#it was fun to try and make this convincing

[mangled-by-disuse]

It feels much of a muchness with BookTok drama about book reviewers saying they only read dialogue, or that they read the first and last sentence on each page to get through the book quicker, or that they regularly skip entire chapters of a book they've never read before?

And not to bang on about my pet theory but I think it's a result of the capitalistic philosophy of infinite growth being applied to everything, including and especially people. The point is not to read and enjoy classic literature. The point is to become a Widely-Read Person whose "books read" list at the end of each year is sufficiently impressive, and to self-improve.

Because, no, the point isn't to read and interpret it. The point is that you can join in on the exclusive club of Getting The Smart Reference, and that through some inherent transient property of Good Art, consuming it by any means will make you a Better Person.

what is HAPPENING

[mggslover]

‘spencer’s “first” time showing you his jealous/possessive side’. bau reader and spencer just started dating and are a bit reserved when it comes to showing affection in the office. a new agent starts flirting/trying to get readers attention and for the first time spencer make sure everyone knows who his girl friend is <3 thank you !!!

the first time spencer gets jealous genre: fluff word count: 965 a/n: oh how i love this prompt!! thanks for the request

Spencer Reid wasn’t big on PDA, so it didn’t surprise you when he suggested keeping your relationship under wraps once it became official. You didn’t mind much—sure, it was a little frustrating when he’d pat your hand away at the round table or create distance the morning after a particularly fun night, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you—but in general, you were glad to keep things private. You had no problem avoiding the “no dating between coworkers” policy drama, and it gave you the opportunity to focus on the cases and enjoy Spencer’s company even more when you’d sneak off home together at the end of the day. 

So, when you found yourself chatting with the new addition to the team—Agent Owen Rogers—you didn’t expect the effect it would have on your boyfriend.

“Of course he’s taken an interest in her. That woman makes everyone fall head over heels,” Penelope half-sighed, her voice a mix of awe and envy as she watched you talk to Owen from the office window. Her words caught Spencer’s attention, and he turned to the scene, spotting you mid-conversation. He recognized the looks his colleagues were giving Owen—those same dreamy, admiring glances they'd had for Hotch’s brother whenever he visited the office.

Spencer’s posture stiffened as the understanding sank in. If he were being honest, he’d liked the new agent when they first met, but now, seeing the way Owen was smirking at you as he moved closer, that initial fondness had quickly morphed into distaste. He could still hear his colleagues gushing over the agent as he quickly got up and headed down the stairs toward you.

“So, I was thinking Italian? Do you like Italian?” Owen asked, his voice upbeat.

Before you could even open your mouth to turn him down, you felt the familiar warmth of your boyfriend’s arms wrapping around your waist, his head resting on your shoulder.

“We love Italian.”.

You stood there, completely bewildered, as your boyfriend not only inserted himself into the conversation but also made the boldest display of possessiveness, wrapping his arms around you without a second thought. It was so un-Spencer-like—especially in the office—but you weren’t about to complain, your hands instinctively resting over his arms.

“Actually, Owen—I can call you Owen, right?” He doesn’t wait for confirmation before continuing. “You know, it’s fascinating how often people pick Italian food for a first date. Objectively, it’s a terrible choice. Think about it: you’ve got these long, slippery noodles—spaghetti, for instance—that are practically designed to humiliate you. The odds of splattering marinara sauce all over yourself—or worse, your date—are alarmingly high. And then there’s the garlic. People convince themselves that a mint will magically erase it, but we both know that’s just a delusion. Why anyone still thinks it’s a good idea is beyond me. Kind of stupid, don’t you think?”

You bit your lip, struggling to suppress your laughter as Owen’s face crumpled. You truly felt sorry for the poor thing—he really was a nice guy—but seeing Spencer get this sassy, especially when it was all because of you, was strangely entertaining.

“I—uh, yeah.” Owen gives a nervous laugh, his fingers awkwardly brushing the back of his neck. “Pretty stupid.”

“But we’d love to have Italian food with you! Right, baby?” Spencer gives your waist a subtle squeeze, his silent cue for you to play along.

You cough slightly, trying to cover your laugh. “Right! Yes, totally—Italian sounds great.”

“Yeah, that’s cool, guys. But, uh, now that I think about it, I’m swamped. You know, being a new agent and everything.” Roger’s voice wavers just enough to betray his weak excuse.

“So unfortunate. Maybe another time,” Spencer replied smoothly. Owen nodded stiffly, forcing a tight smile before quickly walking off.

You scoffed a laugh as Owen disappeared down the bullpen, the shock still lingering. You turned to Spencer, your eyes wide in disbelief.

“What in the world has gotten into that pretty head of yours?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a little, suddenly aware of how much of a spectacle he had just made in the middle of the office.

“He was asking you out,” he said quietly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You chuckled, reaching up to adjust his collar. “And I was just about to say no.”

His arms found their way back around your waist, leaning into your touch as if he’d forgotten where he was. His eyes flickered from your hands to your face, his expression softening. “I know you were. But he should know not to ask you.”

You smiled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, amused by how the man who’s so intent on keeping your relationship discreet in public is now letting his clingy nature shine through.

“You know he can’t smell that I’m taken, right?” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Well, maybe we should change that,” Spencer whispered, his voice low as he leaned in, his face brushing against your neck, causing you to giggle.

Unbeknownst to you, the whole team had quietly tiptoed their way down the stairs, and gathered around on the other side of the bullpen. They stood there, wide-eyed, like they were watching an episode of their favorite drama.

“Derek… Am I seeing this right?” Garcia whispered, voice dripping with curiosity as she watched Spencer's face disappear into your neck.

Morgan’s chuckle echoed through the bullpen. “Oh yes, babygirl. You’re seeing it just right.”

Spencer’s grip on you tightened as he sensed the peering eyes, but instead of discomfort, he radiated a quiet pride. He wasn’t hiding anymore—he was proud of what you shared, proud to be yours, and for you to be his, and he wanted the world to know it.

[luckthebard]

I’m seeing a lot of people assuming that critique along the lines of “I don’t think this narrative is cohering and I’m increasingly convinced the story won’t stick the landing” ALSO means “I’m hate watching this and not enjoying anything”

Like nah man I’m still really enjoying the D&D parts. The combat has been fun. The above table interactions between the cast are still what I’ve always loved about the show.

If, what is in the end a pretty mild and not mean-spirited analytical exploration of what is not working on a story level makes this many people go into strawman-creating defense mode, I feel like we have a real problem within Actual Play fandom of allowing narrative, literary, or media critique to have space. People are defending what they think the story is saying but not acknowledging that the critique isn’t even about the thematic content necessarily but how well the story managed to coherently deliver those themes and if it succeeded. And tbh I’ve seen this before with how some people in the D20 fandom reacted to very reasonable story critique of NeverAfter and Burrow’s End (that the stories felt overstuffed with too many ideas and not internally coherent, among others), so I’m sure it’s not a solely a CR thing.

But it really is interesting how fandom spaces don’t seem to know how to react to structural/narrative critique of improv beyond trying to claim that improv can’t be critiqued for structure and arcs. I think we need to push back against that idea, because not allowing critique of an art form is essentially not allowing it to fully be art. And there are plenty of examples in actual play of improvised stories doing narrative and themes with more intention and success, including in CR itself, so it’s not impossible. It is not “hater” behavior to muse on why a story isn’t sticking the landing.

[islandheartprincess]

bully!rafe ༚⁠ᵕ˖⁠♡ pt. 3

part 1 ✧ part 2 ✧ part 3

‧₊˚ ⋅ summary: he wasn't your boyfriend, why did he get so pissed seeing you talk to another guy. you put him in his place, but not long before he reminds you why you can't forget him

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ pairing: bully!rafe x sassy reader

୨ৎ .ᐟ a/n: ik this was long awaited, drk know how I feel ab this 1, feedback highly appreciated!

‧₊˚ ⋅ c!w: swearing, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex, reader is that bitch, switch sub & dom, reader makes fun of rafe, name calling

in an attempt to get your mind off things, especially about your last encounter with rafe, you found yourself out and about with your friends.

you guys spent a whole day having fun, ending your day at some nice little food spot that most kildare teenagers you knew hung out at. it was until your day took a turn when you were reminded of your actions from last week.

it's not like you exactly regretted what happened, quite the opposite. being stuck in a state of disbelief, you were still struggling to process what even happened.

yet everytime you saw rafe, it was like it never happened. you still saw him acting as the same playboy flirt as always, the same dickhead.

for rafe, he knew that one encounter wouldn't satisfy his need for you. being the man he is, he tried to shut you out. when fucking some girl he couldn't remember the name of, it was your face he was picturing. and, your name he moaned on accident.

he also knew you seeing him with random girls wouldn't sit well with you. convincing himself, how the poor girl you are, you would just sit there and wait until he came back to you. you weren't pathetic like he was, he should've known better.

so when you saw his face, it almost felt as though the people around you disappeared. your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly regained control of yourself, and came back to reality. turning back to your friends, laughing and returning to the conversation.

no, he wasn't disappointed in your underwhelming reaction, was he? hm, trying to play cool, that must've been your plan. not for long though, he was determined on getting back your attention.

rafe was seated down with his friends, hoping nobody would notice his odd behavior. his eyes were on you, pretentiously watching and waiting until your gaze landed on him. you couldn't have appeared more unaware and unbothered, it was like he wasn't even there!

"hellloooo? you there bro?" he was snapped out of his trance by toppers hand waving in front of his eyes. he honestly forgot there were other people around him, "huh? yeah- uh, what?" his friends around him snickered, "dude, did you even hear anything we were talking about?" topper continued.

"nah man, he was too busy staring at those chicks over there." kelce teased, tilting his head in your direction. your friends noticed their stares, nudging eachother with giggles.

"really guys? ignore them! there total losers...." you shunned the girls around you, with a pout on your lips. one of the girls continued her giggling, "kelce is like, so cute tho! i really hope they come over here!!"

that would be your last wish. there is no way you'd want rafe Cameron and his stuck-up friends to come over here. rafe, ugh, he would just look at you, thinking of some snarky comment to say. with his annoying, stupid, gorgeous, soft, lips. huh?

their swooning quickly settled over. "im gonna go order a snack or something" you mumbled to your friends. you stood up, and made your way over to order. you took notice to the familiar cute taller boy standing next to you, waiting on an order. perhaps you'd seen him in one of your classes before

for some reason, you felt a little confident today. wanting to spark up a conversation, you turned your head over to him. "hey, i think I've seen you before?" he looked to you, before his lips quickly raised into a smile. "yeah, you go to [school name] too! i think we have some classes together!" his face lit up, as you two conversed getting to know each other a little.

he flirted a little, you flirted back, and before he picked up his order, he gave you his number. unbeknownst to you, rafe was watching you the whole time. he felt his fists tighten into a ball, feeling furious as he watched the boy smile at you.

who the fuck was he to be talking to you like that? and who the fuck were you to be whoring yourself out to him. it was just a conversation, right, but he thought he made it clear, you were his.

rafe quickly stood up when he saw you headed toward the bathroom, "gotta piss guys," he said quickly departing from his table.

he jogged a little to catch up to you, grabbing your arm and pushing you into the bathroom.

you gasped, ready to scream at the sudden ambush, but rafe quickly slapped his hand onto your mouth. when you saw it was him, you were a little relieved. then you remembered it was rafe cameron, and returned to your state of panic.

"did you forget what I told you? hm? last time in the hallway?" his voice was highlighted with fury, your mind quickly pinning what he was talking about. the memory replaying "you're only my slut, kay?" his voice echoing in your head. you shoved his hand off you, catching your breath.

"what the fuck, rafe? are you insane?" panting, thinking that he truly must've lost it. "holy, we literally just talked, that's it." you shouldn't have been defending yourself, he had no right to an answer. he looked at you with confusion, placing his hands behind his head.

"y-you just talked? really, so, you didnt get his number or anything." you couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth "if i did is that your business? are you stalking me or something?" you shoved him backwards, making him stumble and continued your rant.

"also, i don't remember you being my boyfriend or anything. you've also been having fun with your fair share of chicks isn't that right?" he went silent, anger fueling up.

"nothing to say now? c'mon you had a lot to say to me before, fucking dragging me into a bathroom." rafe opened his mouth, trying to find the right words but just ending up stuttering in his fake confidence

"right, how could I forget, you're just a pussy. always will be." laughing in his face, watching the way his lip quivered very seemingly furious. "don't fucking call me a pussy. 'm not a pussy." his fists balled at his side.

"mmm, no i think you are baby. too pussy to talk to me normally, too pussy to ask me out, too pussy to fuck me?" the way you spoke made him almost forget he was supposed to be in control.

rafe finally grabbed you, eager to shut you up. you yelped and knew you were gonna get what you wanted. he slammed you over onto the sink of the bathroom, roughly grabbing your ass. "god, y'just don't know when to stop talking." he groaned into your ear while unbuckling his pants.

you bit your lip, hiding a giggle. he pulled down your pants, and harshly slapped your ass. "fuck, that hurts!" you squeaked, but he barely heard you. "it hurts? im gonna make you hurt a lot worse sweetheart."

it was almost unbelievable how aroused you were hearing him talk to you like that, and when rafe pulled your panties aside, he was also in disbelief. "damn, you're wet." letting out a moan in response as he put two fingers inside you.

"fuuuck you're even tighter than the first time, can't wait to break you in" humping back into his hand, your patience faltering.

he quickly pulled his fingers out, shoving his boxers down and spitting onto his dick. you looked up into the mirror, watching him jerk himself off before meeting his tip to your entrance.

you felt a slight burn when he first shoved his tip in, the penetration feeling odd and uncomfortable. "ngh, oh my-" gasping, when he slowly shoved his length more and more into you.

rafe had to resist the urge to fully slam into you, but he wasn't that mean. when he finally was fully into you, he moaned so loudly into your ear. "you're squeezing me so tight babe"

the uncomfortableness quickly turned to pleasure as he started off slowly pacing into you, and you knew it wouldn't last long before he started slamming in and out of you.

quickening his pace, you could feel the counter of the sink digging into your hips. your fingers tightened around the countertop, rafe's roughness pushing you into it everytime he fucked into you.

rafe latched his hand onto your hair, yanking your head back. "look at how well you're taking me, fuck!" your eyes were forced up to the mirror, looking at the unreal scene in front of you.

the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping and groans. his cock doing unexplainable things to you, you felt yourself black out when your high was nearing.

"oh my- rafe, fuck, rafe im close" blabbering, as your vision went out only feeling him inside of you. "yea? cum on my dick princess"

his eyes were focus on the mirror, how good you looked being fucked out of your mind. he should've lasted a little longer, but with a girl like you he could cum in his pants. not the first time it's happened.

his breathing was heavy, hearing your moans made his cock twitch inside of you. he was sooo close, unable to hold himself back.

you felt yourself cum all over his dick, your sight returning as your brain started functioning again, heavy in ecstasy. he kept slamming into you, aware that he was close.

"m' close, so close baby" groaning out, his grip on your waist was harsh. "yea? cum inside me rafe." you said with a stern tone, a tone that made him release in seconds, his cum shooting up into you.

slowing down, he pulled out and watching your shared semen drip out of you. he grabbed a paper towel, and cleaned you up with minimum effort.

you finally picked yourself up from your bent position, knowing you would have some bruises next morning. pulling your pants up, and turning around to face him.

he looked up at you, heart beating a little faster when you stepped over to him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing his jaw "maybe you're not as pussy as i thought" you giggled into his ear, grabbing his face and kissing him before walking out of the bathroom.

it couldn't get better than this for rafe cameron. the woman of his dreams, but it wasn't that easy to work it out.

part 1 , part 2(≽^•˕• ྀི≼)

i think this will be the last part, sorry im not as active but please give feedback <3

[ryescapades]

hello rye! <3 congratulations on reaching 1k followers, you deserve all of them & so much more // i've read all your works, and i can't express in words how amazing of a writer you are ☘︎

for your milestone event can i request:

rin itoshi + sfw + "hey, look at me"

thank you & i wish you the best of lucks on midterms + finals :3c

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 17 - “hey, look at me.” characters: itoshi rin (bllk) x f!reader contents: comfort/fluff, reader gets bothered by some sleazy guys erm wc ~ 1k

a/n: ruruuu my beloved i uhh dunno what to think of this personally but i hope it’s better for u than it is for me shsdfdfk and thankyou sm for participating and the kind words ilyy !! <3 (not proofread!)

your date has been going so well today.

you had planned this so long ago, wanting to go to the aquarium with rin. it’s been quite a while since you’ve had some alone time with him, considering how busy he is with soccer so it’s only right that he’d wanted to spend the whole day and more with the one he treasures the most.

the aquarium itself was a blast; you had fun learning about and looking at all the beautiful sea creatures, though rin would argue that there’s entirely something— or someone— else that was worthy of being labeled as the embodiment of beauty itself.

he would never say that out loud, of course.

the aquarium aside, the rest of the day went by pretty leisurely. after getting yourselves some matching trinkets (you think that the faint blush brushing his cheeks when he holds the dainty ornament in his hands is the loveliest, most incredible sight you’ve ever seen), the two of you decided to check out the new ramen place downtown, catch up a little bit over lunch (you did all the talking, unsurprisingly) before ending up taking a stroll in the park nearby.

everything’s turning out wonderful, until it was not.

while the two of you were preoccupied in your own little bubble, a few wandering tourists had interrupted you to ask for some help. the both of you knew that giving some mere instructions would be too vague, so you had convinced him that you didn’t mind waiting as he showed them the way instead as he was more versed in their language. rin wanted to dispute, not wanting to leave you alone even just for a second, let alone 3 minutes, though he begrudgingly obliged after one look of assurance from you.

the world would’ve been a better place if some people knew how to keep their hands to themselves and mind their own business, really.

all the while you’re waiting for rin to come back, you catch sight of a couple guys standing just a few feet away, their leering eyes hooked on you as their faces spell nothing but trouble. you try not to visibly grimace, turning away from them as you start chanting in your head for your boyfriend to return quickly and wish that by some miracle he could feel your (hopefully) telepathic distress.

you’d wanted to walk away but unfortunately for you, you don’t get far as a few seconds later, a bold finger taps on your shoulder to gain your attention. turning around, you feel your body tense at the men suddenly looming over you with a grin looking oh so sweetly on each of their faces.

“hey, you alone here, sweetheart?” you resist the urge to visibly roll your eyes at the petname. with a reluctant smile, you shake your head at them before starting to walk off. “i’m heading somewhere else, sorry.”

persistent like a parasite with the intent to make your life worse, they fall into steps behind you. you’re feeling the urge to curse at the inconvenience of the part of the city you’re currently at, reprimanding yourself for waiting at such an isolated place. “your friends? or family?” one of them presses, and your heartbeat rises as they begin to get closer.

“boyfriend, excuse you,” you huff quietly under your breath, wanting to lose yourself in the incoming crowd as you anxiously walk faster. you would’ve been fine with tolerating them until they’d eventually get bored of your lack of enthusiasm, if not for the slimy hand that suddenly extends out to harshly grasp yours from behind, triggering your fight or flight response as your heart goes plummeting down to your stomach in dread.

“oh, come on! we just wanted to–” the scream that has bubbled up in your throat doesn’t get to escape, however, when another figure comes barreling towards the man, a raged hand reaching up to fist at the latter’s collar. your wrist is then freed, and you gingerly rub at the skin as if to wipe away the foreign touch.

“she’s clearly not interested, you bastard.” your boyfriend’s gravely tone enters your ears, and you’d almost cried out in relief at his appearance. there was a dangerous and deathly lilt to his voice, and something about it makes you shiver for some unknown reason.

you initially don’t have any clue as to how badly affected rin is by the situation with how he has his back towards you but the way rin’s grip on the stranger’s shirt tightens, proven by the flexing and slight quivering of his arm. not to mention you can hear the man’s audible gulp, so you know it’s not a pretty sight.

“w-whoa, sorry, man. we were just…” the other guy trails off, and you had almost sympathized with how genuinely terrified they look but it’s really not worth the effort to cause such a commotion here so you try to get him to calm down. “rin,” you call out, tugging slightly at the hem of his shirt.

you can see him tensing at your voice for a few moments, then with as much reluctance as he can muster, the striker roughly shoves the man away before backing up slightly to hide you behind him, and they both immediately scurry off into the distance. rin doesn’t take his eyes away from the two, fists clenching and teal orbs sharpening like daggers as if to make sure those jerks are undoubtedly not coming back.

your heart squeezes at this whole ordeal. soothingly sliding your hand down the length of rin’s arm, you languidly take his hand to unfurl the whitening knuckles by weaving your fingers with his. “rin,” you press, reaching up to turn the side of his face towards you. “hey, look at me.”

your boyfriend snaps his head towards you then, tension leaving his body when his eyes land on you. he doesn’t protest when you pull him down by the back of his neck, bumping your forehead against his with a gentle thump, a silly method you’d picked up whenever there is a need to ‘knock’ some sense into him.

because the only way for itoshi rin to simmer down and regain his control is exactly that; having you close to him in whatever way possible.

“i’m here, baby. i’m okay,” you mumble against the shared space between your mouths, and rin doesn’t resist the magnetic pull as he pecks your lips once before planting another one on your forehead. “should’ve brought you along,” he mumbles, exhaling warmly against your skin.

you let out a chuckle, “hm, you’re right…” you feignedly ponder, pulling your intertwined hands together as the two of you start walking again, “though as much as i am thankful, you do look quite hot there getting all mad. and cute too, i guess. like an angry kitty, you know?” you quip, glancing at him with a small teasing smile.

a tinge of pink dusts the apple of his cheeks, his eyebrows furrowing in slight offense. “am not,” rin grumbles.

“are so,” you counter, lightly bumping your shoulder against his side.

“... am not,” he bumps back.

“angry rinnie.”

“shut up.”

taglist open !

©🅁����🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[notaplaceofhonour]

I get significantly less hate online than I did in the year after October 7th and I wish I could attribute it to the hate just fizzling out, but I know that’s not the case.

here’s the things that have made tumblr more livable for me to deal with antisemitism:

anon is off. if you want to say something to me you say it to my face. plenty of antisemites are more than happy to be terrible with their full chest, but a lot of them are chickenshit. this filters out a lot of hate.

the block button is my friend. if I see something hateful, I block. if it’s overt enough (saying “I hate the Jews” or “the Jews are like XYZ”) I report it. I also sometimes go into the notes to see who’s sharing these hateful posts and block a bunch of them preemptively.

don’t reward them for being hateful. they want the engagement, they want the reblogs & likes, they want the persecution complex of “(((the zionists))) are after me”, they want a lolcow to milk; don’t give it to them. if you get in a back-and-forth with them, their followers will jump on you too. if you give the post any notes, tumblr will recommend more like it. don’t reblog unrepentant bigots just to dunk on them or convince them they’re wrong.

don’t be quiet about it either. it does help to still push back, if you do so strategically, in ways that make it unrewarding to get into a back-and-forth with. screenshot it, dunk tank it on your own post rather than giving their post engagement. I do this in one of two ways:

if there’s anything productive to say about it, use it as a learning opportunity. don’t try to convince op they’re wrong. provide a better argument for other people that will inoculate them against op’s bad arguments; save the vitriol & justified anger, just show them how op is wrong & give a more grounded answer so people can avoid falling for it. don’t assume motive. stick to the facts. provide receipts. (if op is too all over the place to make screenshots readable & you paraphrase their argument, only do so for brevity; don’t rephrase “what they really meant”; try to keep their phrasing & work from there to unpack it) (sometimes it works to reblog a bad response to your own post, if you can respond to it in a way that reinforces the point of your original post)

if there is nothing productive to be gained from arguing and it’s just a stupid, truly rancid take, mock the shit out of it on your own post. don’t reach, don’t put words in their mouth, don’t make it about who they are. just show what they said and make fun of it. if it’s stupid enough it’ll stand on its own. don’t do this with takes that are complicated to unravel; that’s what the previous bulletpoint is for.

don’t take this as prescriptive; i’m not saying “this is The Right Way™️ to do it”. but it’s my own internal guidelines for a strategy that’s working for me. feel free to use it if it will help.

[hannieehaee]

hello i love your works! could i please request svt with a shy crush? like how would they interact with them or something (especially the more shyer members) bc their crush is even shyer and probably won’t be the one initiating the confession (unfortunately). thanks!

their crush being shy

content: crushes, introvertedness, crushes, pure fluff, etc.

wc: 872

a/n: i wrote way more for some than others this time it was purely accidental lol but i hope u enjoy!!

masterlist

seungcheol -

he's not usually super shy but you'd kind of be an exception to the rule. would become super giggly and flustered and shy whenever he was around you, creating a mixture of incomplete sentences and stolen glances any time you were around each other. however, he'd sometimes have moments of truth in which he'd be able to flirt with you or make his interest clear.

jeonghan -

he'd find you super cute and adorable. would even get cuteness aggression over you lol. wont put you out of your misery, though. he'll tease you and take advantage of your crush to fluster you. eventually he'll make a move, but he'll have fun with it for a while.

joshua -

similarly to jeonghan, he'll think it's super cute you like him but are too shy to do anything about it. he'll coo at you to your face, chuckling under his breath any time you got flustered at him. would plan on putting you out of your misery and confessing at some point, but would enjoy your crush far too much to do it right away lol.

jun -

i am a shy!jun truther, so i think he'd be extra shy when it comes to someone he likes. he'd be aware that you're just as shy (if not even more), though, so he'd have to work within himself to get the balls to actually try and approach you and ask you out. likely it'd get to a point where you'd just be two people avoiding eye contact to the point where someone else has to intervene.

soonyoung -

he might seem outgoing but im convinced when it comes to things like these, he'll be very shy. he'll know about your crush but he'll be too terrified that his crush is super obvious to do anything about it. it'll just be an endless cycle of the two of you blushing any time you make eye contact.

wonwoo -

contrary to popular belief i think he's got crazy game and wont be shy around someone he's interested in. he'll probably get a little extra confidence at knowing you liked him, maybe even making a few slightly flirtatious comments or attempting to be in your vicinity in order to get you to get flustered.

jihoon -

he'd kind of be at a loss. if you're shy, and he's shy .. then who's driving the bus?? would not really know how to approach you despite being pretty sure the feelings were mutual. his friends would have to gas him up, making it so that he was left alone with you quite often in order to force proximity between you so one of you would FINALLY confess.

seokmin -

would be incredibly endeared by you (even more than he was before realizing you liked him back). he wouldnt confess right away though. no, he'd wanna enjoy your flustered state any time he paid you extra attention or how you'd shyly look away when he'd smile at you.

mingyu -

similarly to seokmin, he'd mostly want to enjoy the reactions he'd get out of you any time he was nearby or any time he flirted with you. would love your shyness, thinking it creates a great contrast to his insane outgoing tendencies (he'd befriend a tree if it could talk). would try and make it obvious he likes you back but wouldnt confess straight away, enjoying the between friends and lovers stage.

minghao -

would be incredibly endeared by you!!! would even get some cuteness aggression from how flustered you'd be any time he looked your way, looking away or blushing at him. he'd wanna sort of court you?? would do a slow process of gaining your affections (even though he knew he already had), eventually asking you out. he'd be super romantic about it, taking into consideration how shy you were and not going too far with it to ensure he didn't scare you away.

seungkwan -

i don't think he'd even realize you were shy or that you liked him at first. he's so outgoing and so friendly with everyone that sometimes he doesnt notice that others may not be as outgoing as him!! he'd probably rush it and ask you out as soon as he realized his crush was mutual though lmao. he'd unknowingly intimidate you with his outgoing demeanor but it'd be endearing overall!!

vernon -

would probably not even be aware that you liked him. sometimes things can go over his head if they're not explicitly stated, so the fact that you're shy and unable to confess to him would make the whole situation difficult lmao. however! if he knew you liked him, he'd wanna be calm about it. would not play games and instead just ask you out, generally just happy his feelings were mutual.

chan -

he'd be in constant agony knowing you liked him and there was nothing he could do about it ... lol but really, i think he'd hesitate in approaching you out of fear of scaring you away or coming off to strong. he's pretty outgoing and self-assured, so he'd feel confident in you liking him back. however! he'd feel kinda guilty by how much he made you blush and stutter and look away when he tried being flirty with you lmao.

[echo-riot]

Posting somthing that isn’t sevika???? Unheard of

Anyways-

VI DATING HEADCANONS + a Cute Drabble

Vi is naturally protective of her girl. Whether you’re in Piltover or Zaun, she insists on walking you home, her arm wrapped securely around your waist. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, she’ll shoot them a death glare—or worse.

Vi is incredibly touchy. She loves holding your hand, resting her chin on your shoulder, or pulling you into a hug from behind. Her love language is physical touch, and she craves that connection constantly.

Vi shows her love through actions. She’ll fix things around your place, bring you your favorite snack, or leave her jacket draped over your shoulders when you’re cold.

Vi loves simple dates—grabbing greasy food from street vendors, exploring Zaun’s markets, or sparring with you just for fun. But she’ll also surprise you with occasional grand gestures, like taking you to a rooftop to watch the city lights.

Vi tries to play it cool, but she’s easily jealous. If someone flirts with you, she’ll wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your temple, making it crystal clear you’re hers

She doesn’t care much about social norms or what others think. If someone makes a snide comment about you, she won’t hesitate to step in, fists clenched and ready to defend you

While she loves teasing, Vi has a soft spot for calling you endearing names when it’s just the two of you—“baby,” “love,” or even a unique nickname tied to an inside joke. She tries out the weirdest nicknames for you too, ranging from “Snuggle Punch” to “Hot Pocket.” The worst part? She says them with complete sincerity. You had to veto “Big Toe”

Vi has exactly three cooking settings: “burnt,” “raw,” and “how is the fire alarm not going off yet?” Every date night she insists she’ll “nail it this time,” and every date night ends with takeout and her swearing vengeance on your oven.

She constantly tries to convince you that chips and energy drinks are a balanced meal. If you so much as suggest eating a vegetable, she’ll dramatically gag and say, “I didn’t survive the Lanes to die of kale poisoning, babe.”

Vi sucks at being low-key when she’s plotting a surprise for you. She’ll come back from shopping with a giant bag, shove it behind her back, and loudly declare, “You didn’t see anything! Nope, definitely not a gift for you in here!”

If you work out together, Vi’s that girlfriend who slaps your back and yells, “ONE MORE REP, BABE!” like she’s training you for the Zaunite Olympics. But the second you spot her doing squats, she’s flexing and asking if you’re checking her out.

She has zero chill when someone flirts with you. She’ll immediately put on her gauntlets (if she has them nearby) or crack her knuckles and stare the poor soul down while saying, “What part of ‘taken’ did you miss, buddy?”

Vi has horrendous taste in movies and insists on watching the cheesiest action flicks with you. She’ll quote every single bad one-liner like it’s gospel and randomly yell, “EXPLOSIONS!” during quiet scenes.

Vi is the queen of spontaneous dumb ideas. “Babe, let’s wrestle.” “Babe, I think we should dye your hair pink.” “Babe, dare me to jump over that fence.” (Spoiler: she’ll do it whether or not you dare her.)

Vi texts like she’s trying to solve a riddle, constantly sending random emojis that make no sense. “🏴‍☠️🥊🔥🦖” somehow translates to, “I’m at the gym, love you, want pizza later?”

Vi snores. Loudly. And if you try to wake her up, she’ll grumble something like, “Shut up, babe. I’m fighting shimmer thugs in my dream.” She also steals all the blankets and leaves you clinging to the corner of the bed like it’s a survival raft.

If she gets the tiniest injury, she’ll act like she’s on her deathbed. “Babe, I think my pinky’s broken. You might need to kiss it better. No, wait, kiss my whole hand. Actually, better make it both hands—just in case.” (Only for you though.)

Vi loves hitting you with the dumbest pickup lines imaginable. “Are you shimmer? ‘Cause you’ve got me addicted, babe.” She’ll then smirk like she’s the smoothest person alive.

————————————————————————____________________________________________

You sat at a table in the corner of The Last Drop, sipping on your drink while Vi sulked dramatically next to you. She had her chin propped on her hand, eyes darting to a group across the room. You followed her gaze to a couple of young women laughing and glancing in your direction.

“Vi, they’re not even looking at me anymore,” you whispered, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, they were looking, alright,” Vi grumbled, narrowing her eyes. “I saw it. That one in the green? She was trying to undress you with her eyes. And not even subtly.”

You rolled your eyes. “They were probably just curious about your big, scary gauntlets. Or the fact that you stomped in here like you own the place.”

“I do own the place when I’m with you,” she said, dead serious. Then she grabbed your hand and laced her fingers through yours. “Look. If anyone tries anything, I’ll break their noses. Just blink twice if I need to go over there.”

“Vi,” you said, squeezing her hand, “no one’s coming over here. And if they do, I can handle myself.”

She glanced at you, clearly skeptical. “Babe, I love you, but you once tripped over your own feet walking to the kitchen.”

You burst out laughing, making her smirk.

“Oh, you think I’m funny?” she teased, leaning closer until her face was inches from yours. “What’s funny is the fact that you can’t stop thinking about me.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, leaning back with a grin. “You’re so cocky. What would you do if I wasn’t thinking about you?”

Vi’s expression turned mock-serious. “I’d probably throw myself into the Hexgate,” she deadpanned. “Start a new life on the other side of the world.”

You snorted. “And then what? Punch your way back to zaun?”

“Damn right,” she said, sitting up straight and puffing out her chest. “No one gets to steal my girl’s attention. Not even a Hexgate.”

Despite her ridiculous antics, her thumb gently traced circles over your hand, grounding you in the little moment you shared. You leaned into her side, your laughter dying into a soft smile.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured.

“And you’re stuck with me,” she shot back, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

Yeah, you were stuck with her. But with Vi, life was never boring—and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Just a thought and no offense but I think Logan just wants to be in love and feel loved in return.

(This isnt proofread and came out as rambling so have fun trying to read it and decipher it! 😅)

So WE ALL know that Logan can be flirty, and that he may have had a period where he was a bit of a manwhore (*cough* 70s Logan *cough*)

I feel like that period though, and any other flings, one night stands, etc whatever was less out of lust and more of a desperation to feel SOME kind of human connection bc the mans so lonely and has been treated like a soldier, a weapon for so long that hes desperate for human connection, even if it makes him end up feeling depraved afterwards. Post-nut clarity wakes him up next to some girl he met at a bar, and guilt sinks its teeth into him because he doesnt even know her name, much less actually LIKE her. The man was born in the 1800s, he may have grown with time but you cannot tell me theres not some inkling of being a gentleman- and wanting to find someone you truly love, hidden in there somewhere. I think overtime he may fall into this routine, believing he needed to be a walking sex magnet, gruff, cocky, whatever have you because hes convinced its the only way he can have a connection with someone, even if its for a few passionate moments under bedsheets, and an awkward "that was nice. Bye"

It only fuels his self hatred, convincing him that he really his just an animal, looking to get his sick desires out, eat, fuck, sleep, survive.

When we see him in the X movies, as a cage fighter he is brutal and rough and he doesnt seem to have a caring bone in his body yet he still manages to find himself caring about this young girl who stowawayed in his trailer, and does help her, even if he acts like this version of logan he created. Someone who doesnt care. But he cares. A lot.

Its not until he meets YOU, that he starts to wonder if he got it all wrong. Kind, beautiful, smart YOU.

I fully believe that logan just wants a partner. One night stands, flings, what have you, were just him lying to himself, desperate to feel something other than hate. After he lost his memories, and he began just wandering, the concept of love was lost on him. And lust wasnt there anymore either. He was approached by women, perfectly fine, pretty women, all the time during his time cage fighting, bars, etc. He turned them all away- completely opposite of logan 30-40 years ago (my timing probs not right on xmen lol) who was convinced the only way he was living was if he had ass next to him every night he went to sleep because he was lonely. This version of logan, lost, angry, wanted nothing to do with people. Some of it the repressed feelings coming out from his past that he doesnt even remember. He was convinced then that he had to be alone. Becoming a lone wolf that bared his teeth at anyone who tried to pet it. Secretly though, deep down although he wouldnt admit it, there was that deep desire, that he always felt in his 200 years, that he just wanted to find his mate. He'd call soulmates bullshit if you asked him, but the moment he meets you, hed know that it was real, and that maybe god cursed (gifted) him the ability of healing and practical immortality just so he could find you. And hed do it over and over again, the pain and suffering and loneliness, if it meant you would be the endgoal.

Logan is a pack animal. He needed a family, to protect, and cherish. When he meets and ends up at the x-men, his demeanor and attitude changes quickly to something similar to a dog that snaps at you when you pet it only for it to whine and whimper "im sorry, please dont hate me, i just dont know how to accept love.". Hes still wary, because hed never KNOWN a family before. Put aside his memory loss, the closest things he had to a family was a creep of a brother, and a woman who said she loved him under false pretenses (i still dont like you kayla even if you say it was real). He barely knew his parents, and even then that was a lie because his father wasnt even his biological father. Yeah, Logans life was pretty damn lonely, so its no wonder the man is cautious of anybody and anything.

The moment you come into his life though, that bitterness, anger, and meaningless flirting goes right out the window. Hes serious about you. Hes usually cautious, nervous around people but he meets you and its almost like he threw all those imaginary rules he has for himself out of the window.

Look at how he was with Jean in the movies. He barely knew the woman, they barely shared ANY lines in the movie yet he was almost completely devoted (dont get me started on that storyline). Trust didnt come easy to the wolverine. And Kayla- their relationship just shows how much he wants love and to be loved. I never seen origins but a lot of gifsets and read the synopsis of the plot, but i think he had a feeling with Kayla he couldnt trust (remember how he says hell never go against his gut again?) But he so badly just wanted that connection he ignored all the warning signs and did everything to build a life with this woman who not only tricked him, but put him through unimaginable pain both physically and mentally. (Look I REALLY dont like kayla but i do feel bad for her because stryker did have her sister captive). I know stryker is the evil mastermind here, but god imagine trying to find love with someone, only for it all to be a farce, even if they claimed they did love you the entire time- the intentions from the very beginning was far from love.

Oh but when he is in love with you. From the moment he met you, it wasnt love at first sight exactly, more like a feeling that you were it. Hes all about you. He sticks around, under the pretense that he just needed to make some money first, doing some missions for charles, keep an eye on rogue. He cant admit its because he wants to stay close to you. Hes like a feral cat taking shelter in your shed. Stays away at first, cautious of your spspspsp, but curious nonetheless. Completely ignores the first bowl of food you put down for it- or so you thought because when you came back it was completely devoured. It takes weeks of food and spspsps before it finally warms up to you, but after that first contact with your hand and its head- good luck ever getting rid of it. Not that youd want to 😊

Logan becomes a shadow to you, once you become something akin to friends. (Its really more than that but no ones addressed it). He teases you and flirts with you, and its something you think he does with everyone, until Ororo tells you that he only does it to you. Sometimes he just sits in your company, other times hes curious about what youre working on, not wanting to start the convo, but does things like leering over your shoulder (which he may or may not be doing just to he close to you and get a good whiff of the smell of your hair). He stresses when you go on missions without him. He slowly opens up about his past to you when he begins to get his memories back. Trusting only you (and maybe charles) with the truth ablut the man he used to be, and still is.

When your feelings finally do come out in the open though, however it happens, that first kiss, the first time you make love, etc etc. Logans a different man. I mean, hes still that cocky, grumpy person we all know and love. But he carried himself differently. Hes confident and wiser, hes comfortable, and hes happy. He found a home, his pack. And maybe after countless conversations about his past, the things hes done, and the comforting words and understandings you give him, he starts to learn that he isnt so bad, because if you love him, YOU, the most wonderful person hes ever known in 200 years, love him despite all of his violence and hatred and slight whoreish tendecies back in the 70s...then he must be alright.

He doesnt need to worry about his past anymore, when hes got you, right there with him, promising a loving future together.

[tiyawnyana]

So this is a special request sent in by @reader210 , thank you for the request! I loved your idea and want to turn it into a multi-chapter story so this is chapter one!

A/N: I actually had so much fun creating this story because the characterization was a blast

Characters: Mel Medarda x Fem!Doctor!Reader

Warnings: nothing explicit, brief swearing, general confusion

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

An Apple a Day

Chapter 1

Synopsis:

Everything was normal- everything was starting to become better, pieces falling into place. You got your new position within the hospital secured, you were thinking about getting a dog, maybe even a cat. Life was beginning to make sense.

Until you end up in an entirely new world, apparently.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Footsteps echo through the halls, a soft sound in these vacant cells as you munch on the fruit given to you a Iittle while ago.

You huff, annoyed and tired with this insane situation.

You didn't expect this- to be somehow spawned into another world. One minute, you're in your office finishing some paperwork for a patient, the next, you're collapsing in the middle of a huge room, seemingly a meeting of elites to some sort.

You remember the shrieks of surprise, the throbbing in your skull as you weakly pushed yourself up with your palms. Your glasses had flung off in the events, nowhere to be found so now you're stuck with fuzzy vision and locked away while whoever figures out who and what you were.

You lean against the cold wall, huffing softly as you rub your fingers into your temple, feeling another headache brewing.

Footsteps get closer, entering the cell hallway and you sigh, rolling your eyes as they get nearer.

You see the fuzzy outline of someone, squinting to try and make them out but no such luck.

You groan as they stop at your cell and you decide to get up, pacing closer to the bars.

“Well? Figure me out yet?” You sass sarcastically.

“I don't think you're in a position to be sarcastic,” the woman murmurs, and you're almost convinced you hear a smirk in her tone.

“I don't think I'm in a position to do anything, I'm afraid, but here we are,” you smirk, leaning against the bars.

She's silent for a moment, gaze seemingly boring into you and you feel heat creeping up your neck in embarrassment. You avert your gaze, huffing softly.

“The Counsel hasn't figured out the cause of your appearance.. Where are you from? Noxus?”

You raise a brow in confusion and question, turning your gaze back to her,”Where the hell is Noxus? I'm from Chicago-”

“Chicago?” She echoes, bewildered,”I don't recognize your accent-”

“Typical brit, huh?” You try to joke but it falls flat. You swallow, looking away again.

“What is your position? Status?”

“Uh- what?”

“Your title,” she speaks firmly.

You look back at her despite her still blurry form,”Uh.. Doctor?”

“You're a Doctor?” She echoes, seemingly surprised,”In that uniform?”

“What's wrong with my uniform?” You look down at the white doctors coat with your soft navy cardigan underneath.

“I've never seen that kind of uniform on a doctor- seems unfitting-”

“Okay-”

“That- is not the main focus of my visit,” she sighs, before lifting her hand and handing you something.

“What's that-”

“Your glasses.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you grab them from her hand and quickly put them on, wincing at the slight blur before your vision comes back into focus and redirecting your gaze back to the woman before you.

Jesus- this woman is gorgeous. Unlike anyone you've ever seen- what?

“Uh- wow,” you murmur, eyes wide as you take her in.

“What?” She tilts her head in confusion.

You figure you must be dreaming. Some drug induced coma, for sure.

“You're stunning,” you say smoothly, uncaring for any embarrassment you'd surely feel if this was real life.

Her gaze widens in surprise, before she quickly masks over it.

“The counsel wishes to conduct an interview, an investigation of sorts to understand your appearance,” she speaks smoothly, bringing keys forward before hesitating,”I trust you'll behave?”

You snort, giving her a nod,”Yes, I'll behave. I'm just as curious as you all are.”

She eyes you for a moment before unlocking the cell, sliding the bars open and beckoning you forward.

You step out, stretching your arms above your head before inhaling sharply in surprise when a guard approaches quickly, cuffs on display.

“Those won't be necessary,” the woman speaks firmly, brushing her hand to signal the guard.

You eye her carefully,”Thank you.”

She nods in silence.

“What's your name?”

She rolls her eyes, ushering you to walk out and you huff a soft laugh.

She walks beside you, leading you through halls with the guard following behind. You can't take your eyes off of your surroundings, enthralled with the architecture and some paintings on the walls.

“This is one insane dream,” you murmur to yourself.

“A dream?” The woman echoes, shaking her head,”How interesting.”

You remember these doors, suddenly nervous at the sight of the giant, overly designed wood as you recall being dragged out of the room behind them.

They open, revealing that those same people from before are seated in their same chairs.

You're pushed forward by the guard and you out of reflex turn to smack at his hand but the woman waves the guard off as she beckons you to follow.

“In the center, if you will,” she murmurs, walking away for circle the table back to her own seat.

You listen as requested, hands clasped together at your front as you stand in the center, feeling as if you were under a microscope.

“Uh.. hi,” you wave awkwardly with a sheepish smile.

The doors open again, a higher pitched voice gaining everyone's attention and you turn to look, only for you to find nothing. They're still talking, though, and you follow the sound to the head of the table when a small person? Seats themselves down.

“It's about time we figured out this anomaly!” He grins through quirked ears and a bushy mustache.

Your head tilts, confusion etched into your face.

“Counselor Medarda, have you found out any new information about our guest?”

The woman, you learn now is something Medarda, turns to nod in his direction.

“Our guest is from what you called Chicago? I am unfamiliar with it-” she turns to look at you.

“Yes- Uh, Chicago, Illinois, to be exact.”

“Illinois-?” A man echoes, and you turn before stifling a smirk.

The blonde man was the definition of a twink back home.

You shake your head, refocusing as you face the head counselor,”Yes, in America?”

His ears perk, eyes narrowed as he peers back at you,”We don't know what you're talking about, this America- there's no lands here by that name.”

“What now?”

Counselor Medarda sighs in defeat,”I truly don't believe we'll find anything of ill intent here,” she speaks smoothly,”Counselor Heimerdinger?”

Your head turns to the head counselor- Heimerdinger, as he furrows his thick brows.

“You don't look of Noxus style,” he huffs,”Nor any other land I've ventured through. I'm curious, what was your occupation?”

“Oh- I'm a Doctor, sir,” you respond sheepishly.

“A Doctor! Impressive,” he smiles genuinely and you're surprised to find delight in that,”I think we could find use of you while keeping an eye on your movements.”

“Use of me-?” You echo in confusion.

“Oh, yes! I believe we could very well use your talents,” he looks to the other counselors.

Some honestly look as if they care less, that one twink in particular, but as your gaze flicks back toward him, you catch onto Ms. Medarda.

She's looking at you with a certain look, a glint to her eye, like she found something worth investing in.

Heat creeps up your cheeks and you don't hear anything else, too occupied with the golden freckles dusting her cheeks and her near hypnotizing eyes.

“Then it's settled!”

You whip your head back to Heimerdinger, expecting the worst but he's got a genuine, friendly smile on his face.

“You'll be under surveillance, of course, but we want to understand your form of healing- perhaps it is different in this.. Chicago?”

You nod in understanding, smiling shakily,”Of- of course, uh-”

“Counselor Medarda and Shoola will lead you around, you will have a stationed enforcer keeping an eye on you until we can determine that you are not a threat.”

You nod again, hands tightening at your front out of nerves.

“I expect weekly reports, have them set up the east wing for board and the first floor for an office for her,” he grins back at you,”I do hope to see good things from you.”

He calls the meeting to an end, hopping down from his chair and exiting the room with a few of the counselors following behind you.

Counselor Medardo waves off Shoola, approaching you from behind before stopping.

“Doctor?”

You snap back into focus, turning to look at her.

“Ready to go?” She beckons toward the door.

You take a moment to reply, nodding in confusion.

“What the hell was that?” You manage to say, following her out of the room.

“That was your interview, investigation, call it what you wish,” she waves it off.

You look at her in bewilderment,”Was that counselor made of metal?”

“Counselor Bolbok?” She side eyes you in confusion.

“Sure, whatever-”

“Hold on.. you've been looking confused,” she turns to you, stopping in the hallway.

“No shit, Sherlock, I’m confused-”

“Sherlock?” She questions, face scrunched in confusion.

Your eyes go wide, hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, stressed,“Ok- what is happening.”

She just raises a brow, that confused look still on her face.

“What was that!” You huff,”Counselor Heim..”

“Counselor Heimerdinger,” she finishes.

“Yes- what?” You laugh in surprise,”What.. is he? In the least disrespectful way possible.”

She's quiet for a moment before sighing in defeat,”You really aren't from here.. are you?”

“That's what I've been telling you-” a headache begins to form,”Did I somehow end up in an entirely new universe? Huh?”

She covers her mouth, hiding the small laugh at your expense.

“Heimerdinger is a Yordle,” she murmurs with a grin,”Bolbok is a gaseous being- he controls his metal exterior.”

You look at her as if she'd grown a second head,“What the hell is a yordle?”

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

A/N: I just needed an excuse to describe Salo as a twink sorry not sorry

[thehelltingvilleclub]

Jerry Stokes - Champion Card Player and Professional Goober

Jerome “Jerry” Titus Stokes Jr. [10/02/80] [6'0. Yes, Bill is mad about this.] Secretary of Fantasy and Role-Playing Games AOL / Online Users: [XxLordxXxAtrocityxX] Theme Songs: Chronically Cautious - Braden Bales | Undone - The Sweater Song - Weezer | Polygon Dust - Porter Robinson Favorite Shit: Middle-Earth, Magic Cards, Percentile Dice, He-Man, Final Fantasy, Dragons, Tabletop Gaming, Conan, Studio Ghibli, Discworld, LARPs, Legend of Zelda, Earthsea, Yawgmoth’s Will, Gen-con, Xena, Aerith Gainsborough, Elfquest, White Magic

Therapy, check. Meds, check. Keys, check. Godsend Card Wars deck, check. EXTRA Card Wars deck in case some fucker tries to one up him, check... shit what is he forgetting *now*? It took him growing a backbone and his parents to finally get his ass to the doctor, but hey, at least he's here now, right??? right????? He's still trying to get Bill to come with him to the office to deal with his anger issues but it's like trying to climb Mordor bro; not gonna happen any time soon.

He's managed to make some new friends in the process, who knew?! Actually going to tournaments is so much more fun than just following Bill around all day--

I have the Power!

Jerry used to take Piano, as his parents tried to get him into as many extra curriculars when he was in elementary as they could to get him out of their hair (And.. hey, at least he learned something..?)

Because of this, he occasionally plays by himself on the practice piano he got as a kid, though usually it's just him learning soundtracks or transcribing the entirety the Ocarina of Time by ear.

y'know. normal everyday shit.

He has a habit of forgetting to trim his nails, however he keeps them relatively neat-- filed down and this dude actually showers and washes his hands like a maniac if he gets dirty, so it's not that bad. Plus, he's convinced it helps him pick up cards better without folding them.

Let's be honest, Jerry forgets a lot of things sometimes in his anxious scramble to get places. Including meals on occasion, which usually results in Josh jumping him as an excuse to get another snack for them both.

Would be willing to have his nails painted, absolutely, but will probably pick it off within the day as a fidget. Sorry guys.

Jerry met Matt at a Card tournament and they became rather quick friends-- and Matt whooped his ass when they played so he had to give the guy some props.

This dude gets the WORST bedhead and he barely does anything about it, just don't make fun of him if his hair is flat in the back please please please--

Jerry. Likes. Stripes. I feel like his mom dressed him up as the Girl who got sick with the Stripes once when he was a toddler cause he got covered in paint and it just *stuck*.

Jerry has also worn the same style of shoe and brand for the past 15 years he's not gonna start changing it now, fuckers

Can you tell he has a separation issue? no? then open your EYES.

This man absolutely gets ass his phone and aol are blowing UP like ALL THE FUCKIN TIME and he's so overwhelmed that he just ignores them all most of the time. most.

He ends up mostly subsisting off of tournament winnings and doing random odd jobs around the neighborhood, but at least it's enough to get him more cards and a bus ticket into Manhattan when he needs it.

Jerry still goes Bee-dee Bee-dee, he doesn't drop it entirely until post 2005-ish, when he meets Mandi. He DOES however, still use Buck as a nickname, cope. it's my world now.

cough uh he hates the feeling of underwear. those are basketball shorts. OOPS

god I love Jerry he's such a little dork

OKAY JOSHYBEAR IS NEXT Im gonna sob I also still have to draw May and Matt's cards...

fyuck

[sagstelliums]

18+ Your Next Sexual Encounter (PAC) *follower request

🅟🅘🅛🅔 1

The vibes- ✌🏾🐻🤵😛

So for some of you I see that your next sexual encounter may be outside, it may be on a date or after a date with someone you don’t see often or it’ll be like a one night stand situation. I see that for some of you they may be heavier or taller than you/size difference between you guys, I see you guys dressing up nice for this date like wearing your best outfit/wearing new clothes and styling your hair nice. I see there being a lot of sexual chemistry and feeling butterflies or nervousness, I see that your sexual encounter may happen unexpectedly or you may be surprised by how much chemistry there is between you guys, they may be brownskin/darker or just darker than you in general. I see the you kissing this person with tongue and groping each other/feeling each other up, I see you holding yourself back because things may feel like it’s happening too quick. You may realize that this person has hidden intentions like they’ll say that they want to go out with you as a friend or just to get to know you, I see you keeping your guard up with them and not doing anything too wild. I see that they’ll very hard/wet for you and they’ll try to convince you to sleep with them, for some of you I see that they’ll ask for oral or to do oral with you. They’ll really like your butt/lower back and they’ll want to touch it often, they’ll want to do anal or do backshots with you. Signs- libra/aries. Libra in the 3rd house, Aries in the 11th house Initials- D, S, Q, N

𝒫𝒾𝓁ℯ 2

The vibes- 🇺🇸🇨🇴🎳👆

I see that your next sexual encounter may be with someone who’s visiting your country or you’re while on vacation, I see that the person will be a different race from you. You or this person may be Colombian or has a Hispanic background, I see you guys going bowling or going to an arcade. You guys will be laughing a lot and enjoying your time together, I see that you or this person will be nervous on the date. This person may be scared to make the first move, there will be a lot of chemistry and you’ll feel like you guys want the same things in life or in love. They’ll do their best to entertain you and make sure you have fun, they may be kind of silly or they like to laugh/smile a lot. Whoever is the feminine I see you being shy while the masculine is more talkative, the masculine energy will try to come across as confident and reassuring. They’ll really find you physically attractive and you might see them staring at you a lot, they really like your face/facial features. I see that the masculine has a big penis like length wise, I see the feminine has a small/tight vagina. During foreplay they’re going to want to kiss you a lot and finger you at the same time, they’ll want to hear your moans and make you feel good. I see that they’ll want to a lot of sex positions where they can see your face, in backshots they’ll still try to see your face or kiss you. This person is an affectionate lover and you’re going to turn them on a lot, they’ll really like your thighs and legs. I see you feeling happy after your next sexual encounter, for some of you I see that this next sexual encounter is something you manifested. I see that this person is someone you’ll see again or you’ll have multiple sexual encounters with this person. Signs- Gemini/leo. Leo in the 4th house or 1st house. Initials- C, E, G, Q

𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔢 3

The vibes-💪🏾👩‍🔧👩‍🌾🫁🫀

I see that this person may have a lot of feminine energy, they may be physically in shape or have a lot of muscles especially their arms. I see that they may be a mechanic/handyman/just someone who works with tools, I see that they may like to cook or they’re a good cook and they like to eat healthy/balanced meals. I see you may meet this person at the car shop or you meet them while trying to get something fixed or while you’re trying to get food, I see you guys being very physically/sexually attracted right off the bat. I see that you’ll try to be responsible and not rush things, I see you may question if this person would be good for you long term. I see you focusing more on yourself and not trying to get too emotionally involved with them, I see them inviting you to their house or inviting you to come over and try their cooking/they may want you to cook for them. I see you guys hanging out at a house, you may smoke or drink with them. Some of you might have unprotected sex with them and you may feel regretful or scared afterwards, I see you feeling like the sex wasn’t too good or it wasn’t worth it. They will try to do anal with you and they’ll want you to jerk then off or touch them while they touch you, this most likely will be a one night stand. If they have a penis I see that it will be an average size but they might have big balls or cum a lot. Signs- Aquarius/cancer, Sagittarius 5th house/pisces 7th house. Initial L, F, N, S

Personal readings always available

Divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[alphajocklover]

Hey man, thanks for the treats! So here’s the deal, I’m a 23-year-old med student, blonde, green eyes, skinnier than I’d like to be, but I’m literally too busy to do anything but study, let alone hit the gym like I really wanna. Even though "relaxing" ain’t in my vocab right now 'cause of the stress I’m livin' with, sometimes I treat myself to a Snickers bar. So yeah, that’d be my pick!

You had never wanted to be that kind of guy, the one whose life revolved around school and studying. You had always been a hard worker, you had to be to get into medical school in the first place, but you had always prided yourself on having a good work-life-studying balance. It had never been easy, but throughout both high school and college you had managed to keep up your grades, work part time to save up for medical school, and have a satisfying social life with a number of close friends. Hell, back in high school you were actually fairly popular. Now that you were in medical school though, it seemed like everything else in your life was falling to the wayside. You didn’t have time for hobbies, parties or friends, you didn’t even have time for your old part time job anymore, as the hours conflicted with your new schedule. The worst part was that even after giving up all that you were still struggling to keep up. You had always been a smart guy, one who thrived in school, but now it seemed that no matter what you did, no matter how much you sacrificed, it wasn’t enough. You couldn’t imagine how hard things would get in two years when you had to do clinicals and actually work at a hospital. You hated to admit it, but your dream of being a doctor had started to feel like a huge trap.

Today was your first night off in months. You had just finished a big exam, one you were certain you only barely passed, and were overjoyed to finally have a moment to relax, even if you were too exhausted to actually do anything fun. You were so tired from everything and so happy to have some time that wasn’t spent studying that you didn’t even question the snickers bar you found in your pantry, convincing yourself you had bought it at a vending machine or something and simply forgotten. You tore off the snickers wrapper carelessly, and took a big bite as you flopped down on a nearby couch, your mind racing as you did. As the chocolate and caramel danced on your tongue, you let your mind wander, imagining if things were different. If you had gone a different route in life, one that allowed you a little more time to just be yourself instead of constantly working. You imagined a life where you didn’t spend so much time worrying about your grades and where you didn’t need to work a part time job to save up for college. Instead of studying you could have thrown yourself into something else, something fun like a club or a sports team. A part of you had always been jealous of how carefree the guys on the football club seemed to be, the guys who worked out for fun or to challenge themselves, not because they were trying to be responsible. Maybe if you hadn’t been so obsessed with your future career, the one you were no longer sure you wanted, you could have been like them. You were fairly athletic in high school, but if you worked out seriously you could have gotten absolutely huge. You could imagine yourself with a body like one of those jocks, or even one better than one of those jocks. In your mind you could picture yourself with broad shoulders and beastly biceps. If you hadn’t spent all that time working at a shitty job to save up for med school you could have had that. You could have joined a sports team, probably football or wrestling. You could have made friends with your teammates. Instead of being fairly popular you could have been the big man on campus! You can almost picture yourself playing football, working out with the guys, making out with cheerleaders. You never thought you wanted a life like that, and had always thought of people who lived for pleasure and fun as being frivolous, dumb even, but… looking back, you can’t help but wonder what it would have been like, what you would have been like.

You relaxed into the couch and let your imagination start to run wild, your body tingling as you did. You imagined going from high school and into college, not having to scrimp and save like some loser, getting by on family money and your football skills. You imagined not worrying about grades, cause only nerds and losers did that, and instead just enjoying your life as an all around stud and football god. You imagined having a different major, probably something cool like business or kinesiology, something that would help you open your own gym one day so that party wouldn’t have to stop when college did. You imagined a life where instead of always working towards a future that disappointed you, you enjoyed the here and now. A life where you could just relax. 

You had gotten so lost in your thoughts that it took you a moment to realize you had finished the Snickers Bar. As you realized you had eaten the whole thing without even thinking about it, you felt a slight chuckle escape your lips, one that quickly grew into a manly guffaw. Did you really just eat the whole Snicker Bar without even thinking about it or enjoying the taste? That was the one cheat on your diet you allowed yourself a week! You could be such a dumbass sometimes. Not that it really mattered. Being smart was for fucking geeks.

You laughed a little as you tried to remember what you had been thinking about moments before. You could swear you were wondering about what your life would be like if you were different… but why would you ever want to be? You had a killer body, great bros to hang with, a sweet job as a personal trainer, and chicks and twinks throwing themselves at you almost every night. Why would you want your life to be any different? The idea of you wanting to be anyone besides the awesome, laidback stud you are… its fucking laughable!

[fangirl-rose1029]

Bookworm & the Prince

Pairing: Fiyero x neutral!Reader

A/N’s: After seeing Wicked. Fiyero aka Mr. Jonathan Bailey has been living rent free in my mind 🫠 This is my first time ever posting any of my writing on tumblr that is. I’ve written before on FanFiction but it’s been awhile. Please let me know what you think!

Summary: Reader enjoys spending their time in the library, Fiyero tries to make things more fun and interesting but it ends up backfiring on him.

Warnings: None really. Just fluff and a lot of flirting/teasing.

The Shiz University library was usually a quiet sanctuary for Y/N. It was their refuge from distractions, filled with books that demanded attention instead of loud voices and obnoxious flirting. Unfortunately, distractions had a way of finding you— particularly when they had a royal title and a smirk that refused to quit.

You needed one more book for your paper on ancient magic, but of course, the one she needed was on the highest shelf. You stood on your tiptoe, reaching as high as you could, but the book was just out of your grasp.

“Need a hand?”

You turned to see none other than Prince Fiyero leaning casually against one of the bookshelves, watching you with an amused expression. His signature grin was already in place and his eyes twinkled with mischief.

You sighed and let your arm drop, not bothering to turn around. “I’m fine, Fiyero.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Fiyero said, appearing at your side. He glanced at the book you were trying to reach and grinned. “You know bookworm, you could just admit you need. I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Because your ego isn’t inflated enough already?” You shot back, still refusing to look at him.

Fiyero chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Before you could protest, he reached up and plucked the book from the shelf with ease. But instead of handing it to you, he brought it behind his back, leaning casually against the shelf with one hand holding the book out of sight.

You narrowed your eyes, turning to face him fully, “Really?”

“Really,” he said, his grin widening. “This is way more fun than just giving it to you.”

You stepped closer, reaching for the book, but Fiyero moved quickly. Using his free hand, he gently but firmly pressed his palm against her shoulder, holding her back just enough to stop her.

“Ah ah,” he teased, shaking his head. “That’s cheating.”

“You are insufferable,” you said, your voice flat, though the spark of amusement in your eyes betrayed your true feelings.

“I’ve been called worse,” he quipped.

You huffed and tried to dart around him, but Fiyero shifted, keeping the book firmly behind his back and blocking her with his body. His other hand lifted to stop her again, hovering near her arm.

“Fiyero,” you warned, stepping closer, “you’re going to regret this.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” he said smoothly, his eyes locking with yours. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want this.”

You paused, tilting her head and regarding him for a long moment. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you reached behind him, your fingers brushing his as you tried to snatch the book.

Fiyero laughed stepping back and raising the book high above his head, well out of your reach, “Nice try.”

“You’re such a child,” you said, glaring at him.

“Come on, bookworm, play along,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. “You spend all your time buried in books. Don’t you want a little fun?”

You rolled your eyes, “What’s fun about this, Fiyero?”

“Everything,” he said with a wink.

You narrowed your eyes, then tilted your head slightly, a smile playing at your lips. “Oh, I see. You think you’ve got the upper hand, don’t you?”

“I know do,” he smugly.

Your smile widened, and you stepped closer, your voice dropping into something softer, more playful. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to convince you to give it to me.”

Fiyero blinked, caught off guard by the shift in demeanor. “Convince me, huh? I’d love to see you try.”

You moved even closer, until there was barely a breath of space between them. Her gaze locked on his, her voice low and teasing.

“Do you really want to play this game, Fiyero? Because I don’t think you’re ready for me.”

For the first time, his grin faltered, replace by a flicker of uncertainty. But it was gone as quickly as it came, and he leaned down slightly, meeting her challenge. “Oh, I’m ready love.”

You smirked, your fingers brushing his arms as you leaned just enough to peek behind his back, pretending to make a grab for the book. “Are you sure about that? Because you seem a little distracted.”

Fiyero’s laugh was nervous but amused as he shifted the book to his other hand and lifted it high above his head. “Nice try.”

You laughed softly, your tone still playful. “I don’t know, Fiyero. You look like you’re struggling to keep up.”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” he said, lifting the book even higher,

You raised your eyebrow, stepping even closer, your hand trailing lightly up his arm. “You are so confident,” you murmured, your voice sweet. “But confidence can be dangerous, you know.”

Fiyero’s breath hitched slightly, and his eyes flickered to your hand before darting back to your face. “Dangerous, huh?”

“Mm-hmm,” you said, your lips curving into a slow smile. “It makes you underestimate your opponent.”

Your hand brushed lightly against his wrist, and for a moment, he hesitated. You used that hesitation to slide your fingers towards the book, but he caught on at the last second, pulling it back with a triumphant laugh. “Not bad,” he admitted, stepping back, his grin returning. “But not good enough.”

You let out a mock sigh, tapping your chin as if in deep thought. Then you stepped closer again, her tone dropping to a whisper. “You know Fiyero, I could make this worth your while.”

His eyebrows shot up, his grin faltering again. “Worth my while?”

You tilted your head, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “You did say you wanted to have fun, didn’t you? Maybe we could…negotiate.”

Fiyero blinked, clearly unsure if she was serious. “Negotiate?”

You nodded, stepping even closer until they were almost chest to chest. Your fingers brushed his other hand lightly, drawing his attention just long enough for you to dart your other hand toward the book. You grabbed it, but his grip tightened before you could pull it away.

“Oh no,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned down, his voice low. “You’re not getting it that easily.”

Your smirk widened, your fingers curling more tightly around the book. Your other hand placed on Fiyero’s chest as you leaned in, your faces now inches apart.

“Who said anything about easy?” You said, in a low teasing tone.

Fiyero’s gaze flicked to your lips for a fraction of a second, and in that moment, his grip slackened just enough. You yanked the book free, taking a quick step back with a triumphant laugh.

“Gotcha,” you said, holding the book up like a trophy.

Fiyero stared at you, stunned for a moment, before letting out a low chuckle. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

You shrugged, your smile innocent. “You’re the one who started it,”

He shook his head, a crooked grin on his face.

“Fine, you win this round. But don’t think I’m letting you off so easily next time.”

You turned, walking back to your table with the book in hand. “We’ll see about that, Prince Charming.”

As you sat down, Fiyero call after you, “Admit it, you had fun!”

You didn’t answer, but the sly smile on your face said everything he needed to know.

[lolitastories]

Blue Eyes

Rafe Cameron

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Read alone or consider it as Part 4.

“Are you sure we can’t just skip town and settle in- I don’t know, Canada sounds fun!” I woke up early in the morning to head back home hoping Rafe would stay in his house with our daughter while I dealt with my family. But Rafe being Rafe convinced me it was better to deal with it together, so now I am cleaning my house while he plays with the baby on the couch not listening to my pleas. “She can learn how to ice skate, maybe hockey?” I scream from the kitchen. “I heard healthcare is amazing-”

“Breathe.” I turn around setting the rag on the counter. I look up and see Rafe on the kitchen doorway with our daughter in his arms. I pat my hands dry on my pants as I walk closer to them.

“Japan?” He grins, shaking his head. I groan as I place my head against his chest. “This is going to be unbearable.” Rafe moves his fingers under my chin and lifts it.

“Maybe it won’t be,” I raise my brow, he couldn’t even believe in his own words. “As long as they don’t make any rude remarks, we will be fine, civilized.” He comes down and places a kiss on my forehead.

“If It hadn’t been for a moment of weakness, I wouldn’t have been dealing with this.” I grab Rafe's hand and pull him towards the couch. “I just had to visit my grandmother,” I hear Rafe laugh as he sits down and places our girl in between us.

“By the stories, what else did you expect from a mother-in-law who deep down never liked her son’s wife?” My father was her first born and definitely her favorite.

“Maybe respect her granddaughter's wish of wanting to wait before I tell the rest of the family.” I look over to find Rafe just grinning. “That grin won’t last long,” I stood up and moved to take a spot on his lap. One arm around his shoulder while the other caresses his face. “I can handle them if things go south. I don’t want to put you in a difficult situation.” I look down, chuckling as I watch our daughter grab a fist full of my pants as she tries to crawl between us. “I know your temper and I want you to promise you won’t let them get the best of you,” I look back at him, who is staring blankly back. “Please?”

“Okay” He helps our daughter stand on his lap and her small arm waves around to get a hold of Rafe. We laugh seeing her almost hit me.

“She has to learn how to share,” It's like she understood. Her small head turns over to look at me. I placed my face in the crook of Rafe's neck but soon after she was back to hitting me. “He was mine first” I playfully joke which she smiles at. Our moment is cut short when we hear a knock on the door.  I took a deep breath before opening the door which revealed my parents, grandmother and sister. “Hey”

“Hi honey, how are you?” My grandmother passes by without even looking at me. “There she is!” I hear her excitement.

“Let us have a good reunion, okay?” I move aside a bit more and stay quiet due to my mother's words. My father only nods his head and walks in close behind my mother.

“Ready?” I look up and shake my head. “Too bad.” I know my sister was trying to lighten up my mood, but these nerves can’t be knocked out until they are out of here. I walk to stand beside Rafe who was already being stared down by my parents.

“Mom, dad, grandma, this is Rafe” My grandmother looks up and smiles before going back to babbling at my daughter.

“Nice to meet you” Rafe goes to shake their hand, but they don’t even give him that. I roll my eyes and turn towards my sister.

“This is my sister.” I point over and she smiles, coming forward to shake his hand.

“Nice to meet my sister's first boyfriend,” I give her a stare, but she doesn’t take the hint. “She wasn’t much for dating so imagine us more than surprised when we heard she had a kid with someone.” She was the only one laughing.

“Yeah, imagine us surprised.” My mother coldly said. “We never interfere with her choices because she has always been our responsible one but not even letting us be part of such an important part of her life well, we didn’t expect that.”

“What made you think that was a good decision?” My father finally looked straight into my eyes. “Wasn’t he the reason you came home for those weeks? Now you have a child with him?”

“No. My reasons for coming home were about me, I needed time to breathe, and I thought going home would clear things up.”

“Doesn’t seem like it cleared up anything in you. You must have come home because you told him you were pregnant, and he didn’t want anything to do with you or your child.” He knocked the wind right out of me. “Then you moved back, and he probably didn’t even help you through your pregnancy and only shows up once a week” His tone got higher as he spits out his words.

“I am not going to argue about what he did or didn’t do because you don’t deserve or have the right to that part of my life. I have a child with this man, and he will keep on being part of my child's life because he wants that too.” My hands felt numb.

“What will happen when he decides to leave huh? How would you take care of your child alone as a single mother? You’re tough my girl, but you fall down so easily.” My jaw stiffens as I watch my mother agree with my father's words.

“Well, that is part of life, isn’t it?” I look directly at my mother. “You know more about fighting for your kids as a single mother than I will, but I can assure you I will not find a man of convenience. I can handle that, you two on the other hand have no right to give me advice on that topic.” My mothers' eyes look down before taking her stance again. I remember the day I was hiding in the living room. She was talking on the phone, and she was talking about not loving my father. She married him because he had the means to take care of her and her children she brought into the marriage. That is when my view of them together forever changed, he wasn’t my real father, but I loved him, and she didn’t love him. “Now another part of my life I don’t need advice on is you being a part of her life,” I pointed over towards my daughter who was getting fussy in my grandmother's arms. “I know you aren’t here for me so if you want to get to know her, I will accept it as long as you know your place.” I feel Rafe's hand entwined with mine.

“You think-”

“Dad.” My sister walks forward. I could see the anger in his eyes. The way his hands are fisted shut. My head turns when I hear a cry from my girl. I walk over and take her from my grandmother's arms. I didn't hear what my sister was telling them, but they were quiet when I walked over to Rafe.

“We need time.” My mother finally speaks. She picks up her purse and starts heading towards the door with the rest. “We will let you know when we are available to visit.” My grandmother kindly hugs me before she walks out along with my sister.

“Mom?” I stand in the doorway watching as she steps down the stairs following my father towards the car. “My life will continue with or without you and so will hers. I will not go out of my way to please you anymore; I have more important things in my life now.” Her cold stare and demeanor don’t change. She walks off taking another quick glance back at me as she gets into the car. I shut the door and hear in the background how the tires drive off in the gravel. My mind was interrupted when I felt two hands grip my face and pull me in. Rafe places multiple kisses on my lips, then my cheek until he stops and stares at me. I didn’t notice until a laugh came out of my mouth, but I had a huge smile on my face.

“I am so proud of you” He wraps his arms around my waist making sure not to squish our daughter. “Are you okay?” He says lovingly. I nod my head letting my shoulder fall from all the tension.

“Yeah.” It felt like forever with them here but now that is it all over, I feel so relieved like it never happened. “We need to make this a happy day again.” Rafe raises his eyebrow questioning me. “Let's go out!” I pull apart with him and start getting the diaper bag ready.

“How about the aquarium?” I pause thinking back to the last time I visited one. “You love it, and it will be nice to share that with her since she is becoming obsessed with that otter” I laugh putting that exact otter in her bag.

“You don’t want to go thrifting?” I tease handing him the bag.

“No.” He instantly responds. “I will follow you through hell, but I don’t think I can do another antique store or thrift store for another month.” I roll my eyes.

“You are exaggerating,” I hand over our daughter so I can put on my shoes. “But I guess I will just have to find me another man who doesn’t mind”

“You do that, and he won’t last long breathing.” I ignore his comment and stand up to take the diaper bag from his hand.

“Whatever macho man. Let's go because we have enough time to get back before her nap.” I rush over to the door and see him slowly walking. “I thought we would repeat our prior activity while she naps but it's fine-” I hold back a laugh when I see him speed run past the door.

“You should have started with that!” I shake my head as I lock the front door and rush down to the stairs towards his truck. “Don’t you dare touch that door!” My hands weren't even raised I thought in my head. I hear the gravel move under his feet as he comes around the truck. I go to turn around, but his hand meets my hip and pushes me against the truck gently. His other hand moves to tuck my hair behind my ear.

“I know this feels too normal to go back to where we used to be, but We know that we can’t go back to the way we were before.” He moves his body closer. “I want to be the man you need not just because you are the mother of my child but because you deserve someone who treats you right.” My body shivers to see his eyes full of such devotion. “We will go slow when it comes to us because this is forever. I will take my time for the sake of us.” I wasn’t the one to cry but Rafe's always brought it out of me.

“I love you” I say in a shaky voice. A smile appears on his face, and he moves forward to place a simple kiss on my lips.

“I love you too” I didn’t meet Rafe in his crazy teen years, but I have heard stories about how unhinged he was back then. I wonder how many people would be shocked to see him now. A devoted father who will do anything for his little girl, and a man who looks so lovingly at me. So sappy, I smiled to myself. Then again why did I care? This was the Rafe I knew and loved, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

[mywhisperingwords]

am i what you wanted? | fred g. weasley

summary: casual. no strings. just something to forget the loneliness. right? word count: 7.6k masterlist

The air at the party feels heavier than usual, like everyone is trying too hard to pretend they’re having a good time.

You’ve spent most of the night nursing a drink you don’t particularly like, offering polite smiles to people you barely know. It’s not your scene, but you came anyway because that’s what friends do—they drag you out, convince you it’ll be “fun,” and leave you regretting it by the second hour.

You’re just about ready to slip away when you spot him—Fred Weasley.

He’s leaning against the kitchen counter, casual and effortless as always, but there’s something different tonight. The usual spark in his eyes is dimmer, his smile not quite as wide. He’s talking to someone, but his gaze keeps drifting, like he’s only half paying attention.

You consider leaving without a word. After all, you’ve spent years perfecting the art of avoiding him. Not because you dislike him—quite the opposite.

Your stupid schoolgirl crush on him hasn’t quite fizzled out, no matter how much time has passed.

And of course, there was the matter of his latest relationship, a whirlwind romance with someone you considered a friend, Leah.

It would be wrong to approach him now, wouldn’t it?

But then Fred’s eyes land on you, and there’s no escaping. He gives you a faint smile, a shadow of his usual grin, and lifts his drink in a lazy sort of greeting. It’s an invitation, subtle but unmistakable. Against your better judgment, you cross the room.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says, his voice low enough to cut through the background noise without effort.

You shrug, trying to seem unaffected. “Alicia dragged me out. Said I needed to get a life or something.”

Fred huffs a quiet laugh, looking down into his glass. “Sounds like something she’d say. George said the same to me, actually. Guess misery loves company.”

The comment surprises you. Fred doesn’t usually talk like that—so openly, so vulnerable. It’s enough to make you pause, to glance at him more carefully. “You don’t seem miserable,” you say, testing the waters.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a long sip of his drink and stares past you, like he’s trying to find the right words. “You’d be surprised,” he finally says, his tone softer now.

It’s an opening, one you hadn’t expected but can’t ignore. “What happened?”

Fred glances around, his expression unreadable, before gesturing toward the balcony. “Do you mind? It’s a bit loud in here.”

You follow him outside, where the night air is cool and quiet compared to the chaos inside. He leans against the railing, staring out at the city lights, and you stand beside him, unsure of what to say.

“She left,” he says abruptly, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about her—his ex.

“Oh.” It’s all you can manage.

Fred smiles faintly, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah. Not the dramatic kind of leaving either. No big fight, no slamming doors. Just… stopped caring, I guess. Said it wasn’t enough for her.”

The confession stirs something in you, a mix of sympathy and something sharper, harder to define.

You’ve never known Fred to be anything but confident, self-assured. Seeing him like this—guarded, almost uncertain—it’s disarming.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, and you mean it.

He glances at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment, it feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. “It’s funny, isn’t it? How loneliness sneaks up on you. One day you think you’re fine, and the next, it’s like you can’t breathe.”

You nod, because you understand more than you’d like to admit. “Yeah. It’s awful.”

Fred studies you for a moment longer before offering a faint, almost wistful smile. “You get it.”

The words settle between you, warm and unspoken, and before you can overthink it, you say, “Maybe we’re just terrible at choosing the right people.”

Fred laughs then, a soft, genuine sound that eases some of the tension in your chest. “Maybe we are.”

It feels like an unspoken agreement, a quiet acknowledgment of shared pain. And when he leans just a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, you don’t pull away.

&

The door slams shut behind you both, barely closed before Fred’s hands are on your waist, pulling you closer. His mouth is on yours again, urgent and consuming, and the world outside this moment ceases to exist.

You’re not sure how it started—or maybe you do—but you’re too caught up in the feel of him, in the way he kisses like he’s unraveling a part of himself he’s never shown anyone.

Your back hits the edge of the couch, but Fred doesn’t stop. He moves with you, stumbling through the dark like neither of you can think beyond each other.

You barely make it to the bedroom. A trail of discarded shoes and jackets marks the path, forgotten in the haze.

He pauses only briefly, just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. “This…” he begins, his voice rough, barely a whisper. “This is what I needed. Something… easy. No expectations.”

The words are quiet but land with a weight that sticks somewhere in your chest. You know what he means—casual, uncomplicated, something to dull the ache of loneliness he spoke of earlier.

Your heart lurches, but your mind, clouded with want and the intoxicating proximity of him, nods before you can think it through. “Yeah,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

The lie tastes bitter even as the kiss resumes, as his lips trail down your neck, as his hands find your skin. You tell yourself you’re fine with this. It’s Fred, and it’s what he wants. Isn’t it better to have this than nothing at all?

When morning comes, he’s gone.

You’re not surprised—he doesn’t strike you as the type to linger—but the silence in the room feels deafening. The sheets are cold where he was, and you stare at the ceiling, replaying his words in your head.

Something easy. No expectations.

Your agreement, muffled and uncertain, rings louder now. You agreed. This is what you signed up for. So why does your chest ache? Why does it feel like you’ve made a mistake you can’t undo?

You sit up, the mess of the night scattered around you—a shirt draped over the chair, an overturned glass on the table. It’s all so mundane, yet it feels like the air has shifted in your room, like the walls are pressing in.

You bury your face in your hands, letting out a slow, measured breath. Maybe this wasn’t the right decision. But you can’t change it now. Fred was what you wanted for so long, wasn’t he? Maybe this is all you get.

Maybe this is all you’re allowed to have.

You hope you can convince yourself of that.

&

The pub is buzzing, laughter and conversation spilling out from every corner as you sit wedged between Alicia and George.

Fred is across from you, casually leaning back in his chair, a pint of beer balanced between his long fingers. His laughter blends with the noise around you, effortlessly charming, as always.

It’s easy to forget, in moments like this, that this is supposed to be casual. Easy.

You catch yourself watching him longer than you should, noting the way his hair falls into his eyes when he laughs, the way his smile lingers just enough to make your stomach twist.

You remind yourself to look away.

The conversation circles back to someone’s recent breakup, a natural segue into a casual remark about Fred’s ex.

It’s Angelina, sitting two seats down, who says it without malice—just an innocent mention of the girl who was once by his side.

“You were so into her, Fred. Thought you two were endgame, honestly,” she says with a smile, tipping her glass toward him.

Fred’s expression flickers, just for a second, but it’s enough to change the energy at the table. The easy grin falters, his fingers tightening around the glass. “Yeah, well,” he says, voice light but guarded, “things don’t always work out the way you think they will.”

The group catches on quickly, steering the conversation elsewhere, but you can’t take your eyes off him. There’s something in the way his shoulders tense, in the way he avoids eye contact, that makes your chest tighten.

The rest of the evening is a blur of noise and small talk. You find yourself gravitating toward the bar, needing space, needing air. But you don’t get far.

Fred appears beside you, leaning on the counter with a quiet sigh. His eyes are darker now, shadows of something unspoken behind them. He doesn’t say anything, just glances at you, and suddenly the air feels heavier.

“Come with me,” he mutters all of the sudden, so low you almost don’t hear it.

You hesitate, your heart skipping, but you follow.

He leads you down a narrow hallway, past the kitchen, until you’re standing outside the bathroom door. He checks once over his shoulder before pulling you in, locking the door behind him.

“Fred, what are you—”

He cuts you off, his mouth crashing into yours with a force that takes your breath away.

It’s messy, hurried, like he’s trying to drown something out. His hands find your waist, pressing you against the cold tile wall, and you can feel the tension in his grip, the desperation in the way he kisses you.

It’s different this time—more frantic, less controlled. There’s no room to think, no space for words, just the heat of him against you and the quiet hum of the pub muffled beyond the door.

When it’s over, you’re both catching your breath, the silence settling around you like a weight. Fred’s forehead rests against yours, and for a moment, it feels like he might say something—something real, something vulnerable.

But then he steps back, adjusting his shirt, his eyes not quite meeting yours. “Thanks,” he mutters, almost too softly, and the word hits you like a slap.

You blink, trying to find something to say, but he’s already unlocking the door, slipping out like nothing happened.

You’re left standing there, the cold tiles against your back, your pulse still racing. You stare at the empty space where he was, your mind replaying the moment in vivid detail.

Something about this feels wrong. But then again, wasn’t this what you agreed to?

&

It’s late. Later than late, really, with the kind of stillness in the air that only comes when the rest of the world is sleeping.

But you’re wide awake, perched on the edge of your couch with a half-empty glass of wine in your hand, listening to the faint hum of the city outside.

You don’t know why you’re waiting.

Or maybe you do, but admitting it feels like giving it more weight than it deserves.

It’s been a few days since you saw Fred—since he showed up at your door for the first time, with that crooked smile and a cocky, unspoken challenge in his eyes.

You hadn’t known what to expect then, and you still don’t know now. But when you hear the knock at your door, your chest tightens in anticipation anyway.

You set the glass down and cross the room, opening the door to find him leaning against the frame, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

“Bit late for a social call, don’t you think?” you tease, though your voice wavers just slightly.

Fred grins, that easy, practiced grin that always feels like it’s hiding something. “Thought you might say that. But then, you’re still awake, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and step aside, letting him in. He walks past you, his steps slow and deliberate, like he’s taking his time to assess the space.

It’s not the first time he’s been here, but he looks around like it is, his gaze lingering on the small details you’d never think to notice.

“You always keep it this tidy?” he asks, turning to face you with a smirk.

“I knew you were coming, didn’t I?” you shoot back, closing the door behind him.

Fred laughs, the sound low and warm, and suddenly the room feels smaller.

It’s always like this with him—this electric push and pull that leaves you feeling off-balance and exhilarated all at once.

He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the back of a chair, and then he’s sitting on your couch like he’s been doing it for years.

You join him, keeping a safe distance between you, but it doesn’t matter. The tension fills the space anyway, a quiet, unspoken thing neither of you is willing to address.

“So,” Fred says, his eyes flicking to the wine glass you left on the table. “Drinking alone, are we? Rough night?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Not rough. Just… quiet.”

Fred hums, leaning back and stretching an arm along the back of the couch. His fingers are close enough to brush your shoulder, but they don’t.

“Well,” he says after a beat, “I’m good at making noise. Want me to liven things up?”

You turn to look at him, arching a brow at his choice of words. “That depends. What exactly do you have in mind?”

He grins again, wider this time, and before you know it, you’re caught up in one of his ridiculous stories—something about a prank that went wrong back at Hogwarts and ended with George covered in soot and screaming about cursed cauldrons.

You’re laughing so hard your sides hurt, the kind of laugh that feels like it’s shaking loose all the tension you’ve been carrying for days. Fred is laughing too, his head thrown back, his shoulders shaking.

And for a moment, it’s easy to forget the doubts gnawing at the edges of your mind.

But then the story ends, and the laughter fades, and the room feels too quiet again.

Fred’s laughter dies in his throat first. He turns his head toward you, the space between you charged, his expression softening as his eyes flicker to your lips.

“You’re staring,” you whisper, trying to keep your tone light, but your pulse betrays you.

“Am I?” he murmurs back, his voice low and teasing, but there’s something in his gaze that makes it hard to breathe.

You don’t know who moves first—maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you—but suddenly, the space between you disappears. His mouth meets yours in a rush of heat and hunger, and your body reacts without thought, your hands tangling in his hair as he pulls you closer.

He tastes like mint and something else, something unmistakably Fred, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

It starts like it always does—feverish and desperate, hands searching, breaths stolen. Fred’s hands find the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head, and your back hits the cushions of the couch before you even realize you’ve moved.

But somewhere in the middle of it—between the hurried kisses and the whispered curses—something shifts.

His touch slows, his fingers trailing along your skin with an almost reverent softness. He presses his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your lips, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like there’s more to this than just a casual arrangement.

Your chest tightens, and you open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words catch in your throat.

Fred pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to figure out if you feel it too.

But then the moment passes, and he closes his eyes, shaking his head like he’s dismissing some unwelcome thought. He presses a lingering kiss to your collarbone before shifting his weight and standing, grabbing his jacket from the chair.

“Leaving already?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Fred hesitates, his back to you. “Yeah,” he says, his tone lighter than the moment calls for. “Gotta keep you wanting more, don’t I?”

The grin he throws over his shoulder is forced, you think, but you don’t call him on it.

You watch him leave, the door clicking shut behind him, and you’re left alone again, your chest tight and your mind racing.

This is what you signed up for, you remind yourself. Casual. Fun. No strings attached.

So why does it already feel like so much more?

&

The party isn’t much different from the last one. A haze of laughter and music hangs in the air, the dimly lit living room thrumming with energy as bodies mill about. You’re leaning against a wall, clutching a drink, when you spot him across the room.

Fred.

Your breath catches—not because you didn’t expect him to be here, but because it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this since everything began.

In the few weeks since that night, he’s always shown up at your door under cover of darkness, a secret that slips away before the world wakes. Now, he’s here, among friends, out in the open. It feels… surreal.

His eyes catch yours, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he looks away. You should probably do the same, pretend he’s just another person at the party, someone you barely know outside of shared jokes and casual conversations.

But something about seeing him here, the same Fred everyone else knows, tangles in your chest.

The game between you feels different now. Riskier.

You manage to avoid each other for most of the night, though you’re painfully aware of him. The way his laugh carries over the music. The effortless charm in the way he leans against the kitchen counter, surrounded by people.

But it’s when you least expect it that it happens.

You’ve slipped into the quiet hallway, hoping for a moment to breathe. He appears from nowhere, leaning casually against the wall a few feet away. His hands are shoved in his pockets, and he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, low enough that no one else could hear.

You swallow, refusing to meet his gaze. “You’ve been avoiding me too.”

A ghost of a smirk crosses his face. “Fair enough.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches, filled only by the distant hum of the party, the bass thudding like a heartbeat. Then he shifts closer—too close, considering the thin walls and prying eyes just a room away.

“This is risky,” you murmur, though you don’t move away.

“Since when do you mind risky?” he counters, his voice teasing but quiet. There’s a flicker of warmth in his tone, a reminder of those moments when he’s let his guard down just enough to let you in.

You should push him away, but you don’t.

Instead, you glance up, and for the briefest second, he looks at you like he’s about to say something important. Something real. But he doesn’t. He’s Fred, after all.

Instead, his hand brushes yours, a fleeting touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You hesitate, your chest tightening. “Then why are you?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His fingers graze your wrist, light and hesitant, before he steps back, creating a distance that feels far too wide.

“I shouldn’t be,” he says again, as though repeating it will make it true. Then, softer, “But I am.”

The air between you feels heavier than it should. He’s pulling away again, retreating into the shell of secrecy he’s so carefully built. It frustrates you more than it should.

“You don’t have to make this so complicated,” you say, surprising even yourself.

Fred’s jaw tightens. He glances at the door leading back to the party, his gaze distant, before his eyes flicker back to you. “You think it’s that easy?”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know how to.

Instead, he leans in, his voice a whisper. “Careful. Someone might see us.” His words are teasing, but there’s an edge of something sharper beneath them.

And then he’s gone, disappearing back into the crowd as though nothing happened.

You’re left standing there, your heart racing and your thoughts tangled in ways you can’t quite unravel.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. You don’t see him again, but his presence lingers like a shadow, like a secret you can’t escape.

And when you finally leave the party, stepping out into the cool night air, you can’t help but wonder if this game you’re playing is one you’ll ever win—or if it’s one you’ll lose before it even truly begins.

&

It’s been days since the party.

Days of wondering if Fred will show up again, if you’ll hear that familiar knock on your door in the dead of night. He doesn’t call, doesn’t send any owl—not that you expected him to. But his absence still gnaws at you.

When the knock finally comes, it’s past midnight. You hesitate for a moment, standing barefoot in the hallway, staring at the door like it might vanish if you blink. Then, as if on instinct, you reach for the handle.

Fred is there, leaning against the frame, his hair tousled, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything, just steps inside, his hands finding your waist almost immediately.

It’s fast, like always. A trail of kisses down your neck, murmured words you can barely catch, and then you’re stumbling toward the bedroom. It’s almost routine now—the way he knows exactly how to pull you apart, the way he leaves before the sun comes up.

It’s the same pattern, the same urgency, like he’s trying to chase away whatever’s haunting him.

Only this time, he leaves without saying much of anything. A quick glance back, a muttered “I’ll see you,” and then the door clicks shut behind him.

The quiet that follows feels heavier than it should. You sit on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at the empty doorway, wondering why the familiar ache feels sharper tonight.

&

Alicia’s offer couldn’t come at a better time. “You need a reset,” she says, twirling her straw in her iced tea. “Seriously, this guy is perfect. Smart, funny, normal. Give it a shot.”

It’s not like you have anything better to do, so you agree.

The date is fine. Fine. Paul is nice—charming, even—but there’s no spark. By the end of the night, you’re both laughing about how you’d make better friends than anything else.

It’s late when you finally get home, the streets quiet and dimly lit. You’re fishing for your keys when you notice the shadow near your door.

Fred.

He’s leaning against the frame, his hands stuffed into his pockets. He looks up as you approach, his gaze flickering to the key in your hand before settling on your face.

“You’re out late,” he says, his voice casual.

“I had plans,” you reply, matching his tone as you unlock the door. You don’t elaborate, and neither does he.

Inside, the tension follows you, crackling in the air as you set your bag down and turn to face him. He’s watching you, his expression neutral but his shoulders taut, like he’s holding something back.

“How were the plans?” he asks, his voice steady, but there’s an edge to it you can’t quite place.

“They were fine,” you say. “We’re better off as friends.”

He nods, his lips pressing into a thin line, and for a moment, you think that’s the end of it. But then he’s stepping closer, his hands finding your waist like they always do.

This time, it’s different. His kisses are rougher, his grip firmer, but there’s something else underneath it—a quiet desperation, like he’s trying to claim something without admitting it. His hands linger longer, his lips move slower, and you let yourself lean into it, pretending not to notice the shift.

Afterward, he’s quiet again, lying beside you in the dark. The air feels heavier, and you can sense the walls going back up before he even moves to get dressed.

As he pulls on his shirt, he pauses, standing by the door with his back to you. For a moment, it seems like he’s about to say something, but instead, he runs a hand through his hair and exhales softly.

Then, just before he leaves, he glances back over his shoulder, his gaze flickering to yours. “Let me know when you’re too busy.”

It’s barely a whisper, so quiet you almost miss it. But there’s something in the way he says it, something unsaid lurking beneath the words, that lingers long after he’s gone.

You sit there in the dark, replaying the moment over and over, wondering why it feels like he just said goodbye.

&

Angelina’s birthday party is already in full swing by the time you stumble through the door, only half-committed to being there. The laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses—it’s all too loud, too bright, too much.

But you came anyway, maybe out of habit, or maybe because part of you hoped you’d find a distraction in the chaos.

Fred is here. You noticed him immediately. He’s impossible not to notice, leaning against the bar, his easy smile tugging at something in your chest you’ve been trying to ignore. He hasn’t come near you, hasn’t even spared you more than a glance. But that glance—it felt like it saw too much.

You bury your feelings in your drink, letting the bitterness of it settle the knots in your stomach. It doesn’t help.

“Alright, what’s with the face?” Alicia’s voice cuts through the noise as she drops onto the couch beside you. “You look like someone just ran over your cat.”

“I’m fine,” you lie, swirling the last of your drink. “Just…thinking.”

“About your nonexistent love life again?” she teases, nudging your shoulder. “Seriously, you need to loosen up. Or at least stop picking all the wrong people.”

You force a laugh, but it feels hollow. Alicia doesn’t know. No one does. You’ve kept Fred a secret, just as he asked. The weight of it presses heavier tonight, threatening to spill over as you down the rest of your drink and reach for another.

As the night goes on, the alcohol blurs the edges of everything. Faces blend together, voices turn to static, and you’re left moping in the corner, the ache in your chest louder than any song playing.

Fred’s there, somewhere. You’ve caught glimpses of him—his easy posture stiffened, his smile more strained than usual. But he doesn’t approach, and you don’t give him the satisfaction of looking too long.

By the end of the night, most people have left, and the crowd has thinned out. You’re sitting on the couch, staring at the bottom of your empty glass, when a shadow falls over you.

“Let’s get you home,” Fred says, his voice low but firm.

You look up at him, the alcohol dulling your usual instincts. “I don’t need your help.”

“Yes, you do.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but there’s something gentler in his gaze, something that makes your chest tighten.

You don’t resist when he helps you up, his arm steady around your waist as he guides you out the door. The walk home is quiet, the chill of the night air biting at your skin. Fred doesn’t say much, and neither do you, but the silence feels heavier than usual.

When you finally reach your flat, he helps you inside, sitting you down on the couch as he disappears into the kitchen. He returns with a glass of water, kneeling in front of you.

“Drink,” he says simply.

You take the glass, your hands shaking slightly as you bring it to your lips.

“Fred,” you start after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. “Stay.”

He looks at you, startled by the request. “I—”

“Please.” The word spills out before you can stop it, raw and pleading. “Just for the night. I don’t want to be alone.”

He hesitates, his expression flickering between something unreadable and something achingly vulnerable. Then, finally, he nods. “Alright.”

Relief washes over you as he helps you to your feet again, guiding you to your bedroom. He’s careful as he tucks you into bed, his hand lingering briefly on your shoulder before he steps back.

“You’ll stay?” you ask again, your voice softer now.

“I’ll stay,” he promises, his voice low and steady.

You don’t remember falling asleep.

When you wake up, the room is quiet, the sunlight streaming through the curtains. For a moment, you lie there, disoriented, the haze of last night still clinging to your thoughts.

Then you notice it—the bed is empty.

Your stomach drops, a hollow ache blooming in your chest as you sit up. The other side of the bed is cool to the touch, and for a moment, you wonder if he left as soon as you fell asleep. The ache sharpens, and you feel foolish for believing he’d actually stay.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you bury your face in your hands. Of course, he left. Of course, this is what it always is with him—half-hearted promises and fleeting moments that never mean as much as you want them to.

It’s only when you lower your hands that you notice it.

A glass of water and a small packet of painkillers sit neatly on the nightstand.

Your breath catches as you reach for the glass, the pieces falling together in your mind. The bed might be cool now, but the faint warmth lingering on the pillow tells a different story.

And then you hear it—the faint click of your front door closing.

Your chest tightens, your heart pounding as you realize the truth: Fred stayed. He kept his promise.

The ache in your chest softens, replaced by something you can’t quite name. It’s not relief, not entirely. It’s something more fragile, more complicated.

He stayed.

And for now, that’s enough.

&

The pub feels suffocating tonight, the air heavy with laughter and music that’s a touch too loud. You’re sitting at the edge of the booth again, nursing the remnants of your drink while the conversation at the table flows around you. Fred is there too, only a few feet away but worlds apart, as always.

At least, that’s how it’s supposed to be.

But tonight, something is different. You’ve caught him looking at you more than once, a flicker of warmth in his gaze that lingers just a moment too long before he turns away.

And then there are the little things—how he slid the drinks menu your way when you couldn’t reach, the casual way his hand brushed yours when passing the salt, and the faint smirk on his lips when you dropped your napkin, like he found your clumsiness amusing.

It’s maddening. These small, almost imperceptible gestures that would mean nothing if it were anyone else, but with Fred, they feel like everything.

You glance his way now, trying not to linger. He’s leaned back in his chair, his long fingers drumming lazily against the table, his attention seemingly on George, who’s telling some animated story about a prank gone wrong. But then, as if he feels your eyes on him, Fred looks up.

The corners of his mouth twitch, and there it is again—that fleeting, private smile that feels like it’s meant just for you.

It’s a cruel kind of softness. The kind that makes you want more.

“Leaving soon?” His voice pulls you back, low enough that it barely cuts through the noise, and you realize he’s speaking to you.

Your heart skips. You shrug, trying to feign indifference. “Maybe. You?”

His smirk deepens, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Not yet.”

The words hang between you, unspoken but understood. The plan forms, unspoken as always. You’ll leave first, and he’ll follow.

When the clock creeps toward midnight, you push yourself up, offering the table a vague excuse about an early morning. Fred doesn’t look at you, but you can feel the tension, the way his fingers still against the table as you grab your things and step into the cool night air.

The sharp contrast of the quiet street is a relief at first, but it doesn’t last. Your thoughts churn, the familiar mix of guilt and longing rising to the surface. You shake your head, trying to focus on the walk home when you see her.

Leah.

She’s leaning against the wall just outside the pub, her arms crossed, the faint glow of a cigarette in her hand. She looks up when she hears you, her face illuminated by the streetlamp above.

“Hey,” she says, her tone casual but her gaze sharp.

You freeze, your chest tightening. “Hey.”

Her lips quirk into something that’s not quite a smile, and she takes a slow drag of her cigarette before exhaling, the smoke curling into the air between you.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she says, tilting her head slightly.

She must’ve watched you—you hadn’t even noticed her in the pub. Had Fred?

You force a shrug, your voice tight. “Long day.”

She hums, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Fred seemed to have been distracted too. Must’ve been one of those days for everyone, huh?”

The mention of his name sends a jolt through you, but you keep your expression as neutral as you can manage. “Yeah, maybe.”

Leah watches you for a moment longer, her gaze unsettlingly calm. She takes another drag before flicking the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under her heel. “You two seemed friendly tonight.”

Your stomach twists, but you don’t falter. “We’re all friends, aren’t we?”

Her lips press together, her expression unreadable. “Sure.”

The pub door swings open, the sound spilling into the street, and your heart sinks as Fred steps out. His hair is a little messy, his face flushed from the warmth of the pub. He glances around, his eyes landing on you almost immediately.

“There you are,” he says, his tone light as he steps closer. “What’s taking so long? I thought you’d—”

His words die as his gaze shifts, landing on Leah.

His smile falters, and for a moment, the easy confidence he always carries slips. “Leah.”

“Fred,” she says smoothly, her tone neutral but her eyes sharp as they flick between the two of you.

He straightens, shoving his hands into his pockets as the tension thickens.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice tighter now.

You feel like the air has been sucked out of your lungs. You glance between them, your chest tightening. You can’t do this. The weight of the secrecy, the guilt, the unspoken accusations—it’s too much.

“I was just leaving,” you say quickly, your voice steadier than you feel.

Fred’s gaze snaps to you, his brow furrowing. “Wait—”

“I’ll see you later,” you cut him off, stepping away before either of them can stop you.

You won’t see him later, you’re sure of it.

The last thing you hear as you walk away is Fred’s voice, quieter now but still tinged with something you can’t quite place.

“Leah, we should talk.”

You don’t look back. You can’t.

&

You’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The faint hum of the city outside is no comfort tonight. It’s too quiet, too still, and your mind refuses to stop racing.

You picture them together—Fred and Leah. You imagine their conversation, her calm but sharp gaze and his uneasy expression. Maybe they’re sitting close, voices low and familiar, smoothing over the jagged edges of their breakup. Maybe they’ll work things out. Maybe they’re already back together.

The thought is a knife to the chest, twisting deeper with every passing second. You roll onto your side, pulling the blankets tighter around you, but it doesn’t help. The ache is relentless, carving itself into every corner of your heart.

Hours pass. The clock on your nightstand glows faintly, marking the time you’ve spent wide awake. 2:47 a.m. Your body is heavy with exhaustion, but your mind won’t let you rest.

You try to reason with yourself. Fred never promised you anything. This was always supposed to be casual, meaningless—a fleeting distraction for both of you. You knew that. You agreed to it.

And yet.

A sharp knock cuts through the silence, jolting you upright. For a moment, you freeze, your breath catching in your throat.

Another knock.

You stumble out of bed, heart pounding, and shuffle to the door. When you open it, Fred is standing there, his hair disheveled, his shirt wrinkled like he’d left in a hurry. The faint light of the hallway casts shadows across his face, but his eyes are clear, intense.

You can’t speak. You just step aside, and he walks in without a word.

The door closes behind him, the lock clicking softly into place. He turns to you, his gaze searching, but whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t say. He just steps closer, his hands brushing against your arms before they settle on your waist, pulling you toward him.

There are no questions, no explanations. Just his mouth on yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing the way you feel.

It’s different this time.

The usual rush of urgency is gone, replaced by something quieter, softer. He touches you like you’re fragile, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he’s not careful. His hands linger, tracing patterns on your skin, and his lips trail down your neck with an almost reverent slowness.

When he lifts you, carrying you to the bed, it’s not hurried or thoughtless. He lays you down gently, his weight pressing into you as his lips find yours again.

It’s almost too much. The tenderness, the quiet intensity—it’s overwhelming in a way that makes your chest ache.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is goodbye. If this is Fred’s way of ending things, giving you something to remember before he walks away for good.

The thought makes your throat tighten, but you don’t stop him. You can’t.

When it’s over, you lie there in the dark, the sheets tangled around you, his arm draped loosely over your waist. His breathing is steady, his body warm against yours, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is enough. That this could be enough.

But then he stirs, pulling away.

You turn to watch him as he sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t look at you as he stands, gathering his clothes and pulling them on with quiet efficiency.

Your chest tightens, but you don’t say anything. You just watch as he moves to the door.

He hesitates, his hand on the knob, and for a moment, you think he might say something. But he doesn’t. He just turns back to you, his expression unreadable, and steps closer.

He leans down, pressing his lips to your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss.

It’s the kind of tenderness he’s never shown before, the kind that makes your heart break even as it swells.

When he pulls back, his eyes meet yours for a brief moment. There’s something there, something unspoken, but before you can grasp it, he’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind him, and you’re alone again.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the ache in your chest heavier than ever.

This is goodbye, you think.

You close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come.

&

The weeks without Fred are a blur of emotions, each one more exhausting than the last. Some days, you manage to feel like yourself again, like the world might not actually end without him. Other days, the grief hits you like a wave, dragging you under with the weight of all the unsaid words and the things you wished could’ve been.

Your friends help, of course. Alicia keeps you busy with plans you don’t want to make, and Angelina sends you pep talks at odd hours of the night. But there’s a hollow ache they can’t touch, a space inside you carved out by Fred and left empty when he walked away.

You try to fill it with distractions—new books, long walks, even the occasional half-hearted date—but nothing works. Because no matter what you’re doing, your thoughts always circle back to him. To the warmth of his hands, the sound of his laugh, the way he looked at you that night before he left.

The worst part is the silence.

For weeks, there’s no word from Fred. No knocks at your door, no teasing notes slipped under the frame. He’s just… gone. And while you tell yourself that’s what you wanted—that it’s for the best—you can’t stop wondering where he is. What he’s doing. If he’s with her.

And then, one day, the silence breaks.

It’s mid-afternoon, and you’re home, though you have no memory of how you spent the morning. The hours have blurred together in a haze of restless pacing and half-formed thoughts, none of which have brought you any peace.

When the knock comes, you almost don’t hear it. It’s soft, tentative, like the person on the other side isn’t sure they’re welcome.

Your heart stutters.

You tell yourself it’s probably Alicia or Angelina, or maybe even Leah. But when you open the door, it’s Fred.

He looks different in the daylight. There’s no mischievous grin, no late-night bravado. Just him, standing on your doorstep, his shoulders tense and his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Hi,” he says, his voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it.

You stare at him, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or slam the door in his face. “What are you doing here?”

Fred shifts, glancing past you into the flat before meeting your gaze again. “Can I come in?”

You want to say no. You want to tell him to leave, to take all the chaos and heartbreak he’s brought into your life and walk away for good. But instead, you step aside, letting him in.

Fred moves to the middle of the room and stops, his eyes scanning the space like he’s trying to memorize it. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t relax, just stands there, his weight shifting from foot to foot.

“I didn’t know if you’d let me in,” he admits after a moment.

“Why are you here, Fred?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

His eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place—guilt, maybe, or fear. “I needed to see you. To explain.”

“Explain what? That you left? That you couldn’t give me what I wanted? What I needed?” Your voice wavers, betraying the anger you’ve been holding onto for weeks.

Fred flinches but doesn’t look away. “Yes. All of it.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I was a mess when we started this,” he says finally, his voice low and steady. “Leah and I were over, but I wasn’t okay. I told myself I didn’t want anything serious, that I couldn’t handle it. And then you…”

You hold your breath, waiting for him to continue.

“You made me feel like I could handle it,” Fred says, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And that scared me. It made me feel wrong, like I was moving on too fast. Like I didn’t deserve it.”

You blink, his words sinking in.

“I pushed you away because I was scared,” he admits, meeting your eyes again. “But that doesn’t excuse what I did. I hurt you, and I hate myself for it.”

You swallow hard, your throat tight. “And now? Are you still scared?”

“Yes,” Fred says without hesitation. “But I’m more scared of not being with you. Of letting you slip away because I was too much of a coward to fight for this.”

Your breath catches, your chest tightening with a mix of hope and fear. “And what happens when it gets hard again? When you start to feel like it’s too much?”

Fred takes a step closer, his expression earnest. “Then I’ll tell you. And we’ll figure it out together. Because I’m done running, and I’m done pretending this doesn’t mean something.”

The sincerity in his voice is almost too much. You look away, your hands trembling as you try to keep your emotions in check.

“What are you asking for, Fred?” you whisper.

He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might not answer. Then he reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. “I’m asking for a chance. To do this right. To give you what you’ve always deserved.”

You close your eyes, his words washing over you like a wave.

“Okay,” you say finally, your voice barely audible. “But we take it slow. No more secrets, no more running. We do this the right way.”

Fred nods, a small, relieved smile breaking through his tension. “Slow. Got it.”

He steps back then, extending a hand like he’s meeting you for the first time. “Hi. I’m Fred. Nice to meet you.”

You laugh, the sound a little shaky but genuine. “Nice to meet you, Fred.”

For a moment, you let yourself smile, the tension in your chest loosening just a little. Then you glance at his outstretched hand, raising an eyebrow. “Though I have to say, you look a lot like this guy I used to know. Total pain in the arse, but surprisingly charming when he wanted to be.”

Fred grins, his eyes lighting up in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat. “Well, I’m hoping I’m nothing like him. He sounds awful.”

“He was,” you say, shaking his hand firmly. “But I think you might be an improvement.”

Fred laughs, the sound warm and unrestrained, and for the first time in weeks, you feel like you can breathe again.