. With great effort, you shift just enough to wedge it back in place and give Remus a squint of solidarity. He’s curled beside you, one arm cradling his ribs and the other dangling limp off the edge of the sofa. His heat pack's tucked under his shirt, making an odd lump near his hip.

"We’re gonna die," you declare flatly.

"Probably." he agrees, eyes closed.

A beat passes.

"You’ll go first, though," he adds without moving, "You took the last biscuit."

You groan louder this time and reach out with the back of your hand to swat his leg. It lands with a damp little thud, more suggestion than violence. He doesn’t even flinch. Just sighs, then catches your hand mid-air and laces his fingers through yours, like that’s what you meant to do all along.

 He’s too sore for a proper cuddle, and you’re not sure you’d want one anyway, so this is lovely. A soft closeness that says, I know. Me too.

When Remus shifts, starting to swing his legs off the sofa, your grip tightens in alarm. He’s barely got one leg off the sofa before you find your voice, sharper than you meant it.

“What are you doing?” The words come out more panicked than intended, and you cringe internally at the volume.

“Starting dinner.”

“No, you’re not.”

He sighs long and tired, “You need to eat something proper, dovey.”

You roll your eyes, but your voice cracks a little. “And you need to sit down. You’re just making yourself worse.”

Remus pauses mid-rise, caught in the act of trying to look sturdier than he is. It’s not very convincing – his shoulder twitches like it’s considering seizing up again, and the crease between his brows deepens. You know that look. He’s running through some mental checklist, weighing your pain against his own, deciding whose wellbeing is the bigger priority.

“I’ll be quick,” he says, gentle and deliberate, like he’s trying not to spook you. “Toast. Eggs, maybe. You’ll feel better with something warm in you.”

You narrow your eyes. “And you’ll feel better not collapsing in the kitchen.”

He gives you a dry look. “I’ve done worse for less.”

“That’s not comforting.”

Your hand’s still in his, and when you give it a pointed squeeze, he winces slightly and finally, blessedly, he sinks back down with a dramatic groan that almost drowns out the couch’s own complaints beneath the weight of your mutual misery.

“I’m going to make you soup tomorrow,” he mutters, like it’s a promise and a threat all at once.

“Sure you are.”

“You’ll see.”

“I’ll believe it when there’s a bowl in my hand and my boyfriend doesn’t wince when he moves.”

He scoffs, but the corner of his mouth tips up. The heat pack’s started to drift again, and you grunt, trying to adjust without moving too much. Remus notices, nudging it back into place with careful precision.

“You’re so bad at this,” you murmur, amused.

“At what?”

“Letting someone take care of you.”

Remus snorts, a soft exhale through his nose. “Pot, kettle.”

You laugh, a short burst of delighted sound, and instantly regret it. Pain cracks through your temple like lightning, and you press the heel of your hand to your forehead with a strangled noise. Your body is made of raw nerve endings and haywire hormones. Fantastic.

Remus lifts his head just enough to glance at you, his gaze heavy-lidded and concerned, before letting it fall back down to the sofa cushion.

“Forty-five minutes,” he says quietly.

“’Til what?” you croak. “Death?”

“Ibuprofen.”

masterlist <3

[justslightlymental]

"All of them Goddamn" Saja Boys x Reader Part 2

ill be so honest guys I feel like I butchered the start but oh well! I don't know for sure how long in the actual movie it took for them to defeat them yada yada. But in this AU i'll just say it took like a few months. Anyway, this doesn't have smut in it, IM SORRY BRO OKAY. im lowkey thinking of making a part 3 cuz this shit ended weird ok. ALSO reader is pregnant, if u dont like that LEAVE. its not my fault bro had unsafe smeggs in part 1

also yes im working on my other requests about them, those will be full on smut trust :33333 -

IT had been weeks since our last encounter. And oh boy… I’ve had these terrible headaches, these terrible stomach aches. The many times I’ve had to dip out of rehearsals just to empty my stomach. My energy levels have gone down the drain. I thought about reasons for a very long time, I was perfectly fine before the “Saja Boys” fiasco at the bathhouse, and a week or so after I was fine. But the more I thought about that night the more I realised how irresponsible and lust driven all of us were. Literally all of them splattered my insides white and NONE of us had any kind of protection, oh my fucking god. “What if I'm pregnant. What if im carrying the child of a fucking demon.” I spoke to myself quietly, sitting in my bed, stressing the fuck out. It all made sense, and I honestly wish it didn’t. How am I supposed to bring this up to THEM? How am I supposed to explain my predicament to my bandmates?? To our manager?? I can’t just fucking go up to them like ‘Oh yeah.. By the way, I'M pregnant and the father must be one of the Saja boys. Hell no. We had enough trouble overall with losing our fans day by day to them, and figuring out a song to completely wipe the demons out and strengthen the Honmoon up for good. Wait… If we defeat the saja boys and actually succeed, what about this possible child I might be carrying?? I mean maybe I’m not pregnant- But with everything happening there is a 98% chance I am. If we kill them- my child- or well their child too will forever be fatherless OH GOD what if the baby dies too?? I have to take a test, like badly. “Hey, I'm going out!” I said to the girls after emerging from my room, dressed very casually. “Alright, be safe okay?” Rumi said back, before turning back to her movie.

“Oh! Can you bring back chicken noodles?? I’ve been craving them!” Zoey yelled out from the kitchen. “Will do, bye bye!” “Byeeee!” Mira said, not looking away from her book.

The evening breeze was chilly, the hoodie I wore could only do so much. Feeling the cold sweeping through the tiniest openings. I walked faster, wanting to get to the sweet warmth of the pharmacy, which shouldn’t be too far now. As I finally reached the store, immediately feeling relieved and speed walking to the intimacy section, looking through all the different tests. I kept my hood up, trying to stay as hidden as possible not wanting any scandals to happen.

”Would you like some help?” A kind pharmacist said from next to me, a smile on her face. ”Uhmm… Well, anything that's trustworthy..?” I answered awkwardly.

We had a lovely conversation, she was really easy to talk to. The average auntie, well at least she looked the age… Thankfully she did not recognize me, internally sighing in relief. As I finished shopping and walked out. I was immediately met with the cold and once again began my walk back home.

Though as I was walking it felt like I was being watched, the hairs on the back of my neck rising like I was spiderman. I tried to walk faster, taking different routes but in the end a sudden smoke appeared out of nowhere, scaring the ever living shit out of me. Currently I was in an alley too so his shit truly was not ideal.

”Well well well, look who it is.” A deep voice called out and I immediately recognized it.

”Jinu??!” I said shocked, clutching the bag into my chest.

”And don’t forget about us!” Another voice said and four more men appeared right next to Jinu.

Oh for fucks sake.

”I'm not in the mood.” I scoffed. 

Okay well between you and me I was very much in the mood but I also did not want them knowing about my… predicament.

”C'mon doll we all know that’s a lie.” Abby said, walking closer to me, throwing his arm around my shoulders.

”No really, please.. Just let me go.” I sighed, my emotions in overdrive. “What’s the matter?” Mystery asked, seemingly the only one with the social skills to actually pick up on my mood. “It’s nothing, just a bad day.” I quickly said, wanting to get out of this situation before my ‘possible’ secret gets revealed. “Why do you smell so good right now?” Romance spoke up, suddenly appearing right beside me, literally inhaling my scent. “Now that you mention I smell it too.” Baby said, eyeing me up and down. Oh shit, I literally forgot they are demons. Does this basically confirm my suspicions and fears? Can they smell the change in my hormones or some shit? That's lowkey creepy, but whatever. “Just let me go.” I said once again, walking past them. Obviously they wouldn’t let me go that easily, hearing their footsteps behind me. I was seriously fed up. “You’re hiding something aren’t you? Maybe in that bag of yours?” Jinu caught up with me, tilting his head in a mocking way. “Did you pick up some toys to use incase we all met up again?” Abby joked, others giggling with him.

I chose to ignore them, as much as I honestly wanted to get down on the floor and get absolutely ravished by all of them. Getting home and doing this test and then crying my eyes out was much more favorable.  Though I don’t think they took me ignoring them very well, the next thing I knew they had stopped in their tracks, making me turn around, their faces rid of any humor or smiles. “Fine if you’re going to act like a brat. Don’t bother crawling back to us begging for more.” Jinu scoffed, all of them agreeing with him. “The entitlement is crazy!! See if i fucking care!” I yelled out, baffled at how these men… No these DEMONS were acting. No other words were exchanged as I turned on my heel and practically ran off, holding in the tears. This is how everything was supposed to go. Obviously they wouldn’t hold any emotional attachment to me, what was I expecting? A nice dinner date in the city's most luxurious 5 star restaurant?? They are demons for fucks sake, their whole thing is to just lure people in and then eat their souls. But why did it hurt so much? It’s not like they actually took advantage of me or anything, I gave them my full consent and was reckless. And now I'm paying the price for one night of pleasure. I thought, staring at the 3 positive tests in my hand. Makeup already ruined, eyeliner mushed around my cheeks, tears still flowing down freely. My emotions were all over the place, It wasn’t on my plans to become a young mother to a fucking half demon baby. Yet despite all of that I couldn’t help but already feel attached. This child was innocent, who am I to blame it for being conceived by my own foolish desires and actions. I had decided, no matter how foolish or bad, I was keeping this baby and that’s final. The next few weeks were awful, between the writing, composing of songs and rehearsals not to mention rivaling against Saja boys. AND struggling with the amazing side effects of pregnancy, thankfully I wasn’t showing yet, so I could still use our performance outfits no matter how flashy or tight they were. Things had been going south though. The Honmoon was weakening due to our lack of progress, demons appearing left and right. Fans leaving and going for Saja boys. They were practically everywhere, we were being overthrown quickly.

“Alright girls! I know everythings all ‘saja’ ‘saja’. But we are going to turn it into ‘Huntrix!’ ‘Huntrix!’ alright?” Bobby said with a smile placing a bunch of posters in front of us at our table. “There’s a bunch of fans outside who literally SLEPT on the sidewalk just to see you. “Happy fans… Happy Honmoon!” We all looked at each other and clicked our pens together, sitting at our fan event table. And so the fans bursted in and so did 5 random… sleeping bag things..? “And who do I owe this to?” Rumi asked with a smile, going to pick up a poster to sign it. “To your biggest fans…” The male said, they all revealed themselves as Saja boys. Oh for FUCKS sake. All of the attendees went crazy yelling out their band name. “Oh Saja boys It’s an honor! Table please!” Bobby said, as they brought a table down for the boys. “Joint meeting??” Half of the people lined up for us moved to the boys table. We looked at each other baffled, Rumi staying silent for a moment before standing up and announcing the boys would be seated with us and the people immediately lined back up. “WHAT?!” All of us whisper yelled.

“We need all the fans we can get…” Rumi said, sitting back down in her seat. I was now forced to sit between Baby and Jinu. Neither of them didn’t seem to pay attention to me, but I could feel glances my way ever so often. Forced to listen to them shamelessly flirting with my bandmates, forced to sit in absolute misery and worst of all.. Forced to suffer my raging hormones, oh god they smelled so good. The fan event started off good, signing posters and albums, having short chats with the fans, doing cute stuff yada yada. I was doing a pretty good job with ignoring the boys, no matter how much I wanted to oogle at them. Jinu made it very clear they don’t want anything to do with me anymore. “Hello! I hope you’re doing alright!” I smiled sweetly at the next fan in front of me, a guy my age I assumed. “Oh my god!! I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you!” He beamed with happiness, taking my hands in his. Oookayy.. could’ve asked for permission first but i’ll let it slide… Happy fans.. Happy Honmoon I reminded myself. “I can’t believe I'm meeting you! Thank you for supporting us!” I smiled back, a little forced. “I’ve been a fan since the first day, you’re my favorite! I love you so much!” He continued, moving closer to me. “I appreciate that!” I cringed internally at how close he was getting. “Would you like me to sign anything?” The fanboy gasped letting go of my hands to dig into his bag, probably for an album. I couldn’t help but notice from the corner of my eye how Jinu had turned his head towards us both, watching the interaction clearly not amused. It was then when I felt a hand land on my thigh, inching ever so closer to my core. My eyes widened for a moment before I calmed myself down, acting normal for the fan. “Please sign my album!” He asked, handing it to me and so I did.

“You’re so amazing!!! Pleaseee marry me!” The guy said, lowkey freaking me out now. This also caught the attention of my bandmates but also all of the Saja Boys. And if looks could kill this fellow would be buried deep within the earth's core. I forced an awkward smile, trying not to yell at this guy, not wanting to scare any of the other fans who might I add also started watching the interaction. “Hahaha- Thank you- umm I’m sorry but-” Before I could continue a hand slammed in front of me, making me flinch. “I think it’s time you move on.” It was Jinu and he was pissed, in fact they all were pissed I could feel the atmosphere changing. Everyone was dead quiet, the guy looked like he would piss his pants at any moment, before quickly snatching the poster and fleeing the whole event. It was pretty fucking awkward after that but it wasn’t long until things seemed to return to normal. “Thank you…” I muttered to Jinu, not sparing a glance. He didn’t reply but he didn’t need to, another squeeze to my thigh was all I needed. Maybe everything was not lost between us after all, maybe he did care, maybe they all did. They just didn’t know how to express themselves… I don’t know, maybe I’m just delusional holding onto the smallest thread of hope. One thing is for sure though, I need to let them know.  After the fan event fiasco I was sitting in my dressing room, just staring into the mirror. The frown on my face was evident as a hand rested on my stomach. The thoughts in my head racing, I was so conflicted. Everytime I saw one of the guys I felt weak in my legs, my heart thumped against my chest, and I just felt… weird. Was I really falling in love?

And how would that end huh…

I was suddenly pulled away by my thoughts due to my door opening, in walked all of them. Without an invitation of course!! We just stared at each other without saying a word, the air heavy around us. I don’t know for how long we just stood there in silence, but it felt like our eyes were having the conversation for us entirely.

“Why did you come here.” I asked bluntly.

“To check up on you, are we not allowed to care?” Jinu asked with a frown, hands folded in front of his chest. I let out an amused scoff, looking away from them, gathering my words. “That’s rich coming from you. From all of you.” I said a hint of venom in my tone. “From what I gathered last time we happened to bump into each other you all were only after ONE thing. Sex. It’s very funny suddenly seeing you ‘care’, or being interested in how I'm doing. Hey it’s okay though! It was a really nice one night stand, I can't believe I expected more.” It felt relieving to finally get my feelings out, really it did. “What? Got nothing to say? Because I was right?” I asked, staring at their faces, all of them seemed to avoid eye contact, nervous almost. “It’s.. not that… I just- We’ll we just… The truth is-” Jinu tried but couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. “We all like you!” Baby Saja yelled out. “We didn’t know how to tell you, or how to find you..” Romance continued, scratching the back of his head. “I guess the moment we saw you again.. Asking for that was like.. a way to try and forget..” Abby said, his face red. “We thought you would never like us back.. Since you know… we are demons.” Mystery quietly said Honestly their confession shocked me, you mean there’s actually hope?? They actually have feelings?? No fucking way. It almost brought me to tears, fucking hormones. “I- I’m shocked… Truth is after our ‘thing’ I couldn’t stop thinking about you all…” I mumbled, all of their heads snapped towards me. “It was torture trying to sleep that night…” I giggled quietly, remembering. “You drive us crazy… And today seeing that boy touch you… It made us mad, it's weird.. It feels like an instinct, to protect you from everything and anything…” Jinu said, others agreeing. “I feel like I need to be close to you… at all times, something is pulling me in.” Baby said, walking closer to me. All of them followed, I backed towards the counter where all my makeup was laid. I stared up at them, all of a sudden remembering the last time and immediately felt like my panties had just been dipped into water.  “I want to be close to you all too…” I said, eyes never leaving theirs. Suddenly nothing else mattered, all I wanted was to have a taste of them again, to feel them touch me, mark me, claim me. Jinu’s hands landed on my shoulders, he leaned in slowly, our lips connecting in a sweet kiss. It wasn’t messy like before, but instead a passionate one. As we separated he looked me deep in the eyes, his hand caressing my cheek. “I’m sorry about that day.” He said. “It’s okay…” None of us shared another word, but that was okay. Though I still felt terrible, as they all got close to me. I was keeping this secret from them, but I was afraid, so afraid. What would they think? What would everyone think? I didn’t want this moment to end in more unnecessary fighting and drama, I just wanted everyone to be happy. If it meant keeping and going through this by myself I would do it. 

Romance pressed his lips against my neck, his teeth just slightly gracing my skin. Baby on my other side, his hand caressing my arm, leaning against me, enjoying the warmth of my skin. Abby took Jinu’s place in front of me, kissing me deeply, pressing himself up against me. Softly moaning into his kiss, playfully fighting his tongue with my own. Mystery had taken Romance's side and was now running his fingers through my hair, kissing my cheek and neck. After a little bit more making out with them and touching each other up we separated, even if we didn’t want to. But time was not on our side, soon the girls would come looking for me and we would be busted big time. “We’ll see each other more right?” I asked hopefully, the fact is I felt myself not wanting to leave their side for even a moment. “Yes, definitely. It hurts us to be away from you darling.” Jinu said. “Let us mark you… be ours forever..” Abby asked, almost desperate. “Please, I need everyone to know you are mine and theirs.” Mystery said, his voice whiny. The rest agreed, and how could I say no to them? Even if my mind tried telling me no. For deep down in my heart I was afraid of all these feelings, what happens if we truly seal the Honmoon up for good? My heart would be broken beyond repair. “Yes.” In a flash their human forms disappeared, replaced by their demon counterparts. I used to loathe them, to hate them but now I feel like I preferred seeing their true selves. I felt even more connected to them. They placed their hands on my chest one by one, each time a mark flashed over my chest, a purple hue traveling along my veins down my arms before disappearing. Each time I felt a surge of emotions, feelings like a piece of their lost souls merged with mine. I'm sure they felt more alive, I could see this light in their eyes I had never seen before. “You are ours now and we.. are yours.” - YEA ILL MAKE A PART 3 MAYBE YEAH (i will)

[acewithapaintbrush]

I saw the initial post by @wheretimegoestodie and @aroace-get-out-of-my-face addition about an Ella Enchanted AU with Stan and how easy it would be for Ford to accidentally activate the curse and it got me thinking, yeah but what if he does it intentionally cause he thinks he's helping Stanley? Cause, you know? The road to hell is paved with good intentions and all that.

I started writing and it kinda spiraled out of control so more under the cut. Trigger warnings for gross food stuff and non-descriptive vomiting.

Stanley rolls his eyes as Ford sighs obnoxiously loudly. It’s the kind of sigh parents use when they want their children to notice that they have done something wrong without having to spell it out for them. Too bad Stan is not an unruly child. He’s an unruly adult and as such he ignores his brother who is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a scowl on his face.

Ever since Ford found out about Stan’s little predicament he’s been overly careful with his words. Stan is thankful, really. It has made this house safer than any other place he’s ever been where people just tell you to do things without thought, mostly even without bad intentions. But it means that sometimes there are moments when they are in the same room but it’s just this overwhelming silence between them that presses down on Stan like an anvil to his chest. He’s never been bothered by silence before, not since his enchantment certainly, but it’s different with Ford. Everything is always different with Ford. He forgot about that.

Sometimes it comforts him, sometimes it makes his skin crawl.

Ford sighs again and Stan tenses. Usually ignoring his brother long enough does the trick and the guy will either tell him what bothers him about Stan this time or he’ll give up. A second, even deeper sigh is new.

“You have skipped breakfast again this morning,” Ford states in that way that is supposed to be a question.

“I had a banana,” Stan lies because he isn’t actually sure it’s the truth. The more he thinks about it, the more he thinks it might have been yesterday. It’s hard to keep track sometimes and there are more important things to worry about right now. Like making sure his brother eats and sleeps with that demon in his head, cleaning up the house to make that doom and gloom disappear. A little bit of dusting and letting some fresh air in has already done wonders to the place in the three weeks Stan has been here.

He glances at his brother in the doorway and nods to himself. Ford looks better. He is still horrifyingly sleep deprived, too afraid his possessed body will do something he’ll regret if he allows himself to fall into a deep sleep circle, but he’s less pale and doesn’t look like he’ll drop dead any second now. His old biker gang used to make fun of Stan’s mother hen tendencies but if they help make sure his brother doesn’t end up in an asylum it’s worth it.

Ford watches him move another box and his expression is a cross between pain and exasperation. Stan knows that his stubbornness is not making this easy for his brother but he can’t help it. He needs to do something, to keep busy. Make his stay here worth Ford’s while. Sometimes he thinks this desperate need to make himself useful, to feel needed, is just another side effect of the curse but then he thinks of all the people that mocked him for being so needy, so hungry for acknowledgment and affection, to be noticed and seen.

Maybe the curse was inevitable for someone like Stan.

“You need to-” Ford starts and when he sees Stan tense he quickly switches track. “I mean, a balanced diet is important, Stanley.”

Stan snorts. “Look who’s talking.” Ford starts to glare with real annoyance. Good. He’s been too nice the last few weeks. It has thrown Stan off, made him wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. His brother rubs a hand over his face and it must have been another all nighter. He looks especially rough, in a way he hasn’t for a while now. For a moment Stan feels guilty but he needs to get this room cleaned up and so he swallows any apology he could make and instead waves his brother away. “Go do your portal science stuff. I’ll eat something later.”

“We both know that's a lie!” Ford hisses between clenched teeth. He’s fiddling with his hands and alarm bells go off in Stan’s head. “And I’ll do what I want in my own home!”

“Easy, poindexter.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Stan feels the compulsion take hold but it’s okay. It’s an easy enough command to follow. Ford hasn’t even noticed and Stan won’t tell him. His brother slips up sometimes and it’s okay, at least he tries. (Okay okay okay, Stan repeats in his head multiple times, until he believes it).

“Easy Ford," he starts again but his voice is trembling. He’s on edge now, wrong footed, vulnerable. “Why is this such a big deal? I’m fine.”

“Because I’m worried about you, you dunderhead. And you are not fine. You are the farthest thing from fine. You look like you’ll fall over any second now.”

Stan rolls his eyes again because Ford being worried about him? Please. “Yeah. Sure.”

His lackadaisy response sets Ford off in a way Stan has never seen before. His brother seems to explode right before his eyes without any sound. His eyes flash, his teeth gnash together. He slams a fist against the door frame and tears at his sweater as if he wants to rip it off. Stan involuntarily takes a startled step back.

“I am!” Ford shouts and his voice sounds wrong, strangled, as if he’s trying to hold back tears even though his eyes are dry like the desert and blazing with fire. “I am, Stanley! You are working yourself ragged right in front of my eyes and I can’t watch this anymore. You need to eat!”

Stan freezes and this time Ford notices what he’s done. He can feel himself take a step towards the kitchen and Stan expects his brother to take it back like he’s done a dozen times before. His brother opens his mouth, his expression stricken and apologetic but then something else crosses his face. Fear, resignation, horror, sadness.

And then, worst of all, resolve.

“Go into the kitchen and eat. And when you are done I want you to go to bed and sleep for eight hours.” He’s averting his eyes as Stan pushes past him in the doorway. “I’m sorry Stanley.”

Stan wants to scream at him. Coward. Asshole. Traitor. He wants to punch him and beg him and curse him. He wants to do so much but all the curse allows him to do is walk towards the kitchen on wooden legs and listen to his brother sink to the floor behind him, softly cursing under his breath “fuck fuck fuck”.

His brother never curses. Stan almost wants to laugh.

Not that he’s allowed to.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Go into the kitchen and eat.

That command is easy enough to follow. Thanks to Stan the kitchen is well stocked with all kinds of food.

But that is the problem. Because his genius brother has given a very broad command.

Stan is supposed to eat and when he’s done, he’s supposed to sleep.

Not when he’s full. Not when the leftovers of breakfast are gone. Not when he’s eaten whatever he likes. Stan is supposed to eat until he’s done. And without a clear limit that means eating everything in the kitchen.

Fuck.

Stan’s feet carry him to the bananas on the counter first. Maybe a cosmic punishment for his earlier fib. Thankfully he peels them before shoving them into his mouth one after another, barely enough time to swallow before the next one follows. There are seven bananas and he eats them all and he already feels full and slightly nauseous. No one is supposed to eat so many bananas in one go.

“I’m done,” he thinks fretfully but the curse doesn’t care. There is still food in the kitchen. It makes his hand reach for the cereal standing next to the empty fruit bowl and tip the damned box up to pour the contents into his mouth. It’s the boring kind, fibers and nuts and raisins. He chokes on the dry food a little. His brother didn’t tell him to eat and drink, just eat, so he has to swallow it as it is without milk which would have made this a bit more bearable.

Once the box is empty (a lot of it fell to the floor but thankfully the curse doesn’t make him lap it up like a dog) his body turns to the sink and his heart skips a beat. There is a big chunk of minced meat defrosting in there. He had planned to make burgers later that day. The thought now makes him gag. He starts to reach inside the sink and he just knows that the curse won’t let him cook it first. Food is food.

With more mental strength than he thought he was capable of he focuses on the pickle jar standing ready next to the sink and makes his body reach for that one instead. As he takes off the lid and starts shoveling pickles and pickle water into his mouth he finally starts to cry because he knows it’s just a temporary relief, just a postponement of the inevitable. The raw meat is right there, waiting for him, mocking him.

A pickle gets stuck in his throat and Stan bends over, coughing it up. All the food he’s already eaten suddenly protests and combined with his terror at what’s yet to come Stan can’t help but bend over further and start to gag. With a cut off curse he vomits everything he’s just eaten back up again.

The mess spreads over the kitchen floor and Stan has a moment to think how much he doesn’t want to clean that up later when he hears footsteps rushing towards him. Ford appears in the doorway, lured by the sound of Stan throwing up. He takes in the scene, the banana peels and the empty pickle jar and cereal box and the mess on the floor and if Stan had any mental capacity to pay attention to his brother he might have been able to see the realization dawn on Ford's face in real time.

As it is, the curse is already forcing him to continue and it’s with a resigned kind of horror that he watches his own hand creep towards the sink.

“NO!” Ford shouts and when Stan still reaches for the meat he runs forward. His voice is pitched impossibly high. “Don’t eat that! I release you! Stop eating. For now, I mean. Stop eating for now. Only eat if you want to! Oh God, Stanley!”

Stan slumps to the floor. He would have facepalmed into the mess if Ford hadn’t grabbed him and pulled him backwards into his arms. The two of them sit down on their asses with so much force that it’s gonna leave a mark for sure.

Stan is still heaving, still gagging. Now that the compulsion is gone he can taste everything with so much more intensity. He’s never going to eat bananas again. Ford snakes his arms around Stan from behind and pulls him closer. It almost hurts, the way Ford is crushing him against his chest. Stan can feel his brother’s heart jackrabbit in his chest through their clothing, can feel Ford’s breath against the nape of his neck.

He wants to push him away, to fight his way free. To punch him, honestly. He tries but Ford just clings tighter with an almost animalistic whine and Stan slumps back, loose-limbed and exhausted.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Moses Stanley, I’m so sorry. I just wanted to… I was just worried. I was so scared for you to- I’m sorry. Please, Stanley, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Stanley. Please.”

Stan has no idea what Ford is pleading for. His forgiveness? As if there was ever any doubt.

“It’s alright,” he rasps through an abused throat. It’s not alright, but if he repeats it often enough maybe he’ll believe it one day. He pats his brother's hand that is fisted in his shirt, the only part he can reach. “It’s alright, Ford.”

It’s alright It’s alright It’s alright

For some reason that makes Ford sob and cling even tighter. He is shaking and a part of Stan wants to comfort him, tell him that he understands that Ford was just trying to help. But he is frozen, like an animal trapped in a snare.

“Never again,” Ford promises between sobs. “Never again, Stanley. I swear!”

“Okay.”

He’s tired. Maybe he won’t need Ford’s compulsion to sleep for eight hours.

This is actually good, he tries to tell himself. Stan was growing too complacent, too relaxed. He’s been waiting for the other to drop and there it finally is, dropped on his head like a ton of bricks. All that wrong sense of safety has made him forget the first rule of survival but he’s back on the right track.

He’s more familiar with this situation.

He knows how to handle this.

+++++++++++++++

The next morning Ford finds Stanley making enough breakfast for two and the table set for two people.

Ford goes into the bathroom and cries.

He's not hungry but he will eat.

Every last scrap.

********

Don't be too hard on Ford, he's got a demon in his head and runs on two hours of sleep, eight cups of coffee and spite

[azzishands]

Fan of a fan - Chapter eight

Paige x Azzi

WC: 8.3

Warnings: Homophobia, mature content

A/N: Azzi looks so good in her latest tiktoks, I'll never get over it😫

Masterlist

---

June 2025

The Huskies’ European tour had ended at last, and they were back home in the US. Paige was finally gonna get to be with Azzi for a longer period of time. Or, well, she was going to spend some time with the band and start writing the soundtrack to the Ice’s movie. But other than that, this summer was all about Azzi. 

The plan was for Paige to spend June in LA at Azzi’s place, and then spend July in Minnesota at Paige’s place. They had talked about if it’s too early to be practically living with each other, but then came to the conclusion that they wanted to make up for all the lost time spent in each other’s absence. 

“And if - and that’s a big if - if it feels like it was too early for it, I’ll just book a hotel,” Paige shrugged. And it really wasn’t more complicated than that. Paige always seemed to be prepared for whatever worry Azzi had. 

And now here they were, in Azzi’s apartment in the middle of June, just playing Fortnite with the whole band over. Paige adored how Azzi wanted to get to know the people Paige loved, and that’s how The Huskies ended up taking over Azzi’s apartment this week. 

“Azzi!” KK yelled “Stop do-”

“-Shut up, I know what I’m doing!” Azzi yelled back, and then proceeded to die. 

“I don’t think you do,” Sarah mumbled and held back a laugh. Azzi just shot her a look and shook her head in disapproval of the comment. 

Paige just sat back on the couch and laughed at the whole thing. Being with the four people that felt like family more than anyone else made her whole heart swell. 

Azzi was sitting on the floor in front of her TV, right next to KK. Paige, Sarah and Aubrey were taking up the couch. The band had spent the last three days there, sleeping in that very living room. Azzi loved having them over, and loved feeling like it was some sort of summer camp. It was always lively, always fun and always easy with them. It felt like a big sleepover. 

“Azzi, do you sing?” Aubrey asked as Azzi stood up from the floor to get another pizza slice from her kitchen counter. 

“No-”

“-Yes she does,” Paige said simultaneously as Azzi had denied it. “All the time actually.”

“No I don’t,” Azzi frowned. 

“Yeah you do.”

“No-”

“Specifically our songs,” Paige continued, completely ignoring Azzi and turned to Aubrey. “And Iris, of course, her favorite song. And one song she can never stop singing is Just Fine by Mary J Blige. I feel like I’m gonna go insane if I hear it one more time.” 

“You said you liked that song!” Azzi said in an accusing tone, taking her seat back on the floor but still turned to the couch where Paige was sitting. 

The paparazzi’s pictures of Paige and Azzi had been wiped from the internet as much as their PR teams were able to. It had been viral for at least two weeks, before another Kardashian had done something with someone, and thankfully, the noise about the two simmered down. But their hardcore fans still had their eyes on them attentively, waiting for another mistake.

Paige had talked to Azzi about being a bit more lowkey onwards, which Azzi had agreed to. They didn’t interact on social media, they didn’t leave the apartment unless they had made sure no one was around, they always drove cars with tinted glasses, and so on. 

Azzi understood that it was important for Paige to be able to control whatever she could. But a small part of her quietly wondered how long they were gonna be lowkey. For how long did Paige have to stressfully check out the windows as if they were criminals fleeing from prison every time they wanted to go out and eat dinner? She didn’t want to ask Paige, because she didn’t want to make her girlfriend’s struggles about herself, she told herself. Truth was, she didn't have the guts to want to learn the truth yet. 

The next days with the band were spent pretty much the same - playing games, talking about everything and nothing, having movie nights, listening to music. All the girls appreciated just hanging out like normal people. And when the week had gone by, Azzi felt like she knew the band a lot better than before. 

“With or without Paige, hit me up when you’re in town,” Azzi hugged KK, Aubrey and Sarah as they stood in the hallway, ready to leave. 

“We will,” Sarah smiled. 

“You won’t get rid of us that easily,” KK said.

“Thank you for having us, Azzi. We’ve had a great time,” Aubrey thanked the hostess. 

Their words made both Azzi and Paige warm with love. Azzi was happy she got along so well with Paige’s best friends and liked being around them as much as they seemed to like being around her. 

The three Huskies left the apartment, waving goodbye until the door was closed, and then there were only Paige and Azzi left. 

“Finally alone,” Paige murmured and didn’t hesitate on wrapping her arms around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in closer.

Azzi chuckled. “What, you’ve been waiting for them to leave?”

“It’s been killing me to sleep next to you this whole week without getting to touch you,” she said, her lips almost touching Azzi’s. 

“So do something about it then,” Azzi cocked her head to the side, looking at her girlfriend as if she was challenging her. 

And Paige gladly accepted the challenge by crashing her lips onto Azzi’s. She didn’t want to waste any more time. 

With her hands on Azzi’s sides, she guided them towards the kitchen and pressed her girlfriend against the kitchen counter, never taking her lips off her. She swiftly lifted Azzi up on the counter and stood between her legs. 

“Missed this,” Paige mumbled and moved her mouth down on Azzi’s jaw, to her neck, placing wet kisses on the places she knew drove Azzi crazy.

“Prove it,” Azzi exhaled with her eyes closed by Paige’s neck kisses. 

As soon as Azzi had said that, Paige roughly bit down on the part that connects the neck with the shoulder, making Azzi gasp. Paige gently kissed over where she bit and used her tongue to lick back up on her neck.

“Take this off,” she said as she removed Azzi’s shirt. “This too.” She grabbed the hem of Azzi’s pants, and Azzi obediently lifted up her butt to make it easier to remove her pants. 

Paige took a step back to take in the view. Azzi in her underwear, on the kitchen counter with those big eyes looking at her like she’s Azzi’s whole world. Paige’s heart couldn’t beat any faster than it already was, and she internally thanked God for bringing Azzi Jazlyn Fudd into her life.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” she swallowed and closed the distance between them.

“I think it’s the other way around,” Azzi whispered and wrapped her arms around Paige’s shoulders, stroking her nose against Paige’s. 

“Kinda overwhelming how much I love you,” Paige said and kissed Azzi’s nose. “Thank you for inviting the band. It meant a lot to me.”

“Is this your new way of dirty talk?” Azzi bit her lip teasingly. “Kinda soft.”

“I don’t care,” Paige said and peppered kisses all over Azzi’s face. “Just appreciate you.”

Azzi sighed in contentment, immediately giving up the teasing and caving in on Paige’s words of appreciation. 

“I love you too, P,” she whispered and gave a single soft kiss on the lips. “And I love you even more for letting me into your life, getting to know your friends and family. They’re wonderful, just like you.”

“But I’m still your favorite, right?” Paige asked playfully.

“Hmm, we’ll see, it depends,” Azzi replied. 

“Depends on what?”

Azzi didn’t reply, she just placed her hand on Paige’s head and slowly pushed her down to her knees. Azzi sat herself on the edge of the counter, spreading her legs and looking down on Paige. 

Paige tried to play it cool, but with Azzi’s legs spread like this, looking down on her, with her hand on her head, it was hard to not just dive in right away.

Azzi just rested her hand on top of Paige’s head, neither pushing or pulling her closer. She wanted Paige to take control by herself. But Paige didn’t move. She just looked up at Azzi with those blue eyes that penetrated her soul. Azzi was getting wetter and wetter, even though Paige didn’t even touch her. Somehow that made it worse. 

“Paige,” she breathed out impatiently, gently starting to pull her head closer, but Paige pushed her head back, not letting Azzi get what she wanted. 

“Nah-uh,” she said. “You gotta wait.”

“Wha- why?” Azzi asked, confused. 

“Because I say so,” Paige just said and started to place kisses on her thighs, getting closer and closer to the area Azzi really needed her, but still not touching her with her hands.

“Be a good girl and hold onto the counter for me,” she said and placed Azzi’s hands on the edge of the counter beside her legs. “And no touching.” It was a warning. It was a demand. 

Azzi swallowed hard and looked down at Paige, who still teasingly just kissed the insides of her thighs. At last, her face was positioned right in front of Azzi’s center, and she used her hands to spread Azzi’s legs a little bit more, to quickly remove her hands from her once again. 

She didn’t want to beg for it, not yet at least. But the way Paige took her time was making it really hard for Azzi to sit still. 

At last, Paige gave one small lick on top of her panties right over Azzi’s clit, making her softly whimper at the contact. Azzi was breathing heavily from refraining from the urge to just pull Paige’s head into her. 

“You’re doing so good for me,” Paige complimented and gave another stripe with her tongue over Azzi’s clothed center, this time with a little more pressure. It made Azzi squirm, instinctually grinding her hips forward. 

“Let’s take these off,” Paige said and slid down Azzi’s panties. 

She couldn’t help herself but to smirk at the sight of Azzi’s glistening pussy.

“You’re gonna make the counter wet,” Paige teased her. 

“Well, maybe you should do something about it before it gets to that then,” Azzi said with an annoyed tone. 

“You’re such a brat,” Paige replied, very amused with the impatience Azzi was feeling. 

“And you’re such a fucking tease,” Azzi said and grabbed Paige at the back of her head, forcibly pulling her closer to her center. 

But Paige grabbed her wrists and removed her hands from her head just as quickly. 

“Don’t fucking play with me,” Paige murmured low and stood up, face to face with Azzi, still holding her wrists. “I told you to hold onto the counter.”

Azzi just let out a short cold laugh. “You may think you have the control, but we both know who the desperate one is,” she said and ripped her wrist loose from Paige’s grip to harshly cup Paige’s clothed center, making her hips buckle involuntarily. 

Paige took a step back to try and gain some sense of control again, already missing the feeling of Azzi’s hand on her center. 

“See Paige, if you’re not gonna give it to me…” Azzi said and let her hand slide down slowly from her stomach down to her center, leaning back while teasingly caressing her own inner thigh in front of her girlfriend. 

Paige just stood there, dazed by the sight. So much for control, huh.

“Oh God,” Azzi moaned as she finally let her fingers stroke her clit. She was breathing heavily, eyes closed and head thrown back, practically grinding against her own fingers. 

The blonde woman could just stare. Because no matter how much she wanted to take the control back, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from seeing Azzi in pleasure. 

“Paige,” Azzi groaned, as she slipped two fingers into herself. 

“Fuck Azzi,” Paige exhaled. 

“Please,” the actress whimpered. “I need you.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Paige smirked. “Keep going.”

“Paige, please” Azzi whined, just wanting to feel her girlfriend on her once again. But Paige didn’t move. She just stood there, in front of her, watching. 

Until Paige walked away to the bedroom, and Azzi stopped fucking herself, just looking after her confused. She was starting to regret her decisions of being so defiant, but before she could really start to regret it, Paige came back with the strap in her hand. 

“Oh shit,” Azzi mumbled to herself. 

“You gonna be good now, or you wanna keep doing it by yourself?” Paige asked while removing her clothes to put on the strap. 

Azzi swallowed. She didn’t answer the question, but her silence was enough for Paige, and she smirked victoriously. 

“Bend over,” Paige commanded. Azzi almost gasped just by the words. She got off the counter and turned around, letting her upper body fall against it instead. 

Deciding to be a little bit more cooperative with Azzi, she lets her hands roam her back as she positions herself behind her, finally touching her girlfriend. Azzi relaxed into the touch, getting relieved she was finally getting touched. 

“See, you can be a good girl when you want to,” Paige said and let the tip of the strap touch Azzi’s folds. Her hands were on Azzi’s waist now. All she had to do was pull her backwards for the strap to enter her. 

“But it’s more- fuck!” Azzi didn’t get to finish her sentence before Paige had pushed into her. 

“You were saying?” Paige thrusted in and out of her steadily against the kitchen counter. Azzi didn’t say anything back, just had her eyes rolled back from pleasure. 

She could feel herself getting closer with each stroke. Whimpers and moans constantly leaving her mouth with every hit. 

Not having been touched for a week, Azzi felt her body being on alert for every touch, every stroke that Paige gave her. 

“I’m gonna cum,” she told Paige. “Please don’t stop.” 

The singer leaned forward with her upper body and pulled on Azzi’s hair to position her mouth by Azzi’s ear. She whispered sweet nothings in her ear. At least that’s what Azzi guessed, because all she could focus on was Paige’s thrusts and her mouth breathing hot air on her ear. 

“Paige,” Azzi moaned as the orgasm was crashing down on her. 

“I know baby,” Paige didn’t stop, she continued to let Azzi ride it out. 

Eventually Azzi put her hand on Paige’s stomach to signal that it was too much. Paige eased out of her and peppered kisses all over Azzi’s back and shoulders. 

“Baby,” Paige whispered. 

“Yeah,” Azzi let out breathlessly, still on the counter, just trying to catch her breath. 

“Wanna eat you out.”

Azzi let out a tired breath with a smile that said ‘of course you want’. 

The night seemed never ending. It had only been a week, but the two women craved each other’s touch like they had been away from each other for years. It’s funny how fast the memory of long distance fades, and is replaced by a greedy hunger for more, even when you already have more. 

The remainder of June was spent in Los Angeles with most time spent in Azzi’s apartment. But they made a tradition out of going on a road trip once a week somewhere. They had gone to San Diego, Santa Barbara, and even smaller road trips like to Venice Beach. Everything had been absolutely perfect. It had only been a few times where people would recognize them. And when that had happened, it was usually only one of them that people recognized. If it was a movie fan, they wanted a picture with Azzi. If it was a music fan, they wanted a picture with Paige. It was grateful that none of their hardcore fans had bumped into them.

Well, until they had gone to Malibu. 

There was a group of girls that saw them on the beach. Paige could instantly tell that they had eyes on them and turned to Azzi, who was sunbathing in the chair next to her. 

“I have a feeling we’re being watched,” Paige mumbled softly. 

Azzi discreetly turned her head to the side, and then to the next one as if she was stretching her neck, and looked with her eyes behind her sunglasses. She spotted the group of girls who didn’t look any older than seventeen years old. They were whispering to each other, constantly glancing towards the pair while giggling.

“Yup, they are definitely talking about us,” she mumbled back and grabbed a towel to cover up her bikini clad body.  

And as if on cue, one of the girls were being pushed towards the couple by her friends, and she nervously walked over to them.

“Um, hi,” she said, visibly stressed. 

Both Paige and Azzi sat up from their sun loungers and looked at her.

“Hi,” they both said in unison, Paige slower than Azzi. 

“We were just wondering if we could get some pictures with you Paige, we’re huge fans,” the girl said and pointed to her friends.

“Sure,” Paige said and raised from her chair. 

The girl waved her friends over, and they all ran. There were at least seven of them, Azzi counted. They all were older teenagers, they all were hysterical, and they all were eye-fucking her girlfriend. She didn’t feel jealous about it. After all, they were just kids. But she did feel uneasy with the way she couldn’t set any boundaries either. She was okay with it because she had to be. 

“You over there,” one of the girls said and pointed at Azzi. “Could you take the picture?”

“Of course,” Azzi said and stood up, receiving one of the girls' phones to take the picture with. 

The group of girls stood beside Paige with big smiles, having their arms around each other's shoulders. 

“Okay and can we take pictures with you one on one?” they asked.

And Paige, Azzi’s sweet Paige, of course agreed to it. It was one of the things she loved the most about Paige, and at the same time one of her pet peeves. The way she never set any boundaries, even though Azzi could tell that this whole interaction made her uncomfortable.

Azzi kept taking the pictures as each and every one of the girls were posing with Paige in front of her. It started out fine, but when they got to girl number four, it switched. 

“Can I hug you for the picture?” the girl asked. Now that was all natural, and Azzi didn’t think twice about it. The girl threw her arms around Paige from the side and rested her head against her chest with a big smile. Everything was fine, really, until the girl moved her hand a little bit too low for Azzi’s liking, palming Paige’s lower stomach. 

“Okay, done,” Azzi said curtly. “Next.”

“Damn, I hope they’re not actually together, cuz Azzi is kind of a bitch,” she overheard one of the girls whisper to the rest of the group. 

‘Oh so they do know who I am’, Azzi thought to herself and rolled her eyes at the whole situation. 

Then the next girl was up, and this time it took everything in Azzi to not throw the phone into the ocean. 

“Can you like, hug me from behind?” the girl requested. 

Azzi put her hand on her waist, her body language saying everything her mouth couldn’t. Paige noticed it and quickly wrapped her arms loosely around the girl's neck, not wanting to touch her any more than necessary. 

“Alright, next,” Azzi said with a very clearly annoyed tone. 

“Actually, I’m so sorry, but we have to go,” Paige interjected before the next girl could pose. 

“What? But we’re only three more, please,” the girl pleaded.

“I’m sorry,” Paige gave her an apologetic smile and grabbed the phone from Azzi’s hand to give it back to the group. 

The girls murmured disappointed comments amongst themselves and started to move along, but not before the blonde woman overheard one of the comments.

“Fuck Azzi Fudd. Paige never turned down fans until Azzi came into the picture.”

Paige snapped her head back to look at them with a big disapproving look, but the girls were too busy walking away to notice. 

“I’m sorry for that,” Paige said and looked down at Azzi who was sitting down on the sun lounger. grateful that she hadn’t heard the comment.

“It’s not your fault,” Azzi just said, clearly still irritated.

“Yeah but I kinda feel responsible. They’re my fans,” she said and sat down next to her, their legs touching.

“They’re not your children, Paige. They wouldn’t wanna fuck you if they were,” the actress said with an edge. 

Paige didn’t know what to say, because she didn’t know what was the right thing to do in those moments either. 

“It’s not that I’m jealous, I’m not, it’s just that…” Azzi started. 

“That what?”

“Seeing them interact with you like that in front of me just reminds me that I’m no different.”

“What? That’s crazy, you-”

“-No I know,” Azzi interrupted. “I just mean that, you belong to them as much as you belong to me. We’re just a rumour that we’re trying to get rid of. That’s all we are.”

“That’s not true. I’m your girlfriend,” Paige said. “That’s not a rumour.”

“Yes it is,” Azzi argued. “No one but us, and a few others, know that. It’s a dirty little secret at best.”

“Azzi,” Paige said with a lump in her throat. “If I could, I would show the whole world how much I love you. It’s killing me that I can’t. I don’t want to pretend, believe me. I don’t want to sit like this next to you and not just grab your hand and kiss you all over.”

It did feel better to hear Paige say that, but it didn’t stop Azzi’s unresolved feelings completely. But just enough for her to stop paying attention to them at the moment.

“I just want to protect us a little bit longer,” Paige said and rested her forehead against Azzi’s shoulder. “Please don’t give up on me.”

And that did it. Azzi felt a sense of guilt for making Paige think she wasn’t ready to battle Paige’s struggles side by side with her. 

“I won’t,” she whispered and gave Paige’s forehead a quick peck. “And I’m sorry too. I know it’s hard for you too.”

Paige could intellectually understand what Azzi meant, when she said that she felt like there was no difference between her and her fans. But emotionally, she was being torn between her own fears and boundaries, and not wanting to hurt her girlfriend. 

The girl’s comment about her Azzi made Paige feel a conflicted feeling she’s never felt before. Because she should be the one to speak up, to stand up for her girlfriend - but she didn’t. And somewhere deep inside Paige, that was scary. Because what if there’s something about it all she’s not ready to admit to herself.

But Paige put those thoughts aside. In her head, this wouldn’t be a problem once they would be in Minnesota. There, they would be in their own little bubble and have more privacy. 

—

July 2025

Minnesota was warm this time of year. Not as hot as LA, but just enough for Paige. She easily burnt anyway, and loved being out without getting heat stroke. 

The girl’s they had met on the beach in Malibu had posted the photos on Instagram, Tiktok and Twitter, and did not hold back on giving the details on their meeting. Their posts became some sort of forum for the debate whether or not Azzi and Paige were dating, and unfortunately, the forum for more hate towards the actress.

‘She’s not even that good of an actress, I don’t know what Paige sees in her’, someone on twitter had said, even tagging the both of them. 

“I don’t care how many more people I gotta pay to get those tweets deleted Sam, I want them gone by the next time I go on there,” Paige said angrily to her PR team manager on the phone. 

“Paige,” Azzi gently nudged her, sitting beside her on the couch. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not Azzi,” Paige snapped and got up from the couch. 

Azzi sank deeper down in her seat, watching her girlfriend go to her home office and closed the door. 

They had just been sitting on the couch together, cuddling, when Paige had stumbled over the endless amounts of tweets directed at her girlfriend. Azzi hadn’t paid attention to whatever Paige had been doing, until she had started to angrily cuss. Azzi had turned around and asked her what was wrong, and saw the comments on her phone.

It stung more than she wanted to admit. Seeing people comment on her acting, her appearance, her body, her face - everything. They were even debating whether she was using Paige for money or not, speculating how much Azzi were making from her quote-unquote ‘quirky little movies’. 

She understood quite early on that a lot of people would feel some type of jealousy, but she hadn’t been prepared to be torn down over her acting. She hadn’t been prepared to be deemed inadequate in the status, money, personality, skin color and body aspect of it all. 

The worst part was that she didn’t wanna tell Paige just how much it hurt her, because she felt like if she did, it would consume the entirety of their relationship, and Paige was already consumed by trying to control everything she could, even the things she couldn’t. 

But she did appreciate Paige’s effort to get rid of the nasty tweets. She did. Even if it felt like sweeping everything under the rug instead of handling the actual issue, like telling her fans off instead of being quiet. 

“I’m getting real fucking tired of these so called ‘fans’,” Paige came back out from the office, still angry, but sat down next to Azzi and looked her straight in the eyes. 

Azzi didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t say ‘it’s okay’ one more time. She didn’t want to defend the fans again either. But she really didn’t want to break down in front of Paige and let her see how much it got to her. 

Paige saw the hesitation in Azzi’s eyes, saw the uncertainty in her look. 

“Are you okay?” Paige asked softly. Too softly. 

Azzi just gave a quick nod and looked away. Opening her mouth to say yes was a risk of opening the gates of truth, and she was not ready. 

The singer put her arms around her and buried her head in Azzi’s crook of her neck. It completely unraveled her. Azzi’s tense body relaxed to the touch, and that was dangerous, because suddenly she felt like the tears she had been holding back were fighting their way out in her relaxed state.

And before she knew it, the first tear fell down her cheek. 

She involuntarily let out a quiet sob into Paige who was holding her tightly. And it broke Paige. 

“I’m so sorry baby,” Paige whispered, feeling her own eyes tearing up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

They both cried in each other’s embrace. The living room was filled with a glooming hopelessness in the air. 

Maybe if Paige hadn’t been Paige.

Or maybe if Azzi hadn’t been Azzi.

It felt like a punishment to be themselves. 

None of them knew the answer. But both of them knew the problem. 

Paige felt that some type of resolution was in her control, yet she felt powerless. How is it that power can feel so futile when it really mattered? That’s what Paige wondered, while Azzi wondered if Paige really understood the power of her silence. 

—

“How are you feeling?” Azzi asked her girlfriend, who was visibly nervous. 

“I’m fine. Just a bit nervous, that’s all,” Paige swallowed. 

It was a big deal, and an even bigger deal to Paige. 

Paige’s mom and her sibling were in town, wanting to meet Paige. Azzi had offered to do something else, to disappear for a few days to Paige’s dad’s place or something. But Paige had told her no, told her that she needed her there. 

And so the day had finally come. Azzi was gonna meet Paige’s mom, Ryan and Lauren.

“I'll be here for you the whole time,” Azzi said and rubbed Paige’s back while they were standing in the kitchen, having just prepared dinner.

“Thank you. You know how much I appreciate you?” Paige said and leaned on Azzi’s shoulder. 

The doorbell rang and Paige went to let her family in. 

Ryan came into view first. He was taller than Azzi had thought. Then she saw Lauren. She was very pretty, and had a lot of resemblance to her girlfriend. And then her mom, Amy, came in. 

“Welcome, welcome,” Paige murmured as the company took off their jackets. The siblings hugged Paige tightly and held onto her as if they didn’t want to let go. Her mom on the other hand, gave her a pat on the back and looked over at Azzi.

“Hi,” Azzi said with a big nervous smile and an outstretched hand. “I’m Azzi. You must be Paige’s mom.”

Amy shook her hand and gave her a small smile. “Hi, yes, I’m Amy. Nice to meet you.”

“Oh my God, Azzi Fudd!?” Lauren exclaimed in shock when she had let go of her older sister. 

“Hi, you must be Lauren,” Azzi said, and Paige swore to herself she could die from her girlfriend’s cuteness. 

“Why is Azzi Fudd here?” Lauren asked Paige in excitement. 

“She’s gonna eat dinner with us,” Paige replied. 

“She is!?” Lauren yelled. “Please can I sit next to her?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” Paige chuckled. 

Azzi just looked at Lauren and nodded with an affirming smile. 

Paige’s mom was very different from what Azzi thought she would be like. She was soft, a little bit shy, but still very kind and sweet. She asked Azzi a lot of questions, included Ryan and Lauren to help the flow of the conversations, and spoke with appreciative words towards the host, her oldest daughter. 

“This was delicious, Paige,” Amy complimented Paige. They were sitting in the living room, eating together around Paige’s bigger dining table. It almost felt like a festive holiday, the formality of using the big table, Azzi thought. 

“I got a little help from Azzi,” Paige smirked. 

“Oh no, I’m not a good cook, this was all Paige,” Azzi quickly shook her head. 

“You did the potatoes,” Paige said. 

“That’s not really something to brag about,” Azzi nervously laughed, and Amy politely chuckled. 

“It feels so weird to be sitting next to Azzi Fudd,” Lauren mused out loud. “Like, I just watched a movie with you the other day, and now you’re here.”

Azzi offered a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m glad I’m here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re friends with Azzi Fudd?” Lauren turned to her sister. “Especially since you’ve been obsessed with her since forever.”

“Bro, first of all, I wasn’t obsessed,” Paige quickly said.

“I already know you were, stop lying,” Azzi raised her eyebrows teasingly. 

“No you totally were,” Ryan chimed in. “If I hadn’t known better, it was like you were in love with her or something.”

“That’s cute,” Azzi smiled. Paige didn’t. 

“Whatever,” Paige mumbled. “Anyone want seconds or can I start cleaning up?”

Paige grabbed the plates and went to the kitchen. Amy stood up to go and help, but Azzi quickly intervened. 

“Oh please, let us, you can sit down while we clean,” Azzi smiled. “Don’t worry.”

“Thank you, honey, how sweet of you,” Amy sat down again and gave her a grateful smile. 

Azzi just nodded and grabbed some more plates to carry to the kitchen.

“You’ve really been talking about me to everyone for years, huh?” Azzi said as she entered the kitchen. Paige was already by the sink, doing the dishes. 

“Can you blame me? I mean, look at yourself,” Paige said flirtingly

“Alright, easy,” Azzi chuckled. “I’m already your girlfriend, no need to butter me up like that.”

“Well, I-”

Paige turned around and stopped dead in her tracks. 

Azzi looked at her confused and turned around as well, seeing Paige’s mom stand there with some leftover dinner in her hands with her lips pursed together into a thin line. Azzi didn’t know what to do. Both the daughter and mother seemed to be frozen by hearing Azzi say the g-word. 

“I think it’s time to leave,” Amy said at last and put down the food on the counter and left the kitchen. 

“Wait, mom-” Paige hurried behind her. 

A heavy breath escaped Azzi’s lips as she was left alone in the kitchen. Everything had gone so well, until she had opened her mouth. She leaned over the counter and continued on breathing deeply to calm down her own heart. 

In the living room, Amy was telling Ryan and Lauren that it was time to go. 

“But I thought we were staying here?” Ryan asked, confused, but his mom just grabbed his arm and shoved him up on his feet from his chair. 

“Change of plans,” she just said. “Come on Lauren.”

“Wait, mom, please don’t go,” Paige said and looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please, can we just talk first? Give me a chance to explain, please.”

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about,” her mom replied. 

“I wanna stay with Paige,” Lauren whined. 

“Me too,” Ryan agreed. 

“Please mom, for your children’s sake, can we talk first, and then you can decide whether or not you’ll leave,” Paige begged. 

Amy sighed, and Paige knew that she had won. 

“Fine. Wait here,” she told her children. 

The two women walked to Paige’s office and closed the door. This was no discussion for anyone else to hear. It was barely a discussion Paige wanted to hear either.

And now that she was here, standing face to face with her mom to talk about the thing she had avoided for years, she didn’t know what to say. She felt the urge to defend herself, to lie, to say that it wasn’t what she thought. But how could she do that to Azzi? 

“You wanted to talk, so talk,” her mom said after a full minute of silence. 

Paige swallowed nervously. 

“Can I just… I mean…” Paige sighed. “Do you still think less of me because of, you know?”

Her mom let out a breath of air as if it was a stupid question. 

“I don’t think less of you, Paige,” she said. “But it’s not a lifestyle I support and you know that. I could never defend choosing a path that leads to hell. And you’re gonna have to accept that. So if you’re gonna choose that lifestyle, you’re gonna have to accept that it comes with a life without me, Ryan and Lauren.”

“What?” Paige exhaled bewildered. 

“It’s just not right. I don’t want my children near it.”

“I’m your daughter, I’m their sister, you can’t take that away from me,” Paige’s voice was shaking. ‘Not again’, she thought to herself. 

“I’m not the one taking it away from you,” her mom said. “You are.”

Paige felt the lump in her throat and the tears started to crowd her eyesight.

“You can’t,” she begged. “Please.”

“You need help, Paige,” Amy just said and exited the office without another word, without another look. 

As the door closed, Paige collapsed down on her knees with her head falling in her hands. The tears were streaming down her face uncontrollably, and it felt like she couldn’t breathe. 

Somehow, it was worse this time. Because she had spent the last ten years living a life to not ever get to this point again - and yet here she was, on her knees, being left by her mom once more. 

How is it possible that a feeling can survive ten years and be resurrected as if it was yesterday? It should be gone. This feeling should be new. This feeling shouldn’t exist. Not after everything Paige has repressed. Not after everything she’s done to never have to relive it again.

Azzi was in the kitchen, hearing Amy gathering Ryan and Lauren and then shutting the front door. And then it was quiet. Eerily quiet. 

She slowly walked to the living room to see the empty chairs. 

They left. 

“Paige?” She softly spoke. Did they all leave? What happened?

She checked the bathroom. Empty. She checked the bedroom. Empty. She checked the studio. Empty. 

At last, when she came to the office, she found her.

“Paige,” she breathed and lunged forward to the floor where Paige was still crying into her hands. She didn’t say anything else, she just put her arms around her and held on tightly. 

They stayed like that for an hour. 

Paige was hyperventilating and was trying to breathe while holding onto Azzi as if she was scared to death. Because she was. Scared of herself, because why did this keep on happening, no matter how hard she tried?

Azzi felt her struggling by the way Paige’s whole body was twitching with every involuntary sharp inhale. Her shirt was wet from Paige’s tears and her arms probably had two bruises on them from Paige’s hard grip.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I got you.”

Time is a funny thing when it feels like the world is crashing down. It feels like forever and it feels like a second. Because somehow, hours had gone by, and Paige’s breathing had finally returned to normal. 

The grip she had on Azzi’s arm’s were now loose, and her breathing quite deep. Azzi stroked the blonde hair gently and carefully leaned backwards to look at Paige’s face.

She was asleep. 

Azzi carefully stood up and took Paige in her arms, carrying her bridal style to the bedroom and put her down on the bed. She went to the bathroom and got a wet towel to wipe Paige’s face that was stained by dry tears. 

Azzi didn’t sleep much that night. She constantly looked at Paige in case she would wake up and need her. 

It was not until five in the morning she involuntarily fell asleep. 

—

Azzi woke up to an empty bed.

She sat up in the bed in panic and looked around. Her head was still groggy from just waking up to think rationally. 

“Paige?”

No answer. She got up and walked out to the kitchen, where she saw her girlfriend sitting by the table with her glasses on, hair in a low bun, a simple white t-shirt and some sweats, with her phone in her hand and a coffee mug in the other. 

“Hi,” Paige said a bit surprised as she looked up from her phone. 

“Hi,” Azzi said back and stopped in her tracks. 

They just looked at each other, until Paige put her mug down and waved her over.

“Why are you just standing there, come,” she said and motioned for her to sit down with her. 

“What time is it?” Azzi asked.

“One pm.”

Azzi just hummed for an answer. Paige returned her attention to her phone. 

“Is it too early to talk about it?” Azzi carefully asked. 

Paige put down her phone and sighed. “Yeah.”

“But… Are you okay?” 

The singer pursed her lips together and made a face. “Not the best.”

“That’s alright,” Azzi said. “Is there something I can do?”

Paige stiffened with that question. “I don’t think so,” she slightly shook her head. 

Azzi swallowed. This was not what she had expected. She hadn’t expected to wake up seeing Paige sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee all normal, as if nothing had happened. She hadn’t expected her to not want to talk about it. She hadn’t expected her to give short answers and not let her in. Not after she had held her for hours. 

“Okay, well, let me know if there is,” she said lowly. Paige just gave her a small smile and picked up her phone to return her attention to it instead of Azzi.

But Paige never brought it up again. And Azzi felt an inescapable sense of distance from her girlfriend. Sure, everything on the surface was the same. The compliments, the fun parts, the sex… But on the emotional level, Azzi didn’t even know what Paige felt anymore. It was as if Paige was there, but only half-heartedly. 

During the whole duration of July, it was killing Azzi to not know what had happened that day between Paige and her mom. She had tried one more time to ask Paige, but she had just said that she didn’t want to talk about it, and Azzi had accepted it. But it felt like a rejection. 

—

August 2025

“I feel like Paige isn’t letting me into her emotional life.”

It was in the middle of August and Azzi had gone back to LA from Minnesota to start shooting her new film. The actress had called Ice Brady after a very frustrating call with her girlfriend, where she had yet again tried to get her to open up, but once again had failed. She just needed someone that knew Paige to tell her that she shouldn’t worry about it, or something comforting. That’s how she ended up at Ice Brady’s apartment.

“Why is that?” Ice asked. They were sitting on her couch in her living room, sipping on some red wine.

“Okay, don’t tell her I told you this, but something happened with her mom like a month ago, and I found her crying on the floor in her office. It went on for like hours, until she passed out from exhaustion in my arms. And I still don’t know what happened,” Azzi told her. 

“Have you asked her?” Ice asked.

“Of course I have,” Azzi deadpanned. “She just tells me she don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Hm, okay,” Ice said. “Does she tell you why she doesn’t wanna talk about it at least?”

“No. But the thing that started it all was that her mom overheard me saying that I’m Paige’s girlfriend, and I know that her mom is not accepting of her being gay. After that, they disappeared from the room, and then her mom and her siblings left, and that’s when I found her crying.”

“Damn,” Ice exhaled. “I feel like it’s something serious then.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t wanna push, but I also feel this is not how it’s supposed to be, being her girlfriend and not even knowing how to be there for her, because I don’t know what exactly happened.”

“Okay but it obviously has something to do with the fact that she overheard you guys, right?” 

“Yeah,” Azzi confirmed.

“Look Az,” Ice said. “I was there the last time she had a PR crisis and all that. She never outright told me it was about her being gay, but I could tell it was a touchy subject for her. So I understand if you feel like she’s shutting you out, but it’s nothing personal, I think she just doesn’t know how to open up about it.”

Azzi felt somewhat relieved to hear that she’s not the only one who Paige isn’t opening up to. Because the last weeks had been hard for her. Ever since that day with Paige’s mom, she could see how Paige was struggling in silence. 

The distance between them had grown, and Azzi didn’t know how to meet Paige in the middle anymore. It felt like she was fumbling in the dark after her. 

And all this while the internet was still tearing her down. 

It’s like a wildfire, the narrative that spreads on social media. It only takes one tweet to go viral for it to become some sort of trend - some sort of truth. And the latest truth? It was that Azzi Fudd was an overrated actress with an attitude. The typical female actor narrative. And who had started that discourse if not her girlfriend’s fans. 

Everything felt so backwards. The one person who should be able to open up to her, wasn’t, and the people who should love their favorite’s girlfriend, didn’t. 

Paige had said she didn’t want to hide Azzi, but it sure felt like it. And after the thing with her mom, it was like Paige didn’t want to be seen with Azzi in public at all. 

Azzi started to feel like a mistake. Like someone Paige was trying to erase from her image in real time, while still being next to her. Azzi felt like she needed to shrink herself to fit into the small space Paige was ready to offer her. 

All these feelings, and Paige still said the most promising things to her. She always bought her flowers, she always cooked them dinner, she always told her how much she loved her… She did everything right when they were alone. 

But Azzi couldn’t ignore all the times when they weren’t alone, or all the times Paige didn’t open up. 

Something had to change. 

Or this could never work. 

It was stirring deep inside of the actress's heart. She didn’t know how much longer she could ignore it. 

Paige, on the other hand, was sitting in a meeting with her PR team and the band’s manager, Geno, in Minnesota, talking about her future. 

“The comment’s about Azzi are still out of control,” Paige said. 

“We are aware, but there’s very little we can do about that discourse. People are free to voice their opinions, and there’s nothing we can do but delete the worst one’s,” Sam, the PR manager explained. 

“Paige, you can’t control everything,” Geno chimed in. 

“I know that,” Paige snapped. 

Geno had noticed the singer’s short temper for the last few weeks. He had never seen Paige this irritated and impatient before. 

“Paige, what is going on with you lately?” he softly asked. 

“Nothing,” she said curtly. 

“I can tell something’s wrong,” he pushed. 

"Oh, can you?” she asked sarcastically.

“Alright, that’s it,” he stood up and pointed at her. “Come with me.” 

“Why?”

“Just come.” 

The two exited the office and Geno led her to another smaller office. Paige took a seat in one of the chairs and Geno closed the door.

“You’re acting like a defiant teenager right now, and that’s not working for me,” Geno said, almost scolded. “So you’re either telling me what’s wrong, or we’re done.”

With those words, Paige flinched. 

‘Or we’re done’. It sounded too much like the ultimatum her mom had given her. 

“I can’t,” she breathed out nervously. 

“What do you mean you can’t?” Geno sat down in the chair in front of her. 

“I can’t talk about that. It’s… too much.”

“That’s exactly why you need to,” her manager said softly. “You can’t carry everything by yourself, Paige. We’re all here for you.”

“Everytime I think about it it feels like I’m gonna choke,” she explained. “Like I can’t breathe.”

“Try, and if you have a hard time breathing, we’ll stop,” he insisted. 

Paige nodded. In that moment she looked like a child, trying to tell her parents she's peed her pants. But Geno sat there, patiently waiting for Paige to start. And the way he waited persistently, gave her a little more courage. 

“You know how I have a strained relationship with my mom? Last month we got into a fight… And she said that if I choose to be gay, she and my siblings won’t be in my life anymore.”

Geno sat there quietly, letting her speak freely without interrupting.

“And now I don’t know what to do,” Paige broke down. She started to cry right in front of him.

Geno took his chair and sat beside her and placed his hand on her back, comforting her.

“That’s a lot you’ve been carrying by yourself, kid,” he said. 

Paige wiped away her tears from her face and took several deep breaths to stop herself from crying too much. 

“You haven’t told anyone about this? Not even Azzi?” he asked after a while.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t. How can I tell her that my mom made me choose between her or my family, without making her feel guilty?”

Geno didn’t have an answer to that. 

“Exactly,” Paige murmured. “I love Azzi. But I love my siblings as well. And I’d do anything for them. It’s killing me that I can’t have both. What do I do, Geno? What the hell do I do?”

The man took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. He didn’t have an answer to that either.

“And on top of that, our fans are bullying my girlfriend right in front of me. I know she won’t admit it, but I can tell how much it hurts her. It feels like I’m just bringing bad things into her life now. I can’t… I don’t even have the guts to stand up for her. I’m not even grown enough to be out and proud for her. I feel like a curse to her and myself.”

“I understand that it feels like an impossible situation. But you won’t find the answers on your own. You have to talk to Azzi about your relationship instead of trying to make decisions for the both of you,” Geno said at last. 

“It is an impossible situation,” Paige just said. 

“So if it’s an impossible situation, what do you have to lose, talking to Azzi?” Geno questioned. 

Paige thought about it for a while, before answering: “Everything.” 

—

[koenigami]

“skyhaven - x02. 20th neural control experiment. test subject is starting to adapt. prepare higher voltage-”

there’s a deep voice that documents the horrific video recordings. your hands shake, fingers hovering above the computer keys as you contemplate whether to stop your suffering. or rather, his suffering?

mechanical sounds and buzzes fill the dark room you've snuck inside. when his whimpers and pain induced groans reach your ears, your stomach drops. goosebumps litter your skin, and you swear you start feeling nauseous.

confidential files related to protocores. that’s what you came here for initially. caleb himself had made sure you could easily snoop around a bit through the fleet's archives, of course only with restricted access to limited files and programs.

the pictures and videos of your lover being tortured and experimented on until he was barely conscious… those have not been locked away behind a secret passcode.

just as you’re about to pull the usb drive out and turn everything off, unable to watch him suffer any longer, the sound of a door falling shut behing you catches your attention.

“did you find what you were looking-”

caleb freezes and swallows thickly once he recognizes his own voice in the background, the video still playing. almost as if on loop. the same procedures over and over again. never ending torture. instinctively, his left hand moves up to clutch his right arm, the all too familiar phantom pain flaring up again once he sees his own convulsing body on the monitor.

“caleb…”

but none of the pain compares to the one that shoots through his chest once he notices the look on your face. he's seen you terrified before. he's been with you at the haunted house in town when you were younger. he's held you through the strongest storms, and comforted you in the darkest nights when sleep wouldn’t come easy to you. but this-

“pips.” your body recoils when his hand reaches out to you, his fingertips barely grazing your wet cheek.

he knows that the betrayal runs deep because he’s never uttered a word to you about the things that he’s been through. nervously, he combs his fingers through his hair while he watches you frantically approach the desk again and close the tab of the video. though the silence doesn’t last long.

“they hurt you.” shaken, breathless. as if you've been physically put through the same pain that he has been through.

“it wasn’t that bad-”

“it was.” once the first sob escapes you, you’re unable to control them. on shaky legs, you eventually do take careful steps towards him as if he were a wounded animal. that’s why he didn’t tell you. he's not deserving of your pity. it's only his burden to bear. “i don’t even want to imagine how much pain y-you had to endure.”

all alone. by himself. not a single soul to hold his hand through the atrocious experiments that they conducted on him. no one to confide in. just your caleb, all by himself. your soft cries and sniffs pierce his heart like daggers when you try to muffle them behind your palm.

“no, no, no… hey, c'mere.” his warm embrace envelops you instantly like a safe cocoon, though instead you wish you could have done the same for him during his darkest times. you feel his lips on the side of your head as he hushes you gently, his right arm around your waist so steady yet so cold. “it’s okay. to be honest, i barely even remember a thing.”

he doesn’t. but his body does, and so does his subconsciousness since otherwise he wouldn’t be plagued by nightly dreams that remind him of every single second spent in that lab.

“i won't-” your throat bobs as you try to take a breath, and you feel caleb's hand press into your spine to straighten your back. with your iron grip on his uniform, it’s as if you feared he would slip right through your hands. but it’s your next words that make his stomach churn and tears sting his own eyes. “i won’t let them hurt you again, caleb. i promise.”

and you’re going to hunt them down. every single one of them.

[ysabelmystic]

Due to popular demand, I will now share my personal worst “how are you allowed to go outside” patient story.

Pt limped into the ER with a complaint of a sprained ankle. I went out to the waiting room with my wheelchair and found two women in their early-mid 40s dressed in business clothes. Not to go by appearance, but usually a minor complaint made by a very well-dressed adult is a harbinger of a relatively easy, no-nonsense visit.

What I told myself was a lie

I helped her into the wheelchair and took her to my triage room.

“So, you sprained your ankle, huh?”

“I think so,” she said.

I asked her what she did to it. She said she wasn’t sure. I asked her what her pain level was out of ten, ten being the worst pain ever and zero being none. She thought about it and said, “I don’t know. Maybe… a two?”

I rephrased my question. “What about when you put weight on it?”

She thought about it and said, “I don’t know. Maybe… a three?”

I asked her how long ago she’d sprained her ankle. She said she’d “just noticed” that she’d sprained it today. I asked her if I could look at her ankle. She rolled up her slacks and revealed a very normally-colored, normally-textured, unswollen, and thoroughly unremarkable ankle. I asked her to show me where the swelling was. She crossed her leg over her lap and pointed at a tiny bump with a tinier pinprick of a dot in the center.

I mm hmmd and asked her if this was where her ankle hurt most. She confirmed that this dot was indeed the epicenter of her pain. She informed me that she believed it was a bug bite. I asked her how this related to her sprained ankle. She said that her ankle must’ve been sprained because it was swollen, and last time her ankle had swelled up, it had been because she sprained it. I asked her if she had recently tripped on anything, maybe stepped on her foot wrong, or anything else that might commonly result in a sprained ankle. She confirmed that she had not. I asked if her main evidence for the assumption of a sprained ankle was indeed just the bug bite. She confirmed that it was. I asked her if she was able to bear weight on the alleged sprained ankle. She said that she could.“Without an increase in pain?” “Without an increase in pain”. I asked her why she had limped into the waiting room and required a wheelchair. She said that it was because last time she had sprained her ankle, she’d been told not to put weight on it, as it could damage the joint, and she did not want to damage her joint. Incredulous but armed with my mask and poker face, I summarized her complaint -which I was sorry to ask her to repeat herself, but my triage sheet only allows me a small number of letters and I needed to be as concise as possible, which I hoped she’d understand-: she was concerned her ankle was sprained because of swelling surrounding a bug bite. She confirmed, that yes, that was precisely why she’d came in.

I smiled and nodded, and wrote down exactly that.

I wheeled her into one of my low-acuity rooms and told her the doctor would see her in a moment, that we would likely take some x-rays, and we would go from there, and if she needed me, I’d be right across the hall. She and her friend were agreeable enough. I brought her a blanket, and then went back to my room to stare at my computer in silence before triaging my next patient.

It was a busy night, shenanigans abound and a lobby full, so I couldn’t sit at my desk for long. Mostly, I was running circles around the ER. My desk is directly next to the waiting room doors, which can only be opened by an employee with a badge. If the door is opened without a badge, an alarm goes off. To prevent such incidences, we have several big, yellow signs on the door that say “🛑✋🏻 DO NOT PUSH DOOR”.

Unfortunately, people are stupidly, and they do it anyways.

I was making another loop doing ER nurse things when I heard the door alarm. I went to the hall to see who it was, and perhaps, let them out. To my surprise, the culprits were my patient and her friend. My patient was standing on one foot.

I asked her why she was leaving. After all, we hadn’t discharged her yet. Her x-ray results hadn’t even popped up yet. She said she thought she was good to leave after the x-ray. I informed her that the doctor needed to look at the x-ray and treat any injury she might have. She said, “oh. I thought you guys would email it to me”. I said no we would not, and how would we get her a brace or medication if she had indeed sprained her ankle. She said she assumed we would email that as well. I said we couldn’t email an ankle brace. She asked if we’d mail it to her. I said not on the same day, and asked if she needed a wheelchair to return to her room. She said she did not, and hopped on one foot back to her room.

The x-ray revealed no evidence of a sprained ankle. I don’t know what she said to the doctor upon receiving that information, but the doctor was in there much longer than I expected, and the conversation was vexing enough that the doctor put in a prescription for antibiotics because apparently it was easier to say, “we diagnose you with swollen ankle and you should take an antibiotic for it” than it was to explain to this woman that there was nothing wrong with her ankle except for a small bug bite which is surely something you’ve dealt with before since you are a 40yo who lives in the southern region of the United States of America. At this time, most pharmacies in town were closed, so I was to administer the first dose, and she would get the remainder of the course from the pharmacy in the morning.

I entered the room and asked if she was ready to go home. She said that she was. I explained that I had an antibiotic for her, which she would take now, and that she could get the rest from her pharmacy in the morning. She seemed to understand this well enough. I scanned her wristband, scanned the pill, put the pill in a medicine cup, and handed her the cup. She looked at the pill and then back at me, and asked what time it was. I gave her the time (which was sometime close to midnight). She hmmmd to herself, looked at the pill, and remarked that it was a very good thing we were giving her this pill. Now she wouldn’t have to take her other pills tonight! I asked her why she thought that. She said that if she got a pill at the doctor’s office, it meant she didn’t have to take her regular pills because if it came from the doctor’s office it would cover everything else. I asked her what meds she took. She said she didn’t know (which I should’ve expected). I asked if she took a blood pressure pill. She said yes. I asked if she took a “water pill”. She said yes. And I asked if she took anything for her heart. And she said yes.

I informed the patient that antibiotics would not help her heart or her blood pressure. She seemed confused. She said that whenever a doctor gave her a new pill, she stopped all her other pills until the new pill was finished. I told her that she should take her medications as recommended unless her doctor or pharmacist specifically said not to take them. She said, “Really?” And I said yes, and recommended that she go home and take her other pills. She asked me if that’s why she got headaches whenever doctors gave her new pills. I told her probably so. She took her antibiotic and signed her discharge papers. I asked if she wanted a wheelchair, and she said no.

I went back to my desk.

The door alarm went off.

I looked out to see my former patient and her friend had once again pushed the door. This time, they stopped themselves. I got up from my seat and told them I’d buzz them out, and to get home safe. I scanned my badge, and the doors opened.

But my patient and her friend did not move.

I watched them stand at the threshold, my patient standing on one foot.

The doors hung open. About twenty seconds passed, and then they slowly, slowly closed.

The lock reactivated.

My patient pushed on the door, set off the alarm, and hopped out into the great expanse of the hospital parking lot at night.

…

Third place goes to the woman who checked in because three days ago she’d drank a soda at a sketchy wings place that turned out to have a roach in it. She’d called the restaurant and asked if there could’ve possibly been any more roaches in that soda, and if their roaches had diseases. The lady on the other end had told her no and no (I would’ve paid money to hear this conversation), but my patient wasn’t so sure, because every time she thought about drinking the roach-soda, or was drinking the flavor of soda that had contained the roach, she felt nauseous. After a visit with Dr Google, she’d come to conclusion that she had salmonella. The roach had given her salmonella. I asked her if the nausea went away when she was drinking a different kind of soda or wasn’t thinking about the roach, and she said yes.

It was a very short ER visit.

You’re all very welcome.

I met new contenders for “dumbest patients I’ve ever met” and it ruined my whole damn night

[blossomcola]

what do we think abt dom gp yujin overstimulating r AND CUNT SLAPS 😵‍💫

pairing. mean dom!gp ahn yujin x sub!fem reader

content warnings. breeding, creampie, degradation, fingering, pussy slaps??, riding, squirting.

i have this firm affirmation that yujin could definitely last multiple rounds because this girl is insatiable and a simple fuck will not satisfy her hunger ☝🏻 i mean, yes, she could get tired and collapse on the bed at the end of a fuck that practically breaks the bed, but the energy returns to her body after a short time because she is not easy to conform <3 this would mean that you have to have a lot of stamina or pain pills if you want to be with yujin.

she can make you lie on your back in bed and fuck you until your legs shake on her shoulders, demanding you on top and riding her until your thigh muscles are shaking and all she can pay attention to is your tits bouncing in front of her face, once you’re tired she bends you over on the bed with your face in the pillows and your ass in the air to fuck you from behind until you’re filled to the brim for being so good to her <3 yujin never seems to tire and it’s noticeable when as the night progresses she seems to have more and more ideas popping into her twisted brain.

she’s kind of mean because she would make fun of you the whole time you say you’re tired because she doesn't believe you at all :( you may notice yourself visibly tired, lazy behavior and body aching because she literally tore you apart — but yujin doesn’t care about your pleading and sobbing because all her attention is on your pussy, clenching around nothing and with her cum and your juices combined together slowly sliding out of your hole and running down your slit until it makes a small puddle under your hips and on the bedsheets, practically begging for attention and to be filled again... yujin can only slide two long fingers inside you, pumping them in and out to slide her cum inside you and make sure your pussy swallows it whole, smiling cruelly when she sees you arch your back and close your thighs around her hand since you were sensitive and somewhat overstimulated :( she would make fun of you for it, saying shit like “i can’t believe you’re tired when you prove me wrong…” but immediately removing her fingers from your sex when your walls clench around her fingers, only to slap you across the pussy and practically giggle when she hears you whimper but at the same time push your hips towards her hand??? yujin would call you names like “dirty whore” seeing that you enjoy how she is literally slapping your pussy but she would do it until you ended up squirting all over her hand just from her cruel touch... once you’re all red and sore, she’d stop, saying she’d give you a gentle fuck and a creampie because according to her, that would ease your pain <3

[mika-thexd]

t-taph x reader ?🥺👉🏻👈🏻

A/n: OMG YES??? I LOVE TAPH SM THAT LITTLE MUTE PIGEON HAS ME ON A CHOKEHOLD AND IT DOESN'T HELP HOW LITTLE FANFICS THERE ARE OF HIM 😭 and since your request isn't really specific I assumed you wanted a band au or my mic's and drums au? I don't know if you wanted it but hey! If you don't like it then you could request more (totally not me inviting you to request more 🥺) this is also when the reader and taph are high school teenagers so there's no suggestive stuff here

Bass guitarist! Taph

Bass guitarists never get any attention do they? A forgotten middle child between the lead singer and the electric guitarist, important to hold a place in a band but not eye catching enough to get attention.

I mean, if you're easy in the eyes then people will turn to you from time to time, they will cheer for you then and there. But what about those who conceal themselves to the public? A bass guitarist that held a mysterious aura with them, all dark and ominous. Will they get attention?

In one way or another they do, although from a small percentage, a small percentage that is demeaned as underrated to any band fan base.

And Taph wouldn't trade that for the world.

Don't get him wrong, he loves attention from time to time, but in the long run? His anxiety could never. So why was he in a band? Because of his friends of course, since they knew how Taph can be they assigned him as a bass guitarist with Guest.

A perfect fit for someone so closed off but also had a dash of mischief.

And attention shouldn't make him this nervous right? It's just one person staring at him with so much concentration that it can rival two time's concentration on their keyboard, right?

It was almost as if they were trying to engrain his face in their eye sockets, but he just ignored it throughout the concert and continued his strumming, sometimes glancing at the crowd.

They would eventually leave right?

Unfortunately for Taph, the world isn't that fair, so when all of them went back to their "studio" which was just shedletsky's garage, he thought that he could finally rest from all the judgemental stares.

That was before the same person showed on shedletsky's front door, banging the door and calling out to him. It made him flinch but he kept going with his practices.

"SHEDLETSKY OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN"

He jumped at the sudden loud voice booming through the house. Shedletsky just sighed and stopped his humming "you guys continue your practice, I have a little bird to take care of" he grumbled before leaving the garage. Taph tilted his head "🫵🤔🚪💥🤛" (whose that knocking the door down) he asked as Shedletsky looked at him "oh, you'll meet them don't worry" he said and continued his grumbling towards the door.

Taph shrugged and looked down again to strum two cords over and over again while day dreaming.

Then, in the corner of his eyes, Taph could see another person walking beside him. The person was radiating sunshine and rainbows, if he wasn't looking down, he would've been blinded by them.

"ELLIE! my favorite electric guitarist!" The person exclaimed as they ran up to Elliot with a bright smile on their face. Elliot chuckled and hugged them back "hello to you too" he greeted them. Then they pulled back and started to talk eachother about random stuff.

This lasted for about fifteen minutes before moving to the other members, and you all greeted them and engaged in small talk. Until finally their eyes pulled towards Taph. His dark cloak blending in the darkness, with gold accents. You naturally gravitated to him as they watched him play his guitar with intensity.

Until finally, a flash of recognition brightened up their head, "you're the newest guitarist aren't you?" They asked when they suddenly appeared in front of him, he jumped at the sudden closeness and sweat dropped.

When he finally saw them, his eyes widened in shock before backing up abit— you were the one that eyes him intently while cheering for the other members.

"Woah..." They said in amazement as they gazed at him with no space in between them— Their sense of personal space, gone when they saw Taph just minding their own business. Builderman saw this and scolded you lightly about it "don't do that kid" he said as he pulled you back at the scruff of your neck like a mother cat carrying their kitten.

"Sorry... It's just that—" you then pointed at him while he dumbfoundedly pointed at himself too in confusion— as if questioning you about it. "It's been decades since you guys accepted a new member to your band!" They exclaimed as they circled him like a shark.

Builderman just sighed at your antics and shook his head tiredly, "as much as I want you to socialize with my members, I don't want them to be uncomfortable" he said as he lightly pushed them towards another band member, "you can meet him when he's not overwhelmed"

You sighed in defeat, "fineeee" they said as you dragged along to the other members.

Taph tilted his head at builderman, "🫵🤔❓" (who was that?) He asked him "that was-" he said as he said your name. Taph nodded; you definitely piqued his interest, not only did he get a rare instance of attention from a person, it seemed as if they were close with the band members.

He wanted to know more about them. But unfortunately he had to wait

Well, truth be told he didn't really need to wait, because that moment came when you guys had alone time— no not THAT kind of alone time you dirty minds.

They were sipping their Boba while adjusting the strings of Chance's guitar while grumbling. And a few feet away from you, there was Taph observing you.

You could feel his intense stare, but they really couldn't care less because you had other things to fix, and that was Chance's guitar.

"Stupid chance... Always having their guitar off tune... Now I have to fix this shit" they grumbled underneath their breath.

Then your gaze flickered towards him, he jumped, startled by the sudden eyes that stared him down "Y'know you're not as slick as you like to pretend" you said, your amusement laced in your voice.

Since there wasn't any point to try to hide, he walked over to you and sat on the speaker in front of you. "👀🫵🔧❓" (what are you working on?) "Oh, I'm just fixing Chance's guitar because nobody wanted to" they said while twisting and strumming the guitar; he was surprised that they understood sign language, but he wasn't complaining.

"You're the newbie right?" They asked, he nodded and you hummed in acknowledgement. Then you set the guitar down, already done with fixing the guitar. They observed them, although you didn't lean in to him. Which he was thankful for, he didn't really want a stranger to invade his personal space.

"What was your name again?..." You then stared at the roof, then you snapped your fingers and pointed your finger at him "Taph right?" You asked, he nodded in confirmation.

"You were supposed to be an electric guitarist right?" They asked as they sipped their Boba. He nodded, again, and you hummed. Yeah, the conversation was one sided, but what could you expect with a mute boy and a person that was too tired to function? But weirdly enough, the silence wasn't awkward, it was just... Comfortable, like talking to the stars late at night.

"🫵🎶👬❓" (are you friends with the band members?) You nodded, "yeah I am, what about you? What made you join them?" You asked, genuinely curious. "😎🏆🎤💃➡️👀👥🗣️👉🫵" (I won a talent a competition, the saw and asked me to join them) you nodded and chuckled abit "sounds like them alright, let me guess, they begged you until you agreed?" He chuckled before nodding, you smiled.

The conversations were a little awkward with him, but you made it work, you would ask him questions he would answer, then you would Yap again. A true "yapper x listener" friendship.

And with the silence of music and the notes of a guitar, was You and Taph's relationship blooming.

You guy's friendship bloomed after that one fateful encounter in Noob's room. You started to get more and more comfortable with him, and in return he started to get more and more cheeky to you. The others saw this and smiled; Taph wasn't really a sociable person, so seeing him being playful to a friend made them feel like a proud parent, especially Builderman, since he wasn't attached to his side now, instead he was attached to you.

"Taph c'monnnnnn TEACH ME THE WAYS OF THE BASS GUITAR"

You screamed as you shook him back and forth, Taph just chuckled at your desperation, the mute pigeon not moving from his place.

He actually was gonna teach you, but where's the fun in immediately agreeing and not seeing them suffer? So he dragged this cat and mouse chase as long as he could, well, as long as your short ass patience could.

You stopped shaking him and slumped back, he shook his head in amusement "🙄🫡📚🧠➡️🫵" (ugh fine I'll teach you) and your eyes lit up, "really??!" "😒✋🫵🍑🪑⬇️" (yeah yeah, now sit your ass back down) you shot your fists up in the air in excitement. "HECK YEAH"

Then you looked around for a chair, then your eyes saw Taph sitting at the only chair, Taph saw this and tilted his head in confusion, an awkward silence quickly followed.

"... You're sitting on the only chair"

Another beat of silence followed that made him process the information, and the only response was a shrug— not really taking the situation seriously

"WH-WHAT DO YOU MEAN-" you then imitated his shrug as if to confirm the outright stupidity of it all"-WHAT DO YOU MEAN??" he then shrugged again "🫵😤🪑🎯🦵🦵😎" (you can just sit between my legs) you looked at him like he grew three heads.

"ARE YOU DUMB OR ARE YOU FLIRTING??" you screamed as you backed away from him while throwing an accusatory finger at him, he just rolled his eyes "🙄👉🪑❌🪵⬇️🧎‍♂️" (fine, but don't blame me if you're gonna have a hard time) your eyes twitched when he replied, you can just feel his sassiness radiating from him. "I-i can't believe you!" You said with a red face and your heart beating fast.

So now you have two options: either struggle while practicing because you wanted to have dignity, or just suck it up and actually practice peacefully, either way you're sacrificing something.

You gulped down your saliva and grumbled "fine you fuckin asshole" he then smirked and tilted his head, as if to tease you. "Move asshole" he just chuckled but made way for you. You sat down and crossed your arms "I did not agree to this" you angerly said.

He rolled his eyes and just set the bass guitar on your thighs, the plastic slate bare and cold against your skin, which contrasted to the burning feeling of being flustered.

He then rests his chin on your head, which did not help, it just makes things worse for your heart, which in question was beating so fast it could run a marathon.

And to think that Taph wasn't any better either, he's just lucky that his cloak hid his face, which was red as a tomato by now, but he couldn't stop the teasing, it didn't stop his growing need to fluster you more.

He just smiled while signing the things that he knows on how to strum a bass guitar, "🫵❓🤔📖🎸🔤"E"➰" (do you know what the e string is?) You just gulped and shook your head, not trusting your voice to say your thoughts.

And while he was teaching you how to play the bass guitar, a growing, nagging feeling crept up to both of you.

Love

"What in rom com did I just walk into?"

A/n: to the other requests I have in my inbox: GUYS IM WRITING THE REQUESTS RN IM JUST SLOW 😭 anyways 😋 I hope you Taph toe suckers love this

[twopoppies]

Hi Gina I was wondering if you could help me understand the reason for Harry’s kiss last night. I’m so new to this fandom and it’s my first time experiencing stunting so now that Louis and Harry are both stunting I’m lost. If there isn’t any contracts or anything forcing them to do this then why on earth would either of them choose to stunt? Especially Harry because people know he’s queer already (well many assume) and he doesn’t have a reason to stunt. Also he doesn’t need popularity because he’s famous already? I don’t understand it and it’s really throwing me off. I don’t understand the reason for him kissing this girl in public.

Hi, darling. I think what you have to realize is, first of all, so much of the world is grossly homophobic. And so much of Harry’s image is built on him being a sexual fantasy. So, no matter how many people think he’s queer, there are still more (or at least a lot) who think he isn’t, and he/his team/his label aren’t ready to lose any of them.

So, they’re going to keep his sexuality ambiguous for those who don’t want to look beyond the surface.

Second, yes, he’s already very famous. But fame and success isn’t a once and done kind of thing. Celebrities always have to have something going on in order to keep them in the public eye. But especially if they’re about to have a new project. I’d guess HS4 is coming sooner, rather than later. Having him show up at one of the biggest festivals in the world, and then articles about him making out with some woman, is a very easy way to get people talking about him.

So, he’s going to have a reason to “stunt” for as long as he wants to continue being in the public eye and for as long as he’s not making a definitive statement about his sexuality or showing the world who his real partner is. As annoying as that sounds, I think that’s how it is.

I think, too, that you have to look at it differently than “they have a contract that forces them to do these things.” Yes, I do think they’re more in control. But they’re also operating within a system that, to an extent, dictates their behavior. They might not want to do PR relationships, but they also know they’re fairly easy and effective ways of keeping themselves in the press (which is necessary for them in their industry), and keeping their closets in tact, at least as far as the world outside of a certain part of fandom is concerned.

IMO, the only way to be okay with what they do, is to let go of needing a certain outcome. Don’t get yourself get hung up on them coming out, then claiming each other, them being a certain sexuality, etc etc. Enjoy their music, enjoy the parts of themselves they show us, enjoy your friends here… and roll with the idiotic parts of the music industry. They clearly both still want to be successful within it. And that means having to play some stupid games.

I hope this is a bit helpful. ❤️

[farfromharry]

The Mario Kart Championships

Summary: Every Christmas the Norris siblings take part in a Mario Kart Championship. This year they have a rookie joining them who happens to be an exceptional player. In other words, how Oscar ruined Christmas…

Oscar Piastri x Norris!Reader

w/c 2484

a/n inspired by the sonic video mclaren posted. idek what this is but it was fun so 🤷‍♀️

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The hardest thing for Oscar to adjust to when integrating into the Norris family was just how competitive they were. There were 5 siblings, all rather close in age, who had grown up competing with one another. It was in their blood.

Y/N had warned him before he came home for Christmas. Every Christmas without fail, they held the Norris sibling annual Mario Kart Championships. The middle child was currently the reigning champ 3 years running. She intended to keep her streak going. Lando was going to make sure that didn’t happen if it killed him. For at least a month he had been shit talking, adamant he was going to take the trophy this year. The trophy being a horrible homemade thing Flo had made when she was 8.

Oscar was moving in silence, but he too was planning to dethrone Y/N; take the glory away from his own girlfriend.

Their flight was long. Straight after the season ended, Oscar and Y/N had flown to Australia to have somewhat of an early Christmas with his family. It was nice, a needed break after such a long season. Plus, he always enjoyed spending time with his family seeing as he didn’t get to do it often. Then after 2 weeks down under, they headed over to Somerset to spend the remaining holidays with the Norris’.

It was a slight shock to the system, going from such a hot Christmas to such a cold one, but at least it was cosy.

The trash talking started almost immediately. Y/N was the last sibling to arrive, so she had missed a good portion of it. Almost all of it was aimed towards her now, and the newbie.

“Hope you brought the trophy back because that’s mine this year.”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish, mate.”

Lando was just about to open his mouth again when their mum called for them to be quiet. It was clear how much they wanted to get things started as soon as they walked through the door, but as per Cisca’s rules, they had to at least spend an hour or 2 with their parents before they let the games begin. The anticipation was killing them.

Usually she would try to spend as much time with them as she could considering how little she saw some of them during the year, but they were quickly getting on her nerves. Within an hour she’d had enough. “Okay, go play your stupid game.”

There was a chorus of cheers. The eldest and the youngest rushing to set it up. Lando kissed his mother’s cheek dramatically. “Thank you, love you!” And then he was gone from sight too. Oscar watched them all scurry away in disbelief. He didn’t believe Y/N when she had said this whole thing was very serious.

“It’s game time, Piastri.”

The older woman rolled her eyes, giving Oscar a look that said she pitied him. “Good luck.”

Things moved fast. Faster than he anticipated. Oscar and Cisca were up first. They selected their characters, modified their cars, picked the tracks and then they were off. It was best of 3. Most points wins and moves onto the next stage.

Sort of as expected, Oscar won. A clean victory. All 3 games were his to win and poor Cisca was left pouting, handing her controller over to her sister. The Aussie wasn’t a boasting winner. He congratulated her efforts and shook her hand. Everything a good sportsman should do. But Cisca was still a sore loser. She was the baby after all.

She crawled into Y/N’s arms with a frown, muttering something about her boyfriend being mean. The elder of the 2 just laughed. He was fitting into the family just fine.

Another victory for Oscar meant he would be in the final, with his opponent yet to be decided. This win wasn’t as easy. Flo won the first round in a shocking twist after a rather rude red shell was thrown (she wouldn’t admit it with her). Neither won the 2nd, but Oscar placed better, evening out the playing field a little. But in the end he won the final race after she struggled, securing his overall win. He was starting to see why they all enjoyed this so much. He definitely expected more arguments though. Him and his sisters would have been scrapping on the floor by now.

Ollie and Lando were up next. Only due to an intense match of rock, paper, scissors between Y/N and the oldest to see who would race Lando.

When she lost she huffed. “Next time, Norris.” And that could be taken as a threat.

Irritatingly. Lando won all 3 rounds against his brother. It only inflated his ego more. They had all really thought Ollie would have put up more of a fight. He certainly wasn’t happy about having lost. “Fucking rigged,” he muttered.

Then it was the round she had been waiting for. Her vs Lando. She was out for blood.

“You’re going down.”

He did nothing but hold up a middle finger in her direction. If only their mother could see. He would be disqualified immediately.

They picked their characters. The same ones they’d had since they started this Championship back in 2010. Lando as Koopa Troopa. Y/N as Princess Peach. This was a match that usually ended in tears for someone.

Lando held out his hand to shake hers. A ‘promise’ to race clean. Only when she went to place her hand in his, he quickly ripped it away. It was something he would do as a child and clearly he had never grown out of the habit. She rolled her eyes. Even after all these years, when she would probably consider them friends, he still managed to get under her skin. He might be a world famous athlete, but he was always an annoying older brother first.

There was a chorus of ‘oo’ and then a quick pep talk from Oscar. “You got this, baby.” He squeezed her shoulders and she let out a breath. She was gonna kick his ass.

Round 1 was neck and neck. Full of nudging, thrown shells and muttered insults. In the end they came first and second, with Y/N just coming out on top. It was a wonder they hadn’t crossed the line at the same time with how close together they were.

Round 2 was much of the same. Until Lando got a sudden lead out of nowhere. She wasn’t happy, understandably. She had a reputation to uphold. A blue shell fell into her hands at just the right time.

The evil smile on her face was seen by Oscar first, who then nudged the youngest Norris beside him.

“Uh oh. You’re in trouble, Lan.”

The briefest of glances towards his sister was his downfall. As was the shell she fired towards him that slowed him down a few seconds. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to allow her an overtake.

She sat up in her seat, beginning to grow excited at the idea of winning a second race in a row. Crossing the line in 1st, with her brother ending in 3rd was a victory like no other.

There was an eye roll from him. He knew there was no chance of him winning now, but he was delusional enough to try anyway.

She was enjoying it far too much. “It’s okay to give up, Lan. You’ll be brave if you just admit defeat.”

The curly-haired man scoffed. “Yeah, not a chance.” He pressed play on round 3 before she even had a chance to laugh.

This round, he wanted to win. One win was better than none. He was going to do everything in his power to get that win. At one point his methods included reaching over and shoving the controller in her hand. Understandably she almost dropped it. Which apparently justified her standing on his foot.

Their referee stepped in at that point. Playing dirty had been banned in the Championship for years now. A particularly nasty incident during Christmas ‘14, saw Y/N with a couple broken fingers and Lando with a concussion after an angry tussle. Their mother had stepped in at that point and insisted either they played clean and safe or she was putting an end to it entirely.

“Hey, no out of game sabotage. You know the rules.” Ollie sounded very ‘oldest sibling’ right now.

The only current finalist found it rather amusing that there was a whole set of rules they must have laid out at some point, probably after far too much cheating. Lando was a big culprit. He didn’t even need confirmation, he just knew.

It felt like only seconds before she was winning the 3rd race. She felt nothing but pure joy. What feeling was better than beating your sibling at something?

“Lost again, Lando!” She was overjoyed. He might be a world class, full time racing driver, but he was so shitty at Mario Kart that his baby sister could beat him and that was all that mattered to her. “How many years in a row is that now?” She held her hand up to her ear in wait.

The man grumbled. Cisca wasn’t the only sore loser in the family. “Whatever. You’ve still got to go against Osc yet.”

Her gaze fell to her boyfriend, who was just getting up to take his teammate’s place in the hot seat. “I’ll go easy on you, lover boy.” Her win streak had her feeling extra cocky.

Oscar didn’t say anything, just smiled and sat up a little straighter. That should have been a sign. He wasn’t going easy on her. This was the final. He was in it to win it. That trophy was going to be his.

And he didn’t even break a sweat. His demeanor remained calm. Unbothered. Meanwhile Y/N was pouring everything she had into these 3 races. She had beaten Lando with such ease. Yet she couldn’t seem to even worry Oscar. He had too much confidence in his ability. He knew he was going to win. And she was probably never going to let him play this game with her again.

3 races. 3 wins. An overall winner.

Oscar Piastri had just won the Norris sibling Mario Kart Championship upon his debut.

He tossed the controller onto the couch and threw his arms up in the air. ”Ha! Yeah. Suck it, loser.”

All 5 of the siblings stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes. They had never seen Oscar so expressive. All because he was rubbing his win in his girlfriend’s face. The whole time he hadn’t said much. Had played fair, hadn’t trash talked, congratulated those he beat regardless. It was all coming out now. Clearly he had cared more than he let on. No one really knew what to say.

It wasn’t until he realised all the attention was on him that he stopped. His cheeks flamed and he sort of shrank in on himself.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He sat back down, shuffling awkwardly in the silence. If only the ground would swallow him up so he didn’t have to keep living this moment. Time travel would be the only thing that could save him from this embarrassment.

Lando was the first one to break the silence, laughing loudly. Everyone else jumped at the sheer volume of it. “That was brilliant.” He didn’t know if he was happier because Oscar had finally gotten lost in the moment instead of his head. Or because someone had brought his sister’s reign to an end. Dethroning her himself would have been more satisfying, but at least it was done. Her trust had been betrayed by someone she loved. It was evil but it was amazing at the same time. “You sure told her, mate.”

“I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

The damage was done in Y/N’s eyes. Not only had he stolen her trophy and title, but he had rubbed it in too. She thought he loved her.

She said nothing, just got up and left the room. The siblings had seen all of this before. If he thought Lando and Cisca were sore losers, he had another thing coming with her.

He turned to them with a desperate look in his eyes. “What do I do?”

Lando patted his back. “Nothing. You’re fucked.”

There were nods from other parts of the room. “I’d consider yourself single now.”

By the time they went to bed that night, Y/N still hadn’t said a word to him. He was outright terrified.

Laid in bed, side by side, he found himself missing her touch, their closeness. He wanted her in his arms. He wanted to talk mindlessly about anything that came to mind. The silence was killing him. What else was he meant to do?

“I said I’m sorry.”

She grumbled, shrugging off the affection. Now that the embarrassment had died down, he could see the funny side to it. He never knew she was such a sore loser. He grinned, nosing at her cheek as he silently asked for a kiss. There was zero chance he was getting one.

A sigh, followed by more silence. Oscar couldn’t believe how seriously she was taking this defeat. The handmade trophy sitting on her desk, not for her this time, definitely wasn’t helping the situation.

There was no way he was letting her fall asleep while she was still angry at him. His only other option was to be so annoying that she physically couldn’t ignore him. So he climbed on top of her, putting almost all of his bodyweight onto her.

She huffed. “Get off.”

She might be stubborn, but he could be just as bad. “Nope. Not until you talk to me, or forgive me.”

With a big exhale, she turned on her back. Her eyes darted to him with somewhat of a glare. “You cheated. I can’t forgive a cheater.”

“At Mario Kart?” Oscar scoffed. “I did not cheat.” He knew that for a fact. She just didn’t want to admit he had been better. “I won fair and square.”

This side of Y/N was new to him, but he knew he was going to enjoy bringing it out of her more often. Much like her brother did.

“Fucking child racing prodigy,” she mumbled.

Oscar laughed loudly. A full, belly laugh. Some people might find such competitive behaviour annoying, but it only made her more attractive to him. He adored every inch of her. “Oh, I love you.” Sometimes it was overwhelming.

Her eyes rolled. “Whatever.”

She was still so bothered that it made him chuckle. “Love you.” His voice was louder this time. More amused. There was a smile creeping onto her face that she was desperately trying to stop.

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[soelstress]

Ice And Easy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Summary: Bucky is not a fan of cold things. Let’s see if we can change his mind…

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI , nsfw , oral sex (m receiving) , ice play , Bucky being hot stuff (menace!)

Word count: 3.1k

A/N - Hello lovelies! My offering for Tasty Tuesday… though I think today should be Toasty Tuesday 🥵 Hope you’re all keeping cool and hydrated! I wrote this early last year after inspiration struck. It’s a bit long winded so I apologise… but I hope you enjoy. Not sure if it’ll cool you down or heat you up 😅

A big big thank you to the beautiful @sunday-bug for listening to my rambling and telling me this isn’t total nonsense.

Dividers by the amazing @firefly-graphics

The pic is sourced from google.

Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work

Bucky hated the cold. Honestly, could you blame him? After his fall from the train in the Austrian Alps he spent an unknown amount of time in the frigid temperatures before Hydra found him. At first the main source of discomfort came from his injured left arm. But exposure to the brutal conditions soon meant every part of him was aching in pain from the biting iciness. Not to mention the countless decades of Hydra subjecting him to cryo storage between missions as the Winter Soldier. The agony caused by the cold was a memory he dreaded and would soon rather forget. Though the Super Soldier Serum running through his veins ensured his temperature ran warmer than the average person he took every precaution to reduce any chance of the slightest chill invading his body.

Bucky baulked at the thought of the winter weather but ventured out with you knowing you loved to take pictures and make memories while walking through snow. When he bundled you both in more layers than necessary you sighed but took his thickly mittened hand in your own now deformed hand through two pairs of gloves. A wink had to suffice for communication as only your eyes were visible between a hat, two scarves and a high neck padded coat. You were very understanding of your boyfriend's hatred of the cold and therefore patiently endured most of his measures. However there were some actions that you did protest.

During the summer Bucky was not a fan of air conditioning. He didn’t like going to bed warm and waking up cold so refused to have it on most of the time. This dilemma was solved by investing in a mattress and bedding with cooling properties. You also invested in a cooling gel pad for your pillow. Bucky grumbled about this but stopped when he realised it would help both of you sleep better.

The air con argument was resurrected during an intense heatwave. It came to a peak after two restless nights of tossing and turning. You loved Bucky but the man was a goddamn furnace and it was too hot to even blink near each other let alone share a bed. First you said that the air con was necessary to lower the temperature if he wanted to sleep in the same bed. Bucky argued that he could just stay to his side of the bed, an argument you refuted by saying even the highest mountain of pillows couldn’t keep him from cuddling you. Finally you threatened to sleep alone elsewhere because you weren’t going to suffer heat stroke from sultry Sergeant Snuggles. Mumbles conceding his defeat filled the air though his trademark scowl was ruined by his mouth twitching at the name you’d given him.

Despite all this there had been one time so far in your relationship where Bucky had actually seemed to enjoy the cold.

When the two of you first started dating he had confided that he loved space and had a desire to see the Northern Lights. Knowing the location and not wanting the cold to negatively impact what should be an amazing experience, the topic was discussed thoroughly. You surprised him with a trip to spend Valentine's Day in Norway. Excited to see the famous phenomenon Bucky had braved the cold with remarkable tolerance. You were nervous and desperately hoped that the Lights would override any thought of the cold. And at the top of a mountain in Norway your wish came true. The colours danced across the black sky reflected in Bucky’s awestruck eyes with any thoughts of the cold banished.

Later back at the lodge you were both settling in for bed when the beautiful lights appeared in the sky again. You quickly threw on a coat and boots over your flannel pajamas, grabbed a gadget that Tony had given you for this trip and dashed outside. Pressing record you watched the kaleidoscope of colours shimmering. When Bucky pulled you into his toasty embrace you surrendered to the beauty of the moment. After a few minutes he gently tugged you back inside. His cheeks and nose were slightly flushed from the cold, blue eyes warm and sparkling as he thanked you for an unforgettable experience.

Your lips met soft and sweet at first but his kiss turned hungry and you found yourself reciprocating eagerly. His hands clutched your hips bringing you closer so you could feel his cock between your bodies. Without thinking you reached under the waistband of his pajamas for the silky flesh which was scorching to the touch. A shudder ran through him and you suddenly realised why he felt so hot. Your hands were cold. He caught your hand as you pulled out from the material. His body trembled slightly as he started to guide your hand back to its prior position.

“Bucky, my hands are cold.”

“Do you hear me complaining?” His dark eyes never left yours, blazing with desire as he answered your gentle protest. “Well then, let me warm them up baby.”

At the deep rumble you allowed him to place your hand back on his blazing flesh. Within no time your hands were warm and Bucky was sweating with pleasure. He definitely didn’t complain though there was a lot of moaning from both of you.

A few weeks later in your shared New York apartment you were reminiscing about his reaction to your cold hands. Your mind wandered, thinking about what else he may enjoy when an idea came to mind.

That afternoon you knelt on your bed wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. Bucky sat with his shirtless back to you. Your fingers worshipped and manipulated the muscles of his torso. There were odd moans of appreciation as he relaxed under your ministrations. After a while your digits glided up his neck to his scalp. Bucky purred as you gently tugged his hair and scratched along his scalp. He loved when you played with his hair.

Leaning forward your lips brushed his ear. “I want to try something baby.” Warm blue eyes met yours as he turned his head. “Just one try and if you don’t like it we can do something else or stop entirely.” He nodded with a small smile gracing his lips. “Do you want me to tell you what I have in mind?”

Shaking his head he brushed his nose along yours. “I trust you baby.”

The four words flooded you with love and longing. He trusted you so much… he trusted you…

Suddenly you were overwhelmed with the doubts and worries you’d been battling since you had this idea. What if he was uncomfortable? What if he hated it but only carried on for your sake? What if he hated it - hated you for trying to push him into something?

His hands cupped your face and caused your focus to return to him. “Breathe, toots. It’s ok.” He took a few deep breaths to lead you and relaxed when you did. “I don’t know what you have in mind and I don’t want you to tell me. But I do know you’d never hurt me on purpose. I trust you. I love you.”

Straddling his lap you pressed lingering kisses to his forehead, his nose, on the apple of each cheek. Your fingers danced through his short dark hair and pulled so his head tilted back with his throat exposed. He moaned and squirmed slightly under you. Prickly stubble tickled as you kissed along one side of his jawline before nipping his chin and working your way up the other side. When you pulled back his eyes had darkened with desire.

“I need to get something baby. Can you lay back and close your eyes for me?”

Without question he did so. Carefully climbing off his lap you made your way through to the kitchen. The tray you’d prepared and hidden earlier was ready. Quietly opening the freezer you took out the paper plate with crushed ice on before adding it to the tray. Walking back into the bedroom you took a moment to observe Bucky. Though his hands flexed restlessly by his side his eyes were still closed. As you approached his breathing rate increased. At the sight of the obvious tent in his gray sweats your mouth watered. After setting the tray down on your bedside table you reached for an eye mask and two ribbons.

“We’re gonna use the traffic light system honey. You know the colours?”

“Yes baby.”

“And what’s your safe word?”

“Brooklyn.”

Happy with his answers you decided to proceed. Neither of you had ever used any colour except green and never had to use your safe words but you were aware this could very well change. Bucky said he didn’t want to know the details of what you were going to do but just for reassurance you offered a small tidbit.

“For this first part I want to restrain your hands and blindfold you. Ok?”

He murmured his assent and lifted his head when he felt the eye mask being placed over his eyes. Cautiously you looped the ribbon around one wrist and moved his arm so it rested on the pillow above his head before tying the ribbon to the bed frame. You did the same with his other wrist. Bucky could rip them off with laughable ease but you wanted the ability to remove them quickly so a pair of scissors was placed within easy reach. Straddling his waist again you reached for a plastic cup filled with Old Fashioned and took a small sip. The alcohol warmed you instantly. Tracing his lips with your tongue you dipped inside when he granted you entry. Leaning back you took a small mouthful of the drink and kissed him while carefully pouring the liquid into his mouth. At the taste of his favourite cocktail he hummed. The alcohol didn’t affect him but he loved the taste. You fed him one more mouthful before moving.

Placing your hands on either side of his head you leant down. Breathing softly so he could feel the small puffs of cool air you gently licked the shell of his left ear before taking the lobe into your mouth and sucked before nipping it. Bucky wriggled beneath you. You kissed, licked, nipped and sucked a trail down his neck and bit gently into the crook. Moving down the centre of his chest you focused on the surrounding area of his right nipple. As your tongue swirled around it peaked before you licked it. Taking it in your mouth you suckled and used one hand to toy with the neglected nipple. Bucky squirmed under you while moaning softly. Your tongue traced over the soft lines of his abs laving a wet path down over the ridges through the smattering of hair that formed his happy trail before reaching his navel. Nipped the taut flesh in a few places you heard him curse and soothed the bites with kisses while smirking.

Reaching the waistband of his sweats you slowly peeled them down and was thrilled to find he wasn’t wearing underwear. When pushed down far enough Bucky kicked them off. His cock was released and slapped onto his navel. Your nails scratched down his thick thighs which tensed under your touch. Carefully settling between his legs you placed open mouth kisses all over his smooth velvety balls. Bucky jerked as his hips thrusted up. You smiled as your tongue ran up the length of his shaft while avoiding the tip. Hips thrusting up again he whined. You gave it the softest lick, loving the taste of his precum in your mouth.

“Baby you taste so good.”

At the praise his cock twitched almost pleadingly. Shifting you slowly climbed back up his body and took care to avoid your skin touching his. Leaning over his torso you reached for the scissors.

“I’m going to untie you for this next part and uncover your eyes. You can touch me or open your eyes if you want to.”

After carefully cutting his wrists free and checking there were no marks left behind you removed the eye mask but Bucky kept his eyes closed. At the sight you couldn’t help smiling. Bucky was never one to back down from a challenge. Once again you reached for the cup of Old Fashioned and fed Bucky another two mouthfuls which caused him to moan in delight and smile. At his sounds of pleasure once again nerves plagued your mind.

“Sweetheart?”

Shit. Of course his Super Soldier hearing would detect the seemingly deafening drumbeat of your heart.

Inhaling deeply you took a moment to try and ground yourself. “Remind me once more of your safe word baby.”

A frown marred his brow, forehead puckered in confusion. “Brooklyn.”

Still his eyes remain closed. Desperate you took one sip of the cocktail and felt the warmth of the alcohol burn your veins. Calm settled over you as Bucky’s hands ghosted down to gently squeeze your thighs once before resting them behind his head. Reaching for a small ice shard on the plate you rested it on your tongue so Bucky couldn’t hear it against your teeth as it melted.

This time you moved to his right ear and slowly licked it before moving to the lobe to suck and nibble as before pausing when he shivered slightly at the cold touch. He made no sound or other reaction so you reached for another shard continuing the teasing trail down his neck with chilled lips. He moaned softly and squirmed.

“Colour baby?”

“Green.” Bucky gripped his pillow with his eyes closed and panting heavily.

Grabbing another two pieces of ice, your lips trailed down his chest to his left nipple. Carefully you grazed the ice shards over both nipples which hardened immediately. Putting one piece in your mouth you continued to brush the other over his right nipple while you sucked the left into your chilled mouth. He inhaled with a sharp hiss as his hands fisted in the bedsheets. Apart from the reassuring squeeze he hadn’t touched you or opened his eyes yet. You took your time kissing down his chest and past his navel, your mouth and tongue warming as you go.

Delicately you used one hand to cup and massage his balls and the other to pop another piece of ice in your mouth. Leaning down you took one ball into your mouth. Bucky cried out but didn't say a colour or his safeword. Opening your mouth wide you sucked his other ball in your mouth and trapped the remaining ice piece between your tongue and his sac. As you flexed your tongue the cold was washed over the delicate flesh. Bucky’s hips shifted as he groaned loudly. Letting his sac slip from your mouth you now reached for another cup and took a small mouthful of water which you held as you took hold of his cock. Slowly you slipped the head inside your mouth and felt his cock twitch when it touched the cold liquid.

“Oh fuck!” Bucky's body jolted and his eyes flew open.

With a grin you took him further into your mouth before swallowing carefully and sliding your cold tongue along his cock.

“Baby.” Your answering hum to his pleading whine had him writhing. Slowly dragging back you pulled off with a pop.

“Colour, Sarge?”

“Green. Green. Fuckin’ green.” Glancing up you saw his eyes were melted glaciers among the flush of his cheeks. “Don’t stop.”

His chest rose and fell rapidly as you slowly took a larger mouthful of liquid before plunging your mouth over his cock and taking him to the back of your throat. Bucky swore loudly at the sensation of his cock in your cold mouth ending in the tightness of your throat. Keeping your gaze locked on him you swallowed and moaned. Lost in the pleasure he began to thrust his hips slowly before beginning to fuck your mouth.

“Goddamn babydoll… your mouth feels fuckin’ amazing… I’m gonna come so hard if you keep doing that.”

Desire pooled in your belly at his words and you shifted slightly before you could stop yourself.

“Want me to come for you angel?” When you tried to nod he chuckled. “Use your words honey. What do you want?”

Dragging your tongue along the shaft as you slowly pulled back, your hand continued the torturous pace.

“I wanna taste you, Bucky. Please… I want you to come in my mouth.”

Growling he used one elbow to prop himself up while his other hand cupped your jaw.

“Keep going then baby.” But before you could move to do so he held your face still. “Use the ice” he murmured with a small smile.

Heart swelling you nodded and grabbed another piece of ice. Slipping his length back in your mouth along with the ice you bobbed your head up and down. One hand massaged his sac while the other pumped the base of his length in time with your mouth. His thighs tensed. He was close. You doubled your efforts growing more enthusiastic at the growls and grunts spilling from his mouth.

“Jesus… so close honey… I’m gonna come” he rasped.

The hand cupping your jaw moved to your hair before grabbing it and tugging gently. A whimper escaped your lips and his eyes flashed to yours. You whined again giving a firm suck while running your ice cold tongue against his tip.

“FUCK!”

His hand held you in place as he fucked your mouth, his spend coating your tongue and spilling from your lips. With a final twitch of his cock he sprawled on the bed. Cupping his softening dick you tenderly licked him clean being mindful of the sensitive tip. You licked your lips and sat back on your heels watching Bucky try to catch his breath. When Bucky made grabby hands you went willingly into his embrace where he tugged you onto his chest. He dotted kisses all over your face before placing a tender kiss to your lips. You released a sigh of relief that Bucky seemed to have enjoyed the experience… all the while being unaware he was thinking how to repay the favour.

[22ayla21]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Dan Heng x reader family headcanons or fic? I know in one post you said that, due to Dan Heng's lore and such, he couldn't biologically have a kid, but can maybe adopt or maybe have an inseminated baby, like either by a sperm donor or a person they know and trust? Either way, I just think he would be a good dad and have cute but funny shenanigans, also be a giant bookworm and read the kid stories and such. Also would be a little protective of both his kid and wife.

Under the Dragon's Wing

Trying to leave his past behind, Dan Heng found on the Astral Express not just a home, but also a family: a beloved woman and an adopted son.

From Author: In this fic, I've combined three requests. Screenshots of the other two will be below.

Life aboard the Astral Express was always about movement. Planets whizzed by the windows, Dan Heng delved into new data in the archives, March 7 incessantly clicked her camera, capturing another adventure, Pom-Pom habitually grumbled at Caelus, and Welt and Himeko discussed the route, knowing that every journey changed them. No one could have imagined that one day the Express would become not just a means of transport, but a true home—warm, full of children’s laughter and whispered bedtime stories.

It didn't happen immediately.

They found the boy on a forgotten planet. A dusty, abandoned orphanage where children were more like numbers in reports than living souls. Dan Heng's beloved was the first to notice him. He sat in a corner, clutching a ragged doll, of which only half remained. Dark eyes meticulously followed every movement, but he didn't cry. He didn't call out. He just… watched. Silently, as if he had long understood there was no one to call.

"Name?" The caretaker merely shrugged. "No one gave him one. He… just exists. Has been silent since he was found. Strange, not like the others. As if he understood too much, even before he learned to speak."

The boy sat, huddled, as if trying to become invisible. His thin fingers clutched an old, barely-holding-together doll—the last remnant of something that could once have been called "care." His eyes—large, dark, terrifyingly adult for a child—met Dan Heng's.

And in that moment, time stood still.

Not a single muscle twitched on Dan Heng's face, but inside, everything clenched. His heart, accustomed to restraint, was squeezed by pain and anger. Not fiery anger—no. This was a cold, conscious anger. The kind that makes you make decisions that change destinies.

He approached slowly, without haste, and knelt down. His voice was quiet, but firm, like a promise carved in stone: "I am Dan Heng. And this is my beloved."

He extended his hand. Not intrusively. Just… openly. "You are not alone. Do you want to come with us? Home?"

The boy remained silent. His eyes didn't waver, but something flickered in them—a tiny spark, a faint glimmer of hope. His lips trembled slightly, and his fingers, clutching the doll until his knuckles ached, slowly unclasped. The doll slipped and fell silently to the floor.

He didn't say a word. He simply reached forward and placed his tiny hand in Dan Heng's large, warm hand, and then in his woman's hand.

The answer was clearer than words.

The adoption process took time. The Express crew, upon learning of their decision, didn't ask a single unnecessary question—only offered support, only warmth. Welt and Himeko helped with the legal nuances, and March 7 immediately began brainstorming ideas for decorating the room.

The boy's room appeared next to theirs—with built-in lighting, soft panels, children's toys, and a bookshelf that Dan Heng personally began filling. He sought out the best editions of fairy tales—from Luofu, Jarilo-VI, and even rare translations from the languages of forgotten civilizations.

It wasn't easy for them.

At first, the boy, whom they named Yang Ming, didn't speak. He rarely ate, often woke up at night, and didn't trust easily. He was especially afraid of loud voices. Dan Heng and his beloved, though accustomed to difficulties, found themselves facing a new challenge—parenthood. The responsibility was different, almost sacred.

Initially, Dan Heng was afraid to touch the boy. Not because he didn't want to, but because… he didn't believe he could give enough warmth. But the child, despite everything, reached out to him himself.

"Are you a dragon?" he whispered one day, burying his face in his father's shoulder.

"Yes," he replied, and gently ran his fingers through his hair. "But first of all, I am your dad."

From that day on, Yang Ming would only fall asleep in Dan Heng's embrace, demanding that he read him stories. His favorite was the ancient tale of the Azure Dragon. The boy asked him to tell it again and again, and each time he looked at Dan Heng with admiration, as if he himself were the hero from the legend.

Over time, the boy began to laugh. First shyly, then loudly. He ran around the carriage, chased March 7th and Pom-Pom, made paper ships with Caelus, and confidently asked Himeko for another pastry in the dining car. Welt (like a true grandpa) lectured him on history, and then cut out a cardboard model of the Express that he himself had drawn.

When mom and dad wanted to be alone—even just to drink tea and hug in silence—their friends happily took Yang Ming under their wing. No one grumbled. On the contrary, it seemed everyone felt part of something bigger. A family.

Dan Heng and his beloved themselves changed. Before, he could sit in the archives for hours, forgetting to eat or sleep. Now, time spent with his son became more important than any ancient manuscripts or data. He learned to comb hair, fix broken toys, and even once put on a show with cardboard decorations, where he himself played a mischievous wind spirit (March 7, giggling, filmed it from around the corner).

He didn't stop being a protector. But now his water, his wind, his spear—everything was for the sake of his family. For them, he would fight any monster, would return even from the farthest stars.

"Are you afraid of anything, Dad?" Yang Ming asked one day, sitting on his lap.

"Only one thing," Dan Heng replied, and looked at his beloved sitting beside him. "Losing what I love."

The boy hugged his neck tighter. "Me too."

One evening, when even more stars than usual were visible outside the Astral Express's windows, and the scent of cocoa hung in the air, the crew gathered around the large round table.

Yang Ming, covered in confetti and wearing a wreath of artificial flowers, danced joyfully, celebrating the anniversary of his "family day."

"This is better than a birthday!" he shouted happily. "Because on this day, I found Mom and Dad!"

And truly—it was the day his heart found a home.

And Dan Heng… he quietly watched his beloved and son, his gaze soft, full of tenderness and peace.

He knew he had made many mistakes. That in the past, he was one who brought storms. But here, in this present, he had become one who brought light.

A dragon reading bedtime stories to his son. A guardian protecting his family. A man who had found the right to be happy.

And though the stars changed outside the window, one shone brightest in his heart. The one called home.