#me when i am never the one someone is really into

[magicalpuppet]

"Are you new here? I’m new too." What if the one she met wasn't Frank at all?

If somebody is interested in the madness “theory”, I'll put it right under here.

Keep in mind before continuing: this is straight up just a theory/headcanon, I'm gonna share it without any other purpose than having fun theorizing. I put some points you can follow, I am sorry this is gonna be long and crazy.

So, I believe the puppet Julie met could be...Wally.

This whole madness was caused by Julie's story in the video "regard forgetfulness silence"...

The memory The way Julie is speaking seems off to me, as well as the way she recounts her first meeting with Frank.

She "think" that's how she met him, isn't it strange she can't recall precisely how she met the dearest puppet to her?

We know Julie have difficulties with her memory, but she seems to remember stuff that happened when hanging out with Frank, why the most important moment is so unclear to her?

This could mean that she can't remember the interaction correctly and that her memories are being heavily corrupted by something or that the whole thing is made up by someone.

The encounter

Even the encounter is iffy, the puppet she met doesn't seems to speak like Frank Does.

"Are you new here? I'm new too. My name is Frank"

This speech pattern sound more similar to Wally to me.

And after that, she says that he made a corny joke and she laughed at it, we know that Frank is not really the one who tells jokes. Heck, he is not even good at telling them.

You could argue about Wally and jokes too, he's not very skilled at telling them after all, but I can imagine two scenarios: -Him speaking normally and not realizing he is saying something funny to her. (this could apply to Frank too)

-His best friend love to tell jokes and we know that Barnaby encourage Wally to chat and tell jokes to the Neighbors, it could be that noticing she was scared he tried to tell a joke to her.

The fruit basket

Okay now I am really looking into stuff, I know, but why would Frank bring a big fruit basket around? Julie says it's because he was going to say hi to her but we know the friendliest neighbor in the whole place is Wally itself. Wouldn't it make more sense for him to be the one going to say hi?

The fruit basket could also just be related to Wally going out into the woods to paint a still life since he is a painter.

“Was he mad?”

She was worried that "Frank" was mad at her when they met.

Strange, because Frank emotions are very easy to read, he's a very expressive puppet. We also know that when he feel a very strong emotion (like being mad) his head spins. Why she would question it? If it was Wally, his emotions are more difficult to read and it could be that she didn't understood his intentions immediately.

Wally itself

The fact she bring up Wally while recalling Frank's meeting is strange too. She says she met Wally the same day, why not meeting the whole neighborhood then? Maybe it was just them at the beginning and it would make sense in that case.

But Wally comes up at the end of the audio asking "Did all that really happen, Julie?" like he is asking her like all of that was made up or straight up incorrect.

Aaand I'm done! I'm not even sure any of this makes sense to anyone else, but it was stuck with me since the update and I wanted to draw it and share it.

Maybe it was Frank, maybe it was really Wally, maybe it never happened in the first place but... Everything sound too strange to be as the story says.

And don't get me wrong with all of this! I love Frank and Julie relationship a lot, I am not going against them in any way. I like to go deep inside the stories I am following and I speculate a lot about stuff! (Also I wanna apologize if my english is not the best, it's not my first language)

[dryococelas01]

1. Yes

2. My mum. Look at answer 1

3. So many things. Mostly dumb and embarrassing stuff as a teen. Not starting transition years ago and not doing so now.

4. Incredibly

5. Single

6. I don't. But if I had to... in a way that I would be remembered.

7. Ketchup and hot perinaise in a wrap. I... will not explain why.

8. Not really. Used to swim a lot but can't for medical reasons

9. All the time.

10. So far back I can't remember

11. Romantically? No. Not right now.

12. Too many times. Twice in the last month.

13. Strongly dislike yes. Not yet hate

14. Family

15. Gecko, snake. Want some beetles maybe.

16. Tired and with a rough stomach.

17. No.

18. Not incredibly.

19. Yes. Transition. And maybe like... kill Hitler. Mostly transition.

20. Never have

21. Work. Been procrastinating last few days and headache and need to get it done.

22. No strong desire but not against. Depends what my partner wants. If I do though I'd prefer at 3 minimum, 4 maximum. A lot I know but it works well in my experience, sibling dynamics wise. Am a 4 child family myself, know 3 and 4 child ones, they all seem to function well compared to the ones I know with fewer or more.

23. No

24. Biology chemistry maths

25. Isn't this 14 again? Uh... I would like to meet my 'girlfriend' from when I was 14 again as I was kinda shit about the break up. Want to apologise.

26. Sleep. Pizza.

27. That girlfriend situation mentioned at 25.

28. No.

29. See 25 and 27. Though we had broken up at the time so idk if it counts.

30. Sleep and work issues. Mentally having trouble working.

31. I fucking hope so.

32. Green, one of the greens that's not quite turquoise but has a bit of blue in it.

33. Yes

34. Dont remember

35. Mum

36. Perhaps? Hard to say. Don't socialise enough for it to be relevant, to my dismay.

37. Forgive. It is hard to forget at times.

38. Fuck no

39. I'll get back to you when

40. No. What. No.

Missing 41 to 50 it seems? Or I can't see them. Anyway

51. Carrot cake.

52. Cause and effect yes. Spiritually? Idk

53. Wrote a few lines of a fic ill probably never publish.

54. If it is not an actual relationship in my opinion. I.e if a partner is abusive, is themself cheating etc. Or if its consensual cheating (like a cuckoldry kink thing), but that's a whole different can of worms and comes to the question of if that would count as cheating

55. I can be a bit sour. Idk if I'd call myself mean.

56. None

57. Yes.

58. Snow

59. See above.

60. Yes.

61. Never experienced it... potentially. Not my first choice of pet name but itd get me blushing.

62. Good company

63. Nah my names great.

64. Hard to kiss nothing mate. Unless you count non romantic kisses, gave my mum a kiss on the cheek recently. She's like a 5 hour drive away and I can't drive though.

65. My closest friend of the opposite sex is engaged. So if she approached me id probably tell her fiance whose another close friend. But if we are talking hypotheticals, like a fictional new closest friend (let's call them andy). I'll go along with it I guess! Clearly yet along with them.

66. Yes

67. My PhD supervisor

68. My best male friend.

69. Nah. Hogwash.

70. Family. Friends. David Attenborough (jk). If someone would die otherwise... I'd jump in I think. There'd be reticence but yeah. So that nebulous other person.

70 horrible questions ... Fuck it

01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents? 02: Who did you last say “I love you” to? 03: Do you regret anything? 04: Are you insecure? 05: What is your relationship status? 06: How do you want to die? 07: What did you last eat? 08: Played any sports? 09: Do you bite your nails? 10: When was your last physical fight? 11: Do you like someone? 12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours? 13: Do you hate anyone at the moment? 14: Do you miss someone? 15: Have any pets? 16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment? 17: Ever made out in the bathroom? 18: Are you scared of spiders? 19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? 20: Where was the last place you snogged someone? 21: What are your plans for this weekend? 22: Do you want to have kids? How many? 23: Do you have piercings? How many? 24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)? 25: Do you miss anyone from your past? 26: What are you craving right now? 27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart? 28: Have you ever been cheated on? 29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry? 30: What’s irritating you right now? 31: Does somebody love you? 32: What is your favourite color? 33: Do you have trust issues? 34: Who/what was your last dream about? 35: Who was the last person you cried in front of? 36: Do you give out second chances too easily? 37: Is it easier to forgive or forget? 38: Is this year the best year of your life? 39: How old were you when you had your first kiss? 40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked? 51: Favourite food? 52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason? 53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night? 54: Is cheating ever okay? 55: Are you mean? 56: How many people have you fist fought? 57: Do you believe in true love? 58: Favourite weather? 59: Do you like the snow? 60: Do you wanna get married? 61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby? 62: What makes you happy? 63: Would you change your name? 64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed? 65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? 66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around? 67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to? 68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? 69: Do you believe in soulmates? 70: Is there anyone you would die for?

[kxsagi]

slept through 12 of my 30 timers but the other 28 timers woke me from my coma-like slumber

I have come, with a Request 😋 Ahem.

Blue lock boys with a Reader who they're really publicly even close with, and not just friends kind of close, but so close that everyone automatically assumes they're dating, and the blue lock boys don't deny it because they are like head over heels.

But in truth, while they do all the couple stuff with reader and even live with her, reader is completely oblivious and calls it normal best friend stuff and the blue lock boys are absolutely frustrated. preferably with sae, rin, kaiser, otoya and whoever else you want (•⩊•)

“𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦”

a/n: this concept is so juicy omg i am here for it 🤤

also sleeping through your timers is so real i fear

ft. itoshi sae, itoshi rin, kaiser michael, otoya eita, bachira meguru, mikage reo, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, ness alexis, karasu tabito

itoshi sae

“we’re just best friends” you say, as sae spoons you on the couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

he’s been in love with you for years, but the second you moved in together and started calling it “platonically sharing rent,” he realized god was testing him. 

cooks you breakfast every morning. lets you eat off his plate. lets you steal his clothes. still gets annoyed when you call him your “best bro.” 

one time you kissed his cheek in public as a joke. it trended in spain with the headline “sae itoshi’s mysterious lover.” 

he didn’t deny it. 

“what do you mean we’re not dating?” he finally asks one night, deadpan, while you’re brushing your teeth. 

“wait, you thought we were?” 

he has never known heartbreak until this moment. 

and yet he still brings you a blanket and tucks you in after. 

he’s in too deep. 

itoshi rin

touch-starved menace who lets you touch him because it’s you. 

he doesn’t do this with anyone else. no one gets to poke his cheek. no one gets to play with his hair while he’s gaming. no one gets to walk around in his clothes except you. 

he has confessed 3 times. you thought all 3 were jokes. 

“rin, i love you,” you once said while drunk and clinging to his arm. 

he nearly passed out on the spot. 

when you said the same thing to your cat 2 seconds later, he nearly passed away. 

he can’t even get mad at you. he just sulks for days. 

his entire team thinks you're dating. he gets called “whipped” on a weekly basis. 

refuses to correct anyone. actually glares at them harder if they imply otherwise. 

he will keep living in this delusion until you finally realize the truth and kiss him for real. 

kaiser michael

he literally introduces you as his girlfriend. and you just go with it. 

“oh that’s just kaiser being dramatic 😄” – girl. be serious. 

buys you matching necklaces and has his arm around you 90% of the time. you’re practically in his lap in every photo. 

fangirls ship you. he absolutely has a folder of fan edits of “[yourshipname]” on his phone. 

he flirts with you constantly. you flirt back. neither of you break character. 

you once called him your “platonic soulmate” and he nearly choked on his own spit. 

“you think soulmates are platonic now? you’re gonna kill me.” 

makes up fake anniversaries just to celebrate them with you. 

“happy 6-months-since-you-moved-in day.” 

“thanks, roomie 🥰” 

he screams into his pillow every night. 

otoya eita

biggest fake boyfriend energy ever. if he’s not dating you, then what IS he doing? 

you sleep in the same bed. you call him “babe” when you're joking. his hand is always on your waist. and you still insist you’re just besties. 

he’s so down bad it’s physically painful. 

once introduced you to someone as his “partner” and you were like “awww you mean like crime partners 🤭” 

he cried. 

flirts with you shamelessly. you think it’s all jokes. it’s not. he’s suffering. 

everyone is convinced you’re in love. otoya included. 

but when he finally tries to kiss you during a movie night and you pause to ask “wait are we doing couple stuff or friend stuff rn?” 

he literally malfunctions. 

“i’m gonna die alone.” 

still cuddles you to sleep tho. he’s not gonna pass that up. 

bachira meguru

he’s your best friend! your little monster boy! your cuddle buddy! your ENTIRE BOYFRIEND WHO YOU SOMEHOW HAVEN’T NOTICED IS IN LOVE WITH YOU. 

everyone around you assumes you're dating. he draws you into his selfies, brings you to press events, and kisses your forehead like it's second nature. 

and you? you just giggle and say “haha he’s just silly like that!” 

he’s not silly. he’s desperate. 

literally introduces you to his mom as “the one.” 

still doesn’t correct you when you say “we’re just roommates lol.” 

he’s a patient man. he will wait. 

but one day he absolutely grabs your face and is like, “just to be clear. if i kiss you right now… are we still ‘just friends’ orrrr…?” 

pray for him. 

mikage reo

treats you like royalty. buys you flowers. gets you jewelry. lets you use his black card. 

“my best friend deserves the world <3” 

SIR. 

sometimes you joke like “lol you treat me better than any boyfriend ever has!” and he’s like “good. because i’m better than any boyfriend.” 

he said what he said. 

his dad thinks you’re engaged to his son. 

honestly you act married. he picks you up from work. he brings you coffee. you share a bed in hotels. 

still you call it “normal roommate behavior” like you're not literally couple-coded in every single way. 

one day he just looks at you and goes, “you know you’re in love with me, right?” 

“what? no i’m not! i just like your face and your money and your company and your laugh and –” 

oh. 

isagi yoichi

this man is the most boyfriend-coded best friend to ever exist. 

he makes you snacks, helps you study, ties your shoelaces, and sleeps with his head on your lap. 

“aw thanks yoichi! you’re like the perfect bestie!” 

he dies a little inside every time. 

you share a blanket when you watch movies. he always lets you pick the show. he even paints your nails once during a rainy day. 

he’s one emotional breakdown away from fully confessing. 

but every time he tries, you say stuff like “we’re such a power duo omg, can’t believe we’re not dating lol!!” 

he laughs. nervously. 

he’s literally praying you realize it on your own. 

until then, he’ll just keep living the boyfriend life in silent agony. 

nagi seishiro

doesn’t understand how you don’t already know he’s in love with you. 

you sleep in the same bed. you share showers (not at the same time but STILL). he lets you feed him. 

you call it “roommate bonding.” 

he calls it “slow torture.” 

“you’re comfy,” he mumbles while clinging to you like a human pillow. 

“awww, besties for life 🫶” 

his soul leaves his body. 

he doesn’t want to put in effort to confess, but he will if you keep playing dumb. 

“hey. if i kissed you, would that be annoying?” 

you: “uh… no?” 

“cool.” 

and then he does it. 

that’s his version of a love letter. 

shidou ryusei

the most feral “not-boyfriend” ever. 

he’s not subtle. he wants to bite you, kiss you, claim you. 

and yet… you think he’s just “really passionate about friendship.” 

“you’re so weirdly loyal to me it’s cute.” 

loyal? LOYAL? he’s planning your WEDDING. 

lets you wear his chains. lets you ride on his back. lets you slap his abs and call him your “emotional support psychopath.” 

and still you won’t date him. 

“babe. we live together. we sleep together. you’ve literally shaved my jaw for me. what do i gotta do to make you realize?” 

you blink. “huh? realize what??” 

“i’m gonna eat drywall.” 

ness alexis

poor boy’s heart explodes every time you say “roomie bestie 💕” in public. 

he is in love with you in seventeen different languages. 

cooks for you, folds your laundry, sends you good morning texts from the other room. 

kaiser makes fun of him relentlessly. 

“isn’t she your girlfriend?” 

“i-i wish 😭” 

you once kissed his cheek and called it “friend appreciation.” 

he almost fainted. 

tried to write a love letter. ended up crying into it because he didn’t know how to start it without sounding desperate. 

“what’s the german word for ‘i think my best friend is my soulmate and it hurts’?” 

lives for the day you finally realize and hug him a little longer than usual. 

karasu tabito

king of fake chill. acts unbothered. is actually dying inside. 

he calls you “babe” for fun. you call him “bestie bae.” it’s a sick game. 

he flirts. constantly. you think he’s just being a clown. 

you’ll sit on his lap, steal his fries, and call it “classic friend behavior.” 

“girl. we slow-danced in the living room at 2 AM last night. what part of this is FRIEND behavior??” 

“bonding 😇” 

he wants to scream. 

his mom literally thinks you’re dating. she sends you gifts. he lets her. 

karasu tries to play it cool, but the moment you show any sign of returning his feelings, he’s ready with a full slideshow called “why we should date immediately (with charts).” 

your obliviousness is his villain origin story. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[milomelts]

Bet On Me

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader (she/her/afab)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+, no y/n use, italics

Note: bear with me cuz i havent written in months but first pitt fic 😈 send me them requests im currently obsessed lmao

also lowkey if anything is incorrect pls tell me cuz i am the proof reader round these parts 😭

——————————————

Jack Abbot had never really been addicted to anything. Sure he had an affliction for cigarettes for a while, and on more than one occasion, sought out the high after an adrenaline rush, but these weren’t things he necessarily needed.

What he did need was the constant. He was addicted to the pattern, your rhythm, it was as if his day wouldn’t start until you had said those four words.

“Wanna make a bet?” you’d smirk, talking in a hushed tone for him and only him to hear. It was addicting. Every single day you’d find him at the start of his shift no matter where he was, those four words ringing in his ears like a sweet song when he tried to fall asleep. Wanna make a bet.

He always did.

“What’s it today,” his hazel eyes would find yours, scanning your face. He’d let them linger on your lips just slightly too long before snapping them back up to your eyes, only to find you flittering back and forth between his. Surely you hadn’t noticed but you were always too observant.

“I bet,” you would trail off, eyes scanning around central as you searched for your latest victim. Sometimes he would swear that you were bribing people into your side just so he would lose the bet. “We get an overdose patient in the first hour.”

Abbot scoffs, pushing off the counter the two of you had been leaning on, running a hand through his hair as he ruminated on the bet. Too easy, that happened most nights, he could counter with something more rare but it would be risky. He turns back to you about to respond but his breath catches in his throat. You were looking up at him, head resting on the counter, hair falling over your shoulder revealing your neck, and those sweet innocent eyes were following every movement his hand made through his hair. Your teeth teased at your bottom lip as you bit them, a habit he found you doing when you were lost in thought or concentration.

“Too easy,” he shakes his head, bring you both back to the present as you stand up straight once again frowning. “How about broken clavicle before 4am?”

You make a noise of dissatisfaction, ruminating over how likely it was someone would come in with a broken bone at all, let alone the clavicle. Then adding in the time factor, it adds to the risk and…

“I can pick something easier if-”

“No, no!” you interject, a small smile working its way on your face. You always did love a risk. “Sounds perfect.”

Perfect. God you were gonna ruin him.

“Well what do you wanna wager, Dr. Abbot?” This was his favourite part. The way you say his name, dragging out every letter, making it sound like its dripping with honey. He wanted to hear you say it over and over and over again.

“Anything.” It slips out before he can stop himself, god he must have been tired already.

“Oh?” You laugh, that beautiful sound ringing in his ears as your eyes shine bright at him. He didn’t deserve you, your innocence, your energy. “How about a drink and a massage, I don’t think you could afford losing anymore money this week and my back is killing me.”

His head is spinning at this point and he barely registers you holding out your hand for him to shake. That meant you wanted to go back to his place. Just the two of you, a drink, god fuck. Shake her hand idiot.

He did, probably for slightly too long. Before he can pull away, you lean in closer to his ear with one last tease.

“I hope you’re good with your hands, Dr. Abbot.”

Then you’re off, skipping your way across central to take over rounds for the day shift. For you he could be good, his hands could be good he means. Please god let someone’s clavicle break.

Its not long before you’re swept away doing work up after work up. Even during the night shift it seemed there was a constant flow of patients, especially since it was a friday, various college kids who were blackout drunk or elderly patients that just got checked on before bedtime. You had finally sat down for the first time in what felt like hours after finishing the initial workup on an allergic reaction, ordering a shot of epinephrine for a girl who had one bad anniversary dinner. You were adding to her chart when you felt someone slide up beside you, light clicks coming from their own ipad as they typed up paitent charts.

“So,” Dr. Ellis began, a shit-eating grin spreads across her face as you glance up at her. “You and Doctor Abbot? What’s going on there?”

You can’t help but laugh with her, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” This wasnt the first time she had asked about your relationship, but you had insisted that despite how badly you wanted to see him at home in baggy grey sweats and messy curls, there was once again nothing going on. Definitely nothing at all.

“Right, so he’s just making heart eyes at you right now for fun?” She chided, beckoning you to look across the room with a tilt of her head.

You follow her motion across central and chills rake down your body as your eyes lock with Abbot’s. His hair was messy at this point, the way it always got around 2am with how often he tugged at it when he was stressed. God you wished it was you pulling at it instead. He tilts his head slightly, pulling your eyes back down to his and he smiles softly before tapping his watch and walking back to check on patients.

Instinctively you go to check the time, but Ellis beats you to it. “Nearly 4am, don’t tell me you guys have another bet going?”

“We always have a bet going,” you remind her, turning back to face her once again.

“In that case I hope you win,” she grins, returning both of your tablets to the main docking station and grabbing a new one for each of you. She passes you your tablet but pulls it back just before you can grab it, raising an eyebrow at you. “What did you wager?”

“Oh uhm,” You face flushes and you stand up, gingerly grabbing your tablet from her and shrugging as you rush back towards your patients. “Just the usual, money.”

“You know none of us believe that!!”

You face is flushed bright red as you check the vitals on your first bed. Stable BP, no blown pupils. Don’t look at your watch, dont do it. 3:48. Shit.

Next bed, paitent sleeping but stable vitals once again, still waiting for that head CT because of course they would be backed up at this time of night. Do not check the time. 3:52. Fuck.

By the time you’re at the third bed you can barely focus on checking charts and vitals, grumbling as you toss down your tablet at central and look towards the ambulance bay. 3:57.

You look around the room, eyes stopping when you catch Abbot staring at you once again. He glances down to his watch again, mirroring him you check yours one last time. 3:59. Your head whips up to find him, boots landing heavy on the ground as he stalks towards you interrupted by two medics bursting through the ambulance doors and you both rush towards them.

“37 year old female, car accident. Tenderness and pain coming from the upper chest, but stable vitals.” The medic rattles off as you and Abbot wheel the bed towards the first trauma bay.

Abbot’s hands press lightly over the patient’s neck and then down overtop their clavical where she’s winces in pain, groaning as he presses overtop the same spot again as you order pain meds. You start assisting with hooking up the various monitors, but your head snaps around when Abbot says your name.

“Looks like we have a broken clavicle,” he doesn’t want to smile, but can’t help the grin on his face when your eyes light up.

“Perfect,” you whisper out, catching a few strange glances from the other nurses in the room and you quickly reorient yourself. “I mean, let’s get her up for a scan!”

You nod to the other nurses as they take the bed out of the room, waiting for the doors to slide closed before you look up at Abbot again. You open your mouth to say something but your voice catches in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you -like a predator about to catch its prey.

“What do you like to drink?” He voice is low and gravely, only for you to hear. His eyes drop down to your lips and back up, once, twice, and you can see the rise and fall of his chest quicken.

“Just, uhm, just whatever is fine.” You squeak out, heart racing as he takes another step closer to you. He could get used to seeing you shy, seeing you blushing underneath him as he-

As he focused on the present like his therapist recommended. Jesus get a grip man.

“Wine okay?” His fingers are almost touching yours, and you gasp when they accidentally graze against your arm.

“Mmhm,” Your lips are sealed tight together and for just a moment you think maybe this was all a dream. That you had actually hallucinated this whole thing and finally gone crazy from the lack of sleep.

Just as Abbot opens his mouth to say more the doors to the trauma bay slide open and the two of you shoot apart like repelling magnets as the cleaning worker wheels in their cart to mop the floor. Abbot is rushing out before you can get another word in and you awkwardly apologize to the worker before hazily finding your way through central back to your desk.

“Five minutes tell we’re off, but judging by the fact that all your paients charts are caught up, one might assume you have somewhere to be.” The teasing tone causes you to groan and drop your head against your desk as Ellis rolls her chair up beside yours.

“Yeah my bed,” you lie, refusing to pick up your head to look at her as her eyes burn holes in you.

“So what did you win?” She lightly pushes your shoulder causing you to look over at her and break out in a fit of giggles. “The nurses say you were a little too excited for that broken clavicle.”

“Always with the gossip train,” you mutter, letting your hands slide down your face. “Fine, I may or may not have won drinkswithAbbot.” You hurriedly mumble out the last part, standing up quickly as you pull your jacket off the back of your chair and sling it over your shoulder. You had to get out of there before you got embarrassed anymore by Ellis, or god forbid, another nurse overheard your conversations.

“Oh you are gonna get a lot more than just drinks-“

“Good morning and night to you too Dr. Ellis,” you cut her off, bending at the knee in a little curtsy, before making your way out to the parking lot ignoring her cheers as the door slams behind you.

You weren’t entirely sure where you were supposed to meet up with Abbot, but as soon as your feet hit the pavement of the parking lot his were walking in step right behind you. He hovers his hand lightly over your lower back and guides you to turn down the first street as you head towards his apartment a light banter about the various patients you had seen during the night fills the air comfortably as you finally make it to his building.

Unsurprisingly his apartment was neat, almost bare which is expected considering most of his time was spent at the hospital, but there was still a warmth of home. Various books where sprawled out on the coffee table by his couch, surrounded by even more bookcases containing various movies, records, and you guessed it even more books. Of course he had a dvd player and all his favourites sitting on a shelf by his TV, once again reminding you that he was nearly twice your age.

You hear some glasses clink together behind you and you turn around to find Abbot pouring some red wine in each before meeting you on the couch. He sits down beside you, your breath hitching as his thighs touch yours and you involuntarily lean closer into him as you take the glass.

“Cheers to your win,” his voice is soft, it’s so quiet compared to the authority he exudes in the ER. He probably would talk you through it. You choke on the wine and cough, the red liquid spilling out onto your shirt.

“Shit,” you cough out, settling the glass down on the table as Abbot does the same, his hand coming up to your shoulder to steady you as you catch your breath through the coughs. “I’m so sorry, that’s so embarrassing!”

“No, it’s okay,” His reassures, hands coming up to steady your waist as you get through the fit of coughs.

“I swear I know how to drink,” you laugh out, eyes darting down to his fingers playing with the end of your shirt.

“If you want I have spare clothes,” he offers, once again toying with the edge of your shirt. His fingers dance along the hem before they slowly glide along your bare skin, causing you to gasp at the cold feeling.

Your face is centimeters away from his and you can’t help but dart your eyes from his hands up to his eyes, then his lips which are stained a deep red from the wine. A surge of confidence bubbles up in you and before you can lose it you find your hand coming up to cup his cheek bringing his eyes to yours.

“Well, I won’t be needing a shirt for my massage, right Dr. Abbot?”

That pushed him over the edge, pulling you into a rough kiss, teething clashing against each other. Your hands moved their way up to his locks, intertwining with those damn curls you had been so desperate to mess up before. He pulls away from you, tugging your bottom lip lightly between his teeth causing you to moan and you could see the fire light in his eyes.

You move closer to him, settling on top of his lap with your legs on either side of him, as he finally pulls off your top and unclips your bra letting them fall to floor. His mouth is back on you, trailing kisses down your neck till he reaches your collar bone. You let out a whine he bites down, sucking and smoothing the area over with his tongue over and over causing you to moan and grind down on him.

When he finally pulls back his pupils are blown out, lips puffy and red, he looks absolutely wrecked from just kissing you and you’re sure you look the same. He nods his head down, following his gaze you find a dark purple bruise forming on your clavicle where he had just been focusing his attacks.

“Jack!” you scold, noticing the way his hips jerk up into yours as you say his name. He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips from your reaction. He would mark your body over and over again, he wanted everyone to know you were his and his alone.

“Think it’s about time I fulfill the other part of that bet,” he’s quick to flip the two of you over causing you to gasp as you back hit the couch. Jack sinks to his knees in front of you, pulling off ur scrub bottoms and undies in one swoop, and positioning himself between your thighs.

Your hands are quick to find his salt and pepper hair as he kisses softly up your thigh till his nose was hitting right where you craved him. He licks a long stride up your slit and you whine, tossing your head back against the couch as he repeats the motion once more before kissing and nipping at your thighs again.

“Jack, please” you plea, just wanting him to give you anything. End the teasing and rail you over and over till you cried.

“Eyes on me baby,” He hummed, his hazel eyes cutting right through you as he finally returned his mouth to your cunt. It was an unspoken deal, the longer you held eye contact the more he would give you.

You watched his eyes scan your whole body, the way your back arched every time he added a finger, the way your brows would press together when he would brush against the right spots, he was always too damn observant. But god was he just drunk on you. He loved feeling your fingers tighten in his hair when he’d suck and lap at your clit and the way your eyes would close for just a moment before snapping back to his. He was addicted to this, to you.

By the time you were cumming he was wasted. The sweet sounds, the way your thighs were threatening to close around him, the blush coating your face threatening to drag down over your neck and chest. You were so beautiful, so perfect, and all for him.

“Jack,” your voice snapped his attention back to you, your eyes pricking with tears as he pulled away from your cunt, coming up to capture your lips with his. His hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt, breaking the kiss to toss it off, whilst your hands worked on untying his scrub pants and letting them fall to floor.

“You sure you want this?” Want him he means, everything that comes with him. If there was one other pattern that came with Jack Abbot other than an addiction to you, it was this. The feeling of burden.

“I want this,” your voice is hushed and you can see the way the statement softens his eyes, brows relaxing as he pulls you into another kiss, this one is less frantic, less rushed. A declaration of something neither of you wanted to label just yet, but a promise to each other.

He makes quick work of his boxers, spitting on his hand and pumping his length a few times before teasing your slit up and down, and finally pushing his full length into you. He lets out a deep groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you scratch along his back, wrapping your legs around him.

He reveled in the filthy noises you made as he began fucking in and out of your tight cunt, feeling your fingers dig into his back and pull at the curls on his neck. He was driving you insane, between the kisses and the lewd praises that streamed out of him like a memorized scripture.

“Such a good girl,” He’d repeat over and over, his good girl. “Your pretty hole is taking me so well.”

All you could do was whine out his name over and over, he was all you could think about. The pleasure he was giving you, the bruises he was decorating your collar with, the head of his dick kissing that sweet spot over and over. He held your hips down as he pounded into you, bringing one hand up to rub circles around your clit cause you to tighten around him, holding on to his biceps as you moan.

“Mm close, Jack” You could feel the way his arms tensed, dick twitching inside you signaling he was close too. He could cum just from hearing you say his name.

“Gonna cum for me?” He rasps out, practically out of breath when he takes in the sight of you. Pupils blown, hair sticking to your face, tears pricking at your eyes, and god, the way your pussy was taking his length so well, it was mesmerizing to watch. “Please, cum for me baby.”

Thats what sent you over the edge, the begging. He wanted every bit of you, would beg to have you, to please you. He continued fucking you through your high, finger slowing down on your clit till he was pulling out and painting your stomach white.

He falls to his knees in front of you, resting his head on your thigh as he looks up at you with a lazy grin, those beautiful hazel eyes finding yours. You watched as he caught his breath, eyes never leaving each other as you both came down, finally able to form coherent thoughts.

“Thank you,” you smile while reaching out a hand to card fingers through his messy hair. Of course you would say thank you after making him cum the hardest he ever has. Sweet, innocent you.

“Who said we were done yet?” He wasn’t letting you go that easy, not until the sun was setting again.

Maybe Robby could cover his shift tomorrow.

[loulou-land]

'Cause all of my enemies started out friends

So, I have no idea what this is, I just needed to work through some feelings. This was a challenge to write because its 95% dialogue heavy and that's never been my strong suit. But I really needed Tommy and Eddie to argue apparently. Fair warning, this isn't Eddie friendly, though I really tried not to go into character bashing. Please let me know if I need to include a warning for that.

Spoilers for 8x17 | arguing, mentions of grief, mild physical altercation, dialogue heavy, mild hurt/comfort | 1,625 words

“What did you say to him?” Tommy asks when he comes into the kitchen. 

“Oh, so now you’re talking to me?” Eddie doesn’t look at him, just keeps stacking dishes in the sink. 

Tommy folds his arms, keeping a careful distance. “You’re the one who cut ties, Diaz. And believe me, I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have to.” 

He hates that it’s come to this. Eddie had been a good friend—someone Tommy genuinely thought understood him. But then he’d dropped him without a word, like he was yesterday's trash. And yeah, that had hurt more than Tommy wants to admit. He gets it, loyalty is complicated, and Evan was Eddie’s best friend. Still, that doesn’t excuse whatever’s been going on between them lately. Not when it’s left Evan looking so small and acting skittish. 

Eddie scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means,” Tommy says, locking eyes with him, “I’m pretty sure Evan left a lot out when he told me what happened. He downplayed it. I can see it in how careful he is around you. Like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. So I’ll ask again—what did you say to him?” 

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters, shaking his head. “That’s what this is about? We had an argument. We moved past it—or at least I thought we did. But of course, Buck’s making it out to be bigger than it was. Making it all about him again. Has to be the one hurting the most.” 

Tommy stills. His voice, when it comes out, is quiet but razor sharp. “Is that what you told him? That he’s making it about himself?”  

Eddie finally looks at him, like he’s surprised Tommy’s even making an issue of this. 

“Eddie,” Tommy continues, voice tight with restraint, “Bobby died. His father in everything but blood. Evan’s allowed to hurt. However loud, however long he needs to. You don’t tell someone how to grieve.”

Something shifts in Eddie’s expression, turning defensive, bitter. “I lost Bobby too. And you—god, you don’t have any idea what that was like for me. For any of us. You’re not part of the 118. Not our 118.” 

The words cut straight through him, but Tommy doesn’t flinch. He takes a breath, rubs a hand through his hair, grounding himself. 

“You’re right. I’m not part of your family. But Bobby still meant something to me. And I was there Eddie. I might not have seen what it did to you, I saw what it did to Evan though. You didn’t—”

He pauses, remembering how helpless he felt, watching Evan break through a tiny screen, being unable to get to him. He meets Eddie’s stare, “You didn’t watch him fall apart.” 

“I should’ve been there,” Eddie says, sidestepping Tommy’s statement. Tommy wishes he could be surprised, but he’s starting to understand why Evan doesn’t feel like he can talk about his feelings. “I could’ve done something. I—”

Tommy lets out a bitter laugh. “I’m sorry, did I miss the part where you’re a miracle worker? A genius scientist with a cure in your back pocket?” 

Eddie squares his shoulders, puffing up with practiced intimidation. Tommy nearly rolls his eyes, but he knows baiting him won’t help. 

Still, Eddie stalks closer, jaw clenched. “Fuck you. You—”

“We all did what we could,” Tommy snaps, finally losing some of his own restraint. “I’m sorry you weren’t there. I really am. But don’t take your guilt out on Evan. He’s already drowning in his own and still trying to take care of everyone at the same time.”  

Eddie scoffs. “He’s spiraling, that’s what he is. And what the hell do you even know about Buck’s guilt? His pain?” he shoots back. “You dumped him. Left him.  And now what? He puts out one time and suddenly you think that gives you the right to waltz back in. He’s hurting, and you’re using that to your advantage.” 

Tommy’s whole body tenses. He can’t believe Eddie is insinuating he’s using Evan. That he would be that kind of person. And using the worst mistake he’d ever made, leaving Evan, against him? Something he’s regretted from the moment he left. 

He inhales sharply, fist clenched at his sides. Not because he’s thinking of swinging—never that. But the bite of his nails digging into his palms helps ground him. 

“Don’t you ever say that to my face again, Diaz. Or to Evan, for that matter,” he says, trembling with anger. “I’m here for him—in whatever way he needs me. I’m not asking for anything. I’m not expecting anything. Which is more that I can say for you.” 

Eddie reels back, nostrils flaring. His eyes flash angrily and Tommy braces himself. 

“No,” Eddie growls. “You don’t understand. Don’t pretend you know anything about our relationship.” 

“I know Evan!” Tommy interrupts. He refuses to let Eddie bait him with that dig. 

“You don’t know what Buck and I have been through. The bond we have. He’s like a brother to me.” 

Tommy stares at him, incredulous. “Brother?” He huffs out a sharp breath. “You barely treat him like a friend.” 

Eddie’s face twists. He jabs a finger toward Tommy’s face. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t talk about shit you don’t understand.” 

Tommy doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Just meets Eddie’s fury head-on. 

“Diaz,” he says, voice tightly controlled. “Back off, before I break that finger.” 

“I love Buck. He’s family,” Eddie snaps, using the words like a defense. Like that single word erases all the damage he’s done.

Tommy bites the side of his cheek to hold in his immediate response. He breathes through it. Damn it. He’s not going to throw a punch. Not at someone Evan still loves, still looks up to—even if they don’t deserve it right now. 

He won’t be the one to hurt the people Evan holds close. Not even when they’ve done plenty of damage themselves. 

Tommy exhales, slow and steady. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” 

“Excuse me?” Eddie asks, a hitch in his voice now. 

Tommy meets his eyes, unflinchingly. “You call it love, Eddie. But love doesn’t make someone feel like a burden. Love doesn’t kick you when you’re down. Love doesn’t twist the knife when they’re already bleeding.” 

The words seem to land like a strike. 

Eddie flinches, staggering back half a step like the air’s been punched from his lungs. 

For a second, Tommy thinks that’s it. That he’s finally gotten through to him. 

Maybe now Eddie will actually take a look at himself—really look—apologize to Evan, try to do better. 

He gives him too much credit. 

Eddie’s face hardens, shutters down—and then he comes swinging. It takes Tommy off guard. He moves, but not fast enough, and the punch clips him on the side of the head. He’s already bracing to restrain Eddie when—

“Stop!” 

They both turn toward the entryway, where Evan stands. He’s breathing hard, eyes wide, clearly upset. It’s obvious, he’s been there a while, listening. 

Tommy feels a wave of regret crash over him. He never wanted Evan to hear any of this, let alone witness them like this. 

“You should leave,” Evan says quietly. 

Tommy’s heart sinks—until he realizes Evan isn’t looking at him. He’s staring straight at Eddie. 

“Me? Are you serious right now?” Eddie asks, incredulous. 

“Yes, Eddie. You.” Evan’s voice is sharp, angry. “You swung at Tommy. What the hell?” 

“Oh, of course you’re taking his side,” Eddie mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“This isn’t about sides,” Evan snaps. “You need to cool off. Before you dig yourself an even bigger grave.” 

His voice shakes with fury, but there’s a note of something else underneath. Hurt, exhaustion. Tommy sees it in the tremble of Evan’s hands, the rigid way he’s holding himself upright. 

“Just…leave. Don’t come back unless you’re ready to talk like a civil person, and apologize. To Tommy. And…to me.” 

He meets Eddie’s eyes squarely, head held high. Tommy watches, quietly awed. He knows how much it’s costing Evan to say this, but he’s doing it anyway. 

Tommy turns to Eddie worriedly. He can see it—the poison gathering behind his teeth, just waiting to spew out. 

“Eddie,” Tommy says softly, tiredly. Almost pleading. “Please. Take a walk.” 

Eddie glances between them. Something finally sinks in, because the fight drains out of him. He turns without another word and walks out the back door. The door slamming shut behind him. 

Tommy exhales in relief. He looks at Evan, who’s still watching the door with a sad, distant expression. 

“Hey,” Tommy says gently. “I’m sorry.” 

Evan frowns, eyes welling with tears. “Tommy, you don’t have anything to apologize for. You—” he pauses, swallowing hard. “You stood up for me.” His voice cracks on the last word. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Tommy doesn’t hesitate. He moves toward him, and Evan meets him halfway. They fall into each other, hugging tightly, grounding themselves in each other. Tommy runs a soothing hand down Evan’s back, trying to steady the tremors in his body. 

After a long moment, Evan whispers, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that. I…I could’ve done it. But th—thank you.” 

“Anytime,” Tommy says fiercely. “I’m here for you.” 

Evan shudders, then pulls back slightly, offering him a small, smile. “I know.” 

He squeezes Tommy’s hand, then glances down at his lips. 

Tommy lifts his hands, cradling Evan’s face gently, and kisses him softly. 

They stay there, foreheads pressed together, breathing in sync, taking comfort in each other. 

They’ll have to deal with Eddie later. Sift through the wreckage and make sense of where they go from here. But for now, it’s enough that they have one another. They’re in this together. 

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[11:57 am]

(cw: f!reader, profanity, mentions of sex and other heated scenarios, spin off of this)

Realistically, the last thing you'd expected from a Halloween make out with your best friend, fratboy!Haechan, was a friends with benefits situation. Especially after you both confessed your feelings for each other. You didn't feel like you should be the one to initiate the conversation about being official either. Like, hello?! You'd been the one to start the actual physical intimacy! You weren't the type of girl to go around and make out with just anyone!

You figured you were at least a little bit, the very slightest bit, also guilty for how long this... arrangement was going on. Could you really help it when he was just so eager to be affectionate? You were weak to his whining and begging. Your excuses for coming over to play video games or study weren't even actually believable anymore. Really, it was more like you were trying to convince yourself.

And that was the reason today. When you'd ducked upstairs without so much as a "hi" sent to the guys that were downstairs. An hour later when you both emerged from his room with swollen lips, wrinkled clothes, and messy hair, it became very obvious that no studying was going on at all.

Not that any of the guys ever believed it anyway. Sure, there was no shame behind closed doors. They guys know there's no shame. At all. You two passionate freaks are never quiet. Never. Even in front of them, Haechan never shies away from incessantly flirting or kissing you. So yeah, those excuses are really just for you.

Now though, you're leaned against the kitchen island, snacking on some chips and sipping on water after a very long and heated session of... whatever it was that happened in Haechan's room. To be honest, the second his lips touched your own, your brain melted and your sole purpose became to follow wherever he led you.

He was glued to your back, body pressed closely against your own as he slumped against you and blinked slowly, opening his mouth for you to feed him with a soft, "ahh" right in your ear when he wanted more. When his mouth wasn't busy with chewing, he was pressing soft, wet kisses on the side of your neck shamelessly.

"What the hell is going on in here?" You hear someone ask.

Slowly, probably because your mind isn't working to its full ability yet, you turn your head to find Johnny standing in the doorway with a look of disgust. You pop another chip between your lips before very casually asking, "we're snacking. Do you want some?"

"Yeah, he's snacking on your neck right now. I'm so confused right now," Johnny sighs with a shake of his head. He walks over to the fridge and gets himself his own water before leaning on the opposite end of the counter with a scrutinous gaze. He shakes a pointed finger between you and Haechan, "so what is this?"

Haechan gently sinks his teeth into the slope of your shoulder to draw a shiver from you before pulling away with an annoyed sigh, "bro, can my smoking hot girlfriend and I get some peace or are you going to stand there and judge like a freak?"

Your brain finally starts to catch up right then and it shows on your face as your brows furrow with confusion, "I'm not your girlfriend."

Haechan freezes, turning your body so you can meet his confused gaze. "Uhhh yes you are, that's why we just had sex in my room," Haechan points out.

"You never asked me to be your girlfriend!" You argue.

"So what happened on Halloween when we made out in my room? I told you I liked you and had a crush on you since I first saw you so what the hell was that to you then?"

"That was you telling me you liked me and me showing you I liked you too, but you have never asked me to be your girlfriend!"

"Was that not implied?! We literally make out, we have sex, we go on dates. I send you pictures of be in the shower-"

Johnny chokes on his water, "oh, gross dude."

Haechan's scream of, "why are you still here?" overlaps your voice as you explain, "he sends me selfies of his shampoo mohawk."

Johnny can only laugh to himself as he leaves the kitchen. Haechan is left to cup your cheeks with a grip that expresses his absolute desperation, "are you doing this with other people? Please say no."

"No!" you exclaim, "are you?"

"I thought you were my girlfriend, I'm not a cheater, so no. I'm not doing what we do with anyone else," Haechan tells you exasperatedly.

"So in your head, we've been dating for like two months now?" You ask, leaning into his hold to rest your head against his chest.

"Well, no, in my head we've been dating since we first met. I've been telling everyone that we've been dating for two months, yeah," you feel him nod.

"Are you going to ask me now then?" you drawl out, looking up at him to meet his eyes.

He groans playfully before leaning down so his forehead is pressed against yours, "will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes!" You exclaim excitedly.

"Even though you basically already were. Geez, woman, you're a spoiled girl."

[zyafics]

hii!! i was hoping maybe you could write a fic based on this p!link? ( https://x.com/moodkink/status/1919457705065840752?s=46)

but if you don’t write smut then just ignore this!! that’s totally fine :)

i do write smut, and this is the first time i wrote a smutty little blurb, so this was so fun!! it came so naturally <3

BLURBFEST III | RC

join my blurbfest <3 | p link | WORD COUNT: 0.8k

“I’m shy,” you say timidly as your legs are slowly spread open on Rafe’s lap, his hand slipping between the cushions of your thighs. Spine pressed against his hard chest, the rumbling hitch of his breath as his amusement grows from your nervousness.

His long fingers graze your folds in feather-light touches. Rafe’s lips against the shell of your ear. “You won’t be shy with me.”

Tonight was supposed to be an innocent tutoring session. You were contracted by his parents to come over and help him fix his failing grade—even given the authority of power to change them—but somehow, instead, you ended up half-naked in his lap, with your panties discarded on the floor while his hand plays with your pussy.

Well, almost.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you are certain Rafe can pick up the nervous energy radiating from your body. You haven’t had much experience with sexual intimacy, but somehow, you landed in the web of an notorious fuckboy who does.

“What are you going to do?” You ask meekly, feeling the rough callouses of his palm drag across your soft inner skin, causing you to shiver.

“You never touched yourself before?” His voice is breathy, wanting, like he’s actively holding himself back from doing more.

“I never had someone touching me,” you confess, because it’s true, but it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Rafe chuckles darkly, reveling in your innocence, and he awards you with a gentle glide of his digits against your folds.

You jolt in his lap.

“But you’re wet enough to want it,” Rafe muses lowly, his words coming out hungry. His fingers moved up and down your slit tantalizingly, making your core pulse with need, needing more friction against your clit. “Does this turn you on?”

“N-no,”

“Don’t lie to me,” Rafe says sharply, like he’s training you to be his own personal doll. Putting you in a position you don’t even know you’re getting into. The pad of his thumb caresses your clit, “I don’t reward bad girls.”

“I’m not a bad girl.”

“Yeah?”

Rafe’s words make you strangely hot, liquid heat crawling up your spine with an impulsive ache. All your life, you’re been nothing but a good girl. A law-abiding citizen. The perfect student. Now, you’re spread on a stranger’s couch, with his hand tucked between your legs, touching your most intimate parts.

With a measly glimpse of clarity, you say, “This is wrong.”

You don’t see him, but you can feel the curve of his mouth pull into a smirk. “Really?”

“We’re supposed to be studying.”

“I am studying,” Rafe gently bites your earlobe, a thick finger sinking into your cunt. “Anatomy.”

Heavenly. Rafe slowly enters your pussy, allowing your walls to adjust to his large size, before adding another. Then another. Suddenly, you’re full in a way you’ve never felt in your life. You have touched yourself before, fingers rubbing your sensitive clit, inserting inside, but it can never measure to what Rafe does. What Rafe can do.

He starts thrusting. Moans slip through your throaty voice, ricocheting in incremental volume as you try to contain your sounds. Rafe promised no one is home, just you, just him, and your back arches with pleasure.

“Does this feel good?” Rafe coos in your ear, soaking in your little noises. He quickens his speed with his skillful fingers. “Does my little tutor like that?”

Your mouth is wide open, but you can’t seem to say a thing as whimpers leave your wetted lips, arms flailing to grab hold of something. Rafe’s touch is swift and calculated, finding the right spot, increasing the right pressure. When he curls his fingers, it’s over.

“R-Rafe,” you whimper, shaking in his lap, “Slow down.”

“Did you say go faster?” He quickens his pace, his fingers thrusting in you with perfect, increasing momentum. You’re squirming, ass rubbing against his hard bulge, body building to your crescendo.

You can’t say anything. Can’t object—don’t want to. Instead, embarrassment flames your cheeks, and you close your lips.

“Leave it out,” Rafe demands, forcing your mouth open by shoving his free fingers in. Thighs trembling with his rhythm, your legs attempting to close, but his legs hook yours in a way that leaves you firmly spread. He needs to see it; the way his fingers disappears into your cunt. Needs to hear it; the squelching sounds that speak to your pleasure. It’s his own little prize. “Let me hear you.”

You come. Body shaking from extreme pleasure, hips buckling off his lap, and an elevated state of high passes through your system. You moan, wildly, loudly, in such high volume, it has you swearing the entire Figure Eight neighborhood will be filing a complaint.

You don’t seem to care.

Can you believe that?

“How does that feel?” Rafe asks, withdrawing his hand from your pussy. He doesn’t remove them from between your thighs, letting it sit and hover, making the faint presence known as he still has you in the palm of his hand.

“Good,” you gasp, “So good.”

“Good enough to give me an A?”

You look to him, eyes glazed over with a dreamy daze, the charming smile of his returns. “You know I can’t do that,” you say softly.

You think he’s about to shove you off. Discard you on the floor like he did to your panties and shorts. Instead, his mouth curls into a smirk, like he takes it as a challenge. A delight.

His fingers graze your sensitive clit, those feather-light touches producing a shock of pleasure that has you leaping off his lap. But his other hand finds your hips, pins you down.

“Let’s try this again.”

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

[itoshiierae]

omgg i love ur writing so much 😭😭 can you write how the bllk boys will react when theyre jealous??

with isagi (AGHHH HUSBAND), rin, kaiser, nagi, and ur favss?

how the bllk boys will react when they get jealous

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

ᡣ𐭩 ft: isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, michael kaiser, nagi seishiro, sae itoshi, otoya eita

ᡣ𐭩 notes: hii!! and thank you 🥹<33 ..anywayyy, so like i know some of them might be repetitive but let’s be so fr right now… kaiser is literally the only one i can see being openly upfront when he’s jealous 💀😭 the rest??? oh they’re subtle about it. sulking, brooding & silently spiraling in the corner. but to say it out loud??? mhm prob not HAHAH

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

✿ ISAGI YOICHI ✿ (THE SILENT SPIRAL)

isagi doesn’t mean to take it out on you. he really doesn’t. but when he sees you talking to some other guy who he deems is a little too suave, laughing like you don’t notice the way that guy keeps leaning in & trying to flirt with you — something bitter twists in his stomach. and then he immediately goes quiet.. but he’s not necessarily mad at you, he’s just wondering if maybe that guy’s cooler, taller, more interesting — someone you’d actually pick if you weren’t already his.

he keeps it bottled until it slips out later in a low, too-casual murmur: “did you have fun talking with him?” and it stings — not because he’s accusing you, but because he’s scared he’s not enough.

✿ RIN ITOSHI ✿ (THE PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE SOFTBOY)

you can always tell when rin’s jealous. not because he mentions anything about it, but because his whole body starts to tense — his expression darkens, his eyes narrow, and he starts pulling his sleeves down almost as if they’re armor. another guy accidentally brushes against you and he stiffens almost instantly, eyes flicking down to where his hand lingered too long.

when you ask what’s wrong, he just shrugs and mutters, “nothing,” but you know him better & you’ll never fail to notice the storm brewing behind his silence.

✿ MICHAEL KAISER ✿ (THE OBVIOUS AND BOLD ONE)

kaiser doesn’t hide it. his jealousy is bold, vocal, and immediate. he gets possessive fast — not in a controlling way, but in a “choose me, now” kind of desperation masked as arrogance. he’ll call out the guy you’re talking to — challenge him for your attention, and when he pulls you closer, it’s not just to show off infront of the guy, it’s to reassure himself that you’re ALWAYS his.

he’s basically the type to cut through the conversation with no absolute shame in the way he asserts himself, not even an attempt to mask the possessiveness curling in his chest.

✿ NAGI SEISHIRO ✿ (THE SECRETLY HURT SWEETHEART)

he won’t say a word, but his silence will say everything. nagi seems unbothered on the surface, but jealousy hits him where it hurts most — in his quiet sense of belonging to you. he won’t confront you straight on or lash out infront of you. instead, he’ll grow distant, a little quieter, a little colder — and you’ll notice because he always used to be clingy around you, always used to reach for your hand first — so the moment he pulls away without a word, that’s how you know it got to him.

“it’s fine. I mean… if he makes you laugh like that, who am I to say anything?”

✿ SAE ITOSHI ✿ (THE EMOTIONALLY DISTANT AVOIDER)

when sae feels jealous, his natural instinct is to withdraw. he won’t confront the feeling or immediately cause a scene. instead, he’ll become emotionally distant — quietly removing himself from the situation before it touches a nerve he doesn’t want to acknowledge. he convinces himself it’s better this way. that if he steps back, this feeling will eventually fade on its own. but deep down, he hates that someone else could make you smile the way that he makes you smile.

“you’re free to do whatever you want, i just thought I meant a little more.”

✿ OTOYA EITA ✿ (THE FLIRTY OVER-COMPENSATOR)

he turns the charm up to hide the ache he refuses to name. otoya is the type to cover his jealousy by being extra clingy with you infront of the other guy. he flirts with you harder, starts being extra touchy & he says your name with just enough weight to make it feel like a claim & so that the other guy understands his place — “wow babe, so that’s your type?? should i start dressing like that now? wanna see me in a floral shirt and boat shoes?” — but beneath all the teasing, he’s actually afraid. he doesn’t know how to ask if you still want him. so he keeps pretending, hoping you’ll still choose him before the facade he puts on cracks.

© itoshiierae 2025 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ please do not modify or repost my content onto any other platforms.

[lifedaiiry]

Here is a MASSIVE guide to those curious:

Apeshit: Violently crazy. You are setting buildings on fire and punching babies.

Batshit: "Woah, crazy". Grandma is dyeing her hair blue. Playing loud music at the library.

Chicken shit: You're a coward, but not afraid. You can't take responsibility.

Talking shit: Spreading gossip/rumors/lies/insults too much.

Ratshit also means bad quality.

No shit: Also said as "No shit, sherlock!" which means "That's so obvious!"

Jackshit: Nothing. "I don't have jackshit!"

Holy Shit: "Wow that is so shocking I never expected that!!"

Dipshit: You are dumb

Tough Shit: You either like it the way it is, or leave

Good shit: a good thing / good quality

Shit on a shingle: An American food, not a saying or slang

THE shit (emphasis on the word "The"): The thing you are talking about is perfect. Never about people.

This shit / that shit: This thing / that thing but with cursing

Shit out of luck: There is no hope of success

I've got shit / I ain't got shit: I have nothing

Shit stirrer: troublemaker

I shit you not: I'm not lying/I'm not joking

he/she/they are built like a brick shit house: They are either very strong or very fat

shit faced: extremely drunk (cannot be used for drugs)

shit for brains: you're really stupid

cut the shit: stop lying/stop being silly

shitting bricks: you're horrified

Scared shitless: you're afraid

shit-eating grin: A smug look

I don't know shit: I don't know anything

in deep shit: you are in the worst kind of trouble

when shit hits the fan: When things go wrong

full of shit: someone is lying

lose my shit/she lost her shit: They suddenly became explosive with anger

to give a shit: to care

Are you shitting me? Are you kidding me?

No shit? (with an emphases on being asked as a question) Wow, really? That's surprising.

start shit/starting shit/to start shit: to cause trouble

for shits and giggles: when someone does something for no reason at all. Doesn't have to be humorous but can be.

I don't give a shit: I don't care

"he/she/they are on my shitlist now" I hate them

shoot the shit: wasting time by talking about nothing important

shitshow: it was a disaster. For example: "Well, that concert was a shitshow, am I right?"

shitload: a lot of things (never about people. Just objects)

Hot shit: always said as "He thinks he's hot shit" or "She thinks she's hot shit" or "They think they're hot shit" it means these people think they're all cool but it's not true

shit ton: a lot of things (same as shitload)

shit happens: Life happens that way, sometimes, and we cannot control it.

shit just got real: things are about to get serious/things are about to be terrible. Sometimes used sarcastically.

piece of shit: terrible person

I've got shit to do/I ain't got shit to do: I have nothing to do

shitpost: A funny post on social media

shithead: you're dumb

to shit on something: to make fun of something or say how terrible it is

You've gotta be shitting me! You've gotta be kidding me!

Well, no shit. This one is tricky. If said in a certain tone, it can mean they agree with you but they're being coy about it. Example: "I think everyone should have human rights." "Well, no shit." Usually their voice gets slightly higher at the end of "shit".

get your shit together: take responsibility, seek therapy, and do better. It means all of those things at once.

you ain't shit: you're worthless or you're not as cool as you think you are

Shit's real / shit's real, man: things are intense in the world/situation or whatever you said, they agree with it

Fuck that shit: "I have no respect for that thing/rule/way of life anymore"

let me know if I missed anything ^__^

english slang is awful i would hate to be learning this shit. like the word shit. something can be horseshit or bullshit which means it's a lie. but cow shit is just poop. and something can be dogshit which means it's really bad quality. but cat shit is just poop.

[clairewritesfanfics]

How would the mark variants treat a childhood friend turned girlfriend that became blind before childhood was over? Like how would mark treat his childhood love going blind, by adulthood shes totally blind, and how would his variants treat the same situation?

I can imagine the protectiveness going through the roof, and imagine the variants trying to hide how ugly the world outside is. I wonder which would even care that you are blind, try to help, and which would consider being blind perfect for their plaything. Harder to run away if you can't see.

There is an argument to be made that those who are born blind have it easier than those who go blind. People who were born with imperfect sight have not seen how light disperses between the ocean waves, and so they don’t fear losing that small happiness. 

God can be cruel. 

He had given you eyes that saw how the sun refracts through the tide, the way fireworks light up an evening sky and bring joy to everyone who witnessed their fleeting existence. God gave you Mark Grayson, with his toothy grin and honey eyes that sucked you right in. Now you may never see those things again.

Retinitis Pigmentosa. Genetic. Non-fatal, but incurable. Most people don’t completely lose their vision, but there the chances of total blindness is non-zero. 

The ride home from the hospital was unbearable. Your dad cracked a few lame dad jokes every now and then, but you saw how his finger tapped the steering wheel every time he stopped the car for a red light. Your mom looked like she was going to break down at any moment. But she stayed quiet, tense, but quiet and unable to look at you. The air was awkward and the tension gnawed at your nerves. No one cried. 

As soon as the car reached the garage, you made a hasty exit, spouting something about meeting with Mark for a special movie premiere, then ran straight for the Graysons’ home. 

Lucky for you, your friend answered the door. You didn’t have to worry about breaking down in front of an adult.

“Wanna go to the park?” You tried to play it cool.

Mark cocked an eyebrow at you. It was already sunset. But he knew you long enough to notice your stiff shoulders, that expression in your face that looked like one wrong word would make you fall to your knees, sobbing.

So he kept the questions to himself, stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Now here you two were. Two kids in a mostly empty playground meant for much younger children. At least the swingset chairs were big enough for you. 

“So…” Mark started after ten minutes of silence, “any special news you wanna tell me or did you just really miss the park?”

You stared at the overgrown grass, the tall trees Mark loved to climb, the colorful picnic tables lined next to each other. Without turning to him, you finally spoke, “We just got back from the doctor.”

Mark stomped the heels of his yellow sneakers to stop the momentum of his swing. His eyes were wide. “You’re not–”

“I’m not dying,” you cut him off. “But I am sick.”

He didn’t say anything.

“I won’t be able to see much at night, my vision won’t be… it will take a lot of effort to adapt to what I have right now. Oh, and cherry on the sundae? I could go blind, like actually blind.” You bent your elbows on your knees. “Doctor said it’s going to be slow, which I don’t know how to feel about.”

Mark was silent, trying to think. It was hard to understand for someone so young. Kids and teenagers are prone to feeling immortal, untouchable, and they can’t wrap their heads around the concept of disease, especially when it’s not affecting them directly.

But then you hid your face in your hands. Your entire body shook with each sob as he heard you cry out to a God who failed you. 

And Mark understood. 

His fingers gripped tightly around the metal chains of the swing. He didn’t know how to comfort you right now. Should he hug you? Pat your back?

But he couldn’t bring himself to do those things. Not now. 

Instead he made a promise. 

“Y-you said it won’t be an instant thing, right?”

Vaguely, he saw you nod your head.

“That’s great then! W-we can make as many memories as we can before the worst case happens.”

You wiped your tears and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“Make a list of all the things you want to see and experience, that way we can see all of them before… before you know.”

You gave him a small smile and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

He was taught that humans are weaker than his kind, but it was only after hearing about your disease did he understand. You’re weak. Delicate. Vulnerable. Getting his powers certainly didn’t help. You are too delicate. You can’t be left alone for too long. When he has a job that requires leaving for a planet that is lightyears away he takes you with him. But if it’s safer to keep you inside your home then there will be soldiers guarding every corner and servants answering your every beck and call. He doesn’t trust others to look after you, but he trusts your human body even less, it has already failed you. 

VILTRUMITE, flaxan, target

This is perfect! This way you’re all his. Sure, he feels bad that you lost something precious, but that’s why he is here–to fill the void. Mark makes you depend on him, makes it so that you cannot live in a world where he is not by your side. He scares away all your friends, isolates you from your family, convinces you that they’re tired of you, that you are too much work. But he’s here, he will protect you, provide for you, and keep you happy. And you are happy, or at the very least, satisfied. So you don’t ask him about what’s happening outside the home he built just for you. You pretend that you don’t notice how your devices cannot access the news anymore, or call anyone who wasn’t Mark. You no longer pester him for the cure that he promised you years ago. He is your everything now. 

full mask, maskless, SINISTER, no goggles, prisoner

He is understanding and kind, but he doesn’t treat you like you’re broken. He makes occasional blind jokes because he knows you can take it, that laughing at yourself and your situation helps. He is perfect. Too perfect for a Mark. Truth is that he is scared shitless of everything. One false move and he can lose you forever, not just to some idiot rebel or monster of the week, but to something as stupid as a wet floor. He’s not just concerned about your physical health but also your mental wellbeing. So he hires actors and builds a paradise on a different planet, an illusion of what you thought Earth is like, what Earth used to be. He doesn’t need shapeshifters, only aliens who speak human language and human slaves who want to be free from hard labor. 

head cap, MOHAWK, shiesty, OMNI

image lifted from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

MASTERLIST | request rules | ask box

[atimelessheaven]

Can you please do a fic where Paige and azzi have a teen daughter

LETTER TO MOM

a pazzi series.

hey guysss! sorry ive been lacking on writing recently:/ finals, and life in general are kicking my ass. but here is this! i’ve decided to turn this request into a little series. as of now im not sure if it will be 2 or 3 parts… maybe more? idk. we will see!

fluff ◡̈

warning: mixed pov’s, probably some grammar errors (please ignore them!), and a mediocre plot. that’s all i think! let me know if i missed any.

enjoy!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

backstory: iris was born in 2027. the year of this story is 2041- making iris 14, paige 37, azzi 36. they have been in the league for 16, and 15 years. paige is still on the wings, azzi plays for the valkyries.

iris pov:

today has been tough.

i woke up late. i slipped in the shower. leaving my ankle all swollen, it hurts to move it. i made a bad grade on my science test, and one of my coaches yelled at me for being “lazy” i was in pain, and i just felt exhausted.

i am exhausted.

i feel like i can’t move.

it feels like i can’t even breath without someone getting mad at me.

life has just been hard.

to top it off i miss my mom.

i could never, and would never admit how much it really effects me. she’d feel bad, and i don’t want to put that burden on her.

since mom, and mama have jobs on two different sides of the country they decided it would be best if i stayed with mama during season, in san francisco.

it’s the longest five months of my life.

sure i see mom every now and then during the season, but it’s just not the same.

sometimes i just want to give her a hug.

have her hold me when i’m sad.

come home from school and tell her all about my day, every little detail.

or when i have something really exciting to tell her, i can’t see her live reaction unless it’s facetime.

that is not the same. not even close.

it’s all just caught up to me. right about now i just want my mom to hold me.

since that’s not possible right now, i’ve resorted to the next best thing-

crying myself to sleep wearing moms hoodie that smells like her, holding my build a bear that has her voice in it.

sure it might seem dramatic, she hasn’t died or anything, but if you were in my shoes, you’d understand.

azzi pov:

iris has been home from school for three hours now, and she’s been awfully quiet.

i mean the girl hasn’t even came into the kitchen to get a snack.

something is up with my kid.

that child is ravenous after school, i need to find out what’s wrong a-s-a-p as possible (hehehehe)

i walk to her room and knock, getting no response.

typically i’d just leave her alone but i just feel off, she’s acting off. so i go in.

when i walk in i immediately just freeze mid stride into her room to access the scene in front of me.

my sweet iris girl asleep wearing her moms hoodie, holding her comfort bear with my wife’s voice inside, a wet pillow and tear stained cheeks.

welp.. my mama heart just shattered.

i walked over and gave her a forehead kiss, taking a picture to send my wife. then left her room.

it’s about 9:00 for paige, but she still responds to the picture i sent her relatively fast considering i know she’s tired after a long day of training and would be going to sleep very soon.

from paige- “well i am now officially going to join her in the crying myself to sleep club. i miss my girls. so sad my sweet baby is struggling with me being away. i feel awful.”

right as i go to reply i hear iris headed into the kitchen where i am, so i quickly respond with a “we miss you too.”

“hi babe, how was school today?” i say as i catch iris having to physically hold her up while she completely melted into me.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.” iris mumbles, voice shakey.

“that’s okay, i’m here when you’re ready. you’ll never be forced to talk when you don’t wanna, but i do need you to recognize mom, and i are always here to listen when you’re ready, okay?”

“i know, i just..” iris began but decided against it, not wanting to be a burden.

“you just what?” azzi said encouraging her to finish her statement.

“i don’t want to be the bitchy teen who complains and makes life difficult when i’m so privileged. i mean i know you and mom have demanding jobs, and that it provides so many cool opportunities, but it’s also really hard sometimes. it’s hard having to travel around to a ton of places back to back, missing school, missing friends, missing the normalcy of a regular quiet life. on the flip side when im left behind with friends while yall go to games i feel lonely, not because i don’t like hanging out with my friends but because i miss my parents. you guys are my comfort people, i couldn’t do it without you. having mom be so far away for so long really takes a toll on me. and i promise you are enough and im not meaning you aren’t, but i just miss mom. i thought it would get easier as i got older having to be away from her, but if anything i think it’s gotten harder. i need my mom. i miss my mom. oh and also my day was just awful in general, and i was thinking about all of that and so i just starting spiraling.” iris says pretty quickly, tears showing in her eyes once again. azzi can tell this has been eating at her for a while.

“okay so how about we go get ready for bed, you can lay with me and we can finish this conversation alright?” azzi says pulling away from iris making her stand on her own.

“okay, but can we not tell mom?” iris asks quietly as they start walking towards azzi’s room.

azzi froze. “well uhm i might have taken a picture of you asleep earlier so she already knows sorta what’s going through your head. if you don’t want to explain it to her i’m not going to force you, but i think she’d like to know what’s going on completely if you’re willing to let her in on it. can i ask why you don’t want to tell her?”

“well i love mom, but i know how she is. you do too. she’s going to feel guilty when it’s not even her fault and i don’t wanna stress her out. iris says looking at azzi

“you make a compelling case, but i want to offer my counter argument. as much as that is true, i think she would feel worse if you didn’t tell her what was bothering you, and she found out it was for her sake. that would make her feel more terrible. also we both know she’s going to ask you about that picture i sent, you can’t lie then. she reads you too well. you aren’t slick enough for that.” azzi says laughing thinking of all the times her daughter has given herself away with her terrible lying skills. let’s just say she shouldn’t play poker, or ever commit a crime.

she laughs along with her mom, “you’re right, i should tell her. i just don’t know how i should. i don’t want her to see me cry, or worse she cries. i’d feel so bad if mom cried over this. mama what do i do?” iris says suddenly panicking at the thought of making her mom cry.

“okay calm down, you don’t have to explain it directly to her, you could write her a letter like you used to do as a kid, i think that would cheer her up. very sentimental, and nostalgic. perfect. she’ll love it, and you don’t have to show any emotions you don’t want to, just write what you want.”

“wait that’s a great idea. i can be like so vulnerable, and she’ll never have to see me cry, and i won’t have to see her initial reaction.” iris says feeling so confident in this idea.

“okay okay, now let’s for real get ready for bed, go lay in my room and watch a movie. how does that sound?” azzi says as she starts walking to her room grabbing iris’ hand to take her along with her.

*about ten minutes later they’re both snuggled up in bed watching tangled*

“oh iris look, paige is facetiming us!” azzi says excitedly as she answers the call, while pausing the movie.

“hi my babies! i miss you guys so much!” paige immediately says as the call connects. “omg iris i saw the cutest dog earlier and forgot to send you the picture i took, i just knew you’d love it.” is how paige started their nightly catch up of their day conversation.

“awww i wanna see the puppy, i wish i could’ve been there to see it in person.” iris replies, lighting up at the idea of a cute puppy. “mom can i get a puppy?”

“absolutely not. iris that would be a disaster. poor thing would either have to travel a lot, or stay behind with a pet sitter. not plausible sadly at the moment. maybe in the future! we can add it to our family bucket list!” paige says letting iris down as gently as possible, but trying to cheer her up in the moment.

“ugh. that’s so unfair, i would take it on walks and everything.” iris says grumbling. azzi just rolls her eyes staying out of the conversation.

“so what were you two up to before i called?” paige says curiously.

“TANGLED!” azzi, and iris respond at the same time.

“i should’ve known, you guys literally don’t know of any other movies.” paige says laughing a little at their excitement

“that’s so not true, we also watch zootopia.” iris responds in a matter of fact tone, like paige had just offended her with the movie comment. she’s very well versed in her disney movies.

“and hamilton.” azzi says agreeing with iris.

“okay, okay i get it. now i say you guys start it over, so we can press play at the same time and watch together!” paige suggests

*approximately 47 minutes into the movie iris was out cold.*

“paige, look.” azzi said getting her attention, turning the phone to show iris sound asleep on her shoulder.

“aww our little baby isn’t so little anymore is she?” paige says smiling at the sight of her peaceful daughter.

“i know. it’s crazy to think that just ten years ago all she cared about was if she could eat candy for breakfast, and wear her princess dresses in public, now she’s worried about our feelings, and feels like she’s carrying the world on her shoulders. i just wish i could save her from everything, especially her own mind sometimes.” azzi whispered to paige, while lovingly looking down at iris, gently rubbing her back.

“i love her just how she is, but i know she’s way too caring for this world. she has so much empathy. i don’t ever want it to hurt her. i just want to protect her from everything. she’s my baby.” paige says agreeing with azzi. “what happened earlier today? why was our baby so sad?” paige asks

“it has to do with her caring too much about our feelings over her own. she didn’t want me to tell you, but i can say you’ll find out very soon.” azzi says.

very soon.

[strawberry-bubblef]

Hi! How's it going? I'm going through withdrawal. I need a dose of Lilia. Can you please write about a date with a reader? Something with the boys in Diasomnia, where Lilia goes somewhere without them for the first time in her life. I guess they're not used to him having a private life and are shocked for the first time, "Where are you going? To a cafe? Yay, we're getting dressed already. Why are we staying home...?"(help, I don't know how to describe the plot in English 😔)

A date With Lilia (and not them)

For most of his long life, Lilia Vanrouge had always been part of something larger. A general. A father. A guardian. A mentor. A watchful figure lingering in the corners of someone else’s story.

But lately… he’d wanted something different.

Not duty. Not tradition. Not the comforting, exhausting cycle of raising the next generation.

Just you.

So when he slipped into a neatly buttoned shirt crimson, did his most charming make up and combed through his hair neatly for once, the boys of Diasomnia took notice.

“…You’re dressed nicely,where are you going ?” Silver said with a tone neutral .

Lilia smiled, brushing a hand through his hair again. “Hmm? Oh, thank you! A café in town.”

“Where?” Sebek demanded, already rising. “Do you require an escort?!”

Malleus looked thoughtful. “I wouldn’t mind some tea. It’s been a while since we’ve gone out as a dorm.”

“I’m going alone,” Lilia said simply.

They all stopped.

“…Alone?” Sebek echoed, like the word offended him.

Lilia chuckled. “Yes. I do know how to walk unaccompanied, you know.”

Silver leaned forward. “Are you meeting someone?”

There was a pause. Then:

“I am.”

Silence.

Sebek went pale. “Are you being blackmailed?”

“Sebek, please,” Lilia snorted. “Can’t an old man go on a date without someone assuming extortion?”

“You said date?” Malleus asked slowly.

Lilia smiled,not teasingly, but soft, real. “Yes. A proper one. Just… me. And them.”

He left them behind with a wave, ignoring the anxious energy in the common room like it was static dust in the wind.

The café was warm, dimly lit, and mercifully quiet. You looked radiant in the candlelight, a comforting presence that grounded him in the now.

He took your hand over the table with a reverence you weren’t quite used to seeing from the ever-joking general.

“You really left them behind?” you teased, swirling your tea.

“Mm.” He traced your knuckles lightly. “Sebek looked like he was about to faint. I almost felt guilty.”

“You’re allowed a life.”

“That’s the part I’m still getting used to,” he said quietly.

There was a weight behind the smile he gave you, something that hinted at centuries of carrying others and never once wondering if he was allowed to keep anything for himself. But he had chosen you. This quiet moment. A world not ruled by duty.

Your thumb brushed his palm. “So… what do you want now?”

He leaned forward, gaze lidded, voice low. “You.”

The rest of the world dissolved.

Lilia rarely sat still for long, but tonight, he lingered. Every moment seemed stretched in golden thread,delicate, fragile, suspended in a space where time didn’t rush or claw at him like it always had before. You watched as he lifted his teacup with his free hand, pinky ever so slightly raised, elegant even in casual settings.

“I’m surprised,” you murmured. “You didn’t bring some strange, experimental food.”

He laughed, low and warm. “I considered it. Then I realized, for once, I didn’t want tonight to be about putting on a show.”

He said it with a smile, but his gaze was focused. Unflinching. Honest in a way that startled you a little.

“It’s just tea,” you said softly, lifting your cup in return. “But I’m glad it’s with you.”

“You’ve no idea how rare that is,” he replied, voice dropping, more to himself than to you. “To sit across from someone and not feel the centuries between us like a wall.”

You leaned on the table, elbow propped and eyes locked with his. “Then tell me something true. No teasing, no riddles.”

He hesitated, which was rare. Then he said, “I was scared to ask you out tonight.”

“…You?”

“I may be old, but even I have moments where I wonder if I've earned something or if I’m simply reaching for things that were never meant to be mine.”

Your breath hitched, but your hand never left his. “Lilia… you don’t have to earn this. You already have.”

A beat passed. Then he smiled, slowly, like spring breaking over frost. “You’re dangerously good at ruining my composure.”

“You can tease again now.”

He laughed, head thrown back. The sound wrapped around you like velvet.

Dinner came and went in a rhythm that felt natural,he let you taste from his plate, you wiped sauce from his lip, he muttered something suggestive and grinned when you rolled your eyes. The waitress brought dessert with a wink, clearly invested in whatever magic had bloomed between you. Lilia, true to form, fed you the first bite of cake himself, deliberately brushing your lips with the fork.

Later, when the café had thinned out and the tea had gone lukewarm, he stood and offered you his arm with such gallant formality that it made you laugh.

“Come,” he said softly, leaning close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Let me walk you home like someone who still believes in romance.”

You took his arm without hesitation.

He didn't look back once.

English is not my first language !

[bluejelly8]

I first tried to come out as asexual when I was 13. At 13 I knew that I had no interest in sex the way a lot of my peers seemed to be at that age. I believed, at the time, that I was pan-romantic and I felt really good about those labels. They felt right. My parents' immediate response was laughter. "What? Are you a plant?" Was the first and only thing she said on the topic of my sexuality. Ever since, she has boasted being supportive and not caring about other people's sexuality whilst ridiculing her own daughter's to her face.

When I was in 14, my color guard group was going around the circle, introducing ourselves and a few girls shared their pronouns/sexuality. I felt safe. I felt welcome. I told them I identified as panromantic asexual. The looks they gave me. The abject horror on their faces. I explained what that meant, that i was romantically attracted to all genders, but sexually attracted to none. Their faces didn't change. We moved on.

When I was 16 I started telling friends I was bisexual. Not because I strongly felt like I was, but because it was more palatable, more understandable than asexuality of any kind. I avoided queer spaces. I still do. I own 1 enamel pin of the aroace flag disguised enough to be passed off as something inoculous. I own a jellyfish plushie in the asexual flag colors, a gift from an old friend.

When I was 19/20 my best friend introduced me to the idea of aromanticism. Away from my hometown, with the help and support of one incredible friend, I began to reidentify as asexual. Because I was never bisexual. With the support of that same friend, I was introduced to the concept of aromanticism, and something just clicked. It was an option I had never considered before. And it made sense, it explained so much. Not everything, but a lot. Im 22, almost 23 now, and I'm still figuring out where I stand on sex and that's okay!!

I became sort of friends with a new coworker when I was 21. We broached the topic of queerness to me, and I felt comfortable enough to share my sexuality with him. It's not something I am shy about discussing with people, close friends, or not(more often than not, it saves me the hassle of being asked out). He asked me if I was just 'intellectualizing my feelings towards other people'. I told him I no, and I never discussed my sexuality with him again.

Within this last year, another coworker asked me out. I apologized(a mistake) and explained that I was aroace(in laymans terms) and that I thought he was a great guy, but I just don't work like that. We barely spoke for a year. It was awkward, but he was my friends older brother, and I thought we could be friends. He took the rejection well and never brought it up again. As soon as I felt comfortable enough around him to talk to him outside of work, he slapped me in the face with bigotry. Chappel Roan was playing on the speaker and my friend(his sister, a proud lesbian), and I intended to keep that going while we worked, and he complained about her music. That's fine, its not for everyone, but he kept whining about it. So, I asked him what was wrong with it. What about it did he not like? I was curious. He said "Well, I'm not a lesbian, so I dont get it."

I replied with "Okay...? I'm not either."

And he looked at me. He looked me dead in the face with suspicion. As though he didn't believe me when I said that. I reiterated that I was not and am not a lesbian.

"But you would be. If you weren't what you are, you would be."

He walked away before I could proccess what the fuck that meant. I was an anxious mess for the rest of my shift. I called my friend in tears on my way home. I panicked about working with him the next week(at the time we were the only 2 people working in the basement of where I work), I didn't feel safe around him anymore. I had to go to my boss and explain the situation in full because(after his sister grilled him on how fucked up of a thing that was to say to someone is and how she warned him that something like this would happen) all he had said was 'I understand if Jelly doesnt want to work with me anymore and I have to move upstairs'.

The conversation went well, but I was a shaking, sobbing mess, and I could barely string together two sentences. I had written down everything I wanted to say for my boss to read in case I physically couldn't explain it. And my boss was great about it. I didn't work with him for a year and I am never scheduled alone with him. We barely speak beyond work related topics.

The point of all this rambling and explanation is that aphobia and every type of bigotry occurs in big and small ways every day. It happens from within and without the queer community in equal measure. Asexuality might be invisible to a lot of people, but so is aphobia. Just because you don't see it doesn't mean it's not happening. Just because we 'arent hurting anyone' doesn't mean people aren't hurting us. Sorry if this is an unwelcome addition, OP.

tbh I really dislike how aphobia tends to be discussed whenever there's some kind of incident that makes it visible to general society. The most common response seems to be some variation of "why would anyone hate asexual/aromantic people, they aren't even doing anything" and it just always sits wrong with me. It paints such a passive picture of our existence and feels like a comment influenced by the level of invisibility that aspec people have in society. Why would you be annoyed by someone who is practically invisible? Just go back to ignoring their existence, it's easy!

But despite the invisibility, aspec people are actually doing quite a lot of things that will piss off queerphobic, right-wing and religious people (and hell, even left-wing people). And the most obvious point is that we are actively not performing heterosexuality the way they want us to. People who's entire world view is "cis men and women should be in monogamous, heterosexual marriage and have (white) babies" are not going to lean back and say "oh but those asexuals and aromantics are fine". They will also hate our guts, and they will come up with all sorts of reasons, including insinuating we're all secretly into bestiality, or mentally ill, or not human, or attention seeking children. It's just plain old queerphobia, and like all queerphobia, there's no inherent logic to it which you can worm your way out of by "not doing anything".

And like, there's a lot more that aspec people do which people hate. Raising awareness about amatonormativity? People feel attacked, they hate it. Asexual people having sex? Or not having sex? People hate it! Aromantic people being in (seemingly) romantic relationships? People fucking hate it! Aromantic people having sex? Ohh people hate that!!

I guess the existence of aphobia can be confusing when you haven't spent much time thinking about asexuality and aromanticism, but in the end, these are identities that aren't heteronormative and they will be hit with the same or similar bigotry as any other queer identity. I just get tired of this response after seeing it recycled for 10 years without ever seeming to go any further.

[azrielstherapist]

Never mine

Pairing: Azriel x Reader Length: 1,953 words Angst Level: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 (emotional masochists welcome) Trigger Warnings: Emotional neglect, unrequited love, self-abandonment, Azriel/Elain implication, bondlessness, quiet heartbreak

Inspired by 'Cry' by Cigarettes after S*x

I think I always knew he wouldn’t stay.

Maybe not in the beginning, when his touches were soft and his words even softer. When his eyes found mine across a crowded room and something in his expression faltered, like he’d seen something he wasn’t meant to want.

But even then, even in the first gentle tremble of hope — I knew. Azriel doesn’t belong to anyone. Not really.

And I stayed anyway.

Gods, I stayed.

For the quiet moments. For the shadows that curled around me like they recognized something in me that he never dared say aloud. For the nights when he’d fall into bed beside me with a kind of desperation that made it feel like love.

But it wasn’t. Not fully. Not enough.

I started breaking myself the day Feyre found her mate.

The bond had snapped into place so clearly, so impossibly loud, that it left something in my chest hollow and trembling. And then Cassian and Nesta — two storms colliding until they burned each other alive, and still, the bond was there. Tangible. Unshakeable.

But Azriel and I? There was no golden thread tying us together. No glowing tether from his soul to mine.

Just flesh. Just hands. Just stolen moments that didn’t belong to the light of day.

I never told him that I cried the first time he left before sunrise. I watched the sky turn violet, watched the curve where his body used to be cool and empty in my sheets, and I knew — I knew — that I was the only one falling.

I walk past him, toward the open balcony where the wind hiss at my skin.

I closed my eyes. Let the wind tug my hair like fingers that weren’t his. Let it bite my skin harder than he ever did, even in passion.

“If we don’t have a bond... then why does it still feel like I’m yours?”

I think that maybe it started unraveling the night he looked at her like that.

Not in the casual, almost-guilty way he did when he thought no one noticed. No, this was different.

He looked at Elain like the world might end if she looked back.

And she did.

Softly. Sweetly. Like she had no idea she was killing me just by breathing near him.

That was the first time I wondered if maybe we’d only ever been a placeholder. If I was just the shadow Azriel wrapped himself in while he waited for light.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says now, standing in the doorway of my room like he hasn’t already done exactly that.

He always says it like it’s new. Like I haven’t bled out in his arms a hundred times already.

“I’m not Elain,” I whisper, voice brittle.

He freezes. Not because I’ve said something cruel — but because I’ve said something true.

A breath. A beat. A silence full of every word he never said.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice is quiet. So fucking quiet.

“I think you wish I were,” I say. “Or maybe you just wish she were me. Easier. Less complicated. Already loved by everyone.”

He flinches.

Good.

I want it to hurt.

Because I’ve been dying in inches for months while he’s tried to make room in his heart for someone who barely looks at him. For someone who glows while I stay cloaked in shadows he called mine.

“You don’t understand,” he says.

“No,” I snap. “I do. You think she might be your mate. So you stall. You hesitate. You hold back, just in case.”

He doesn’t deny it.

And that’s the worst part.

I laugh. Not because it’s funny — but because it’s the only thing keeping me from breaking in half.

“So what am I, Azriel? Your contingency plan? Your…hole to fill?”

He says nothing.

Just looks at me with that sorrowful, broken stare he always wears when he’s caught between guilt and silence.

“I chose you,” I whisper. “Every fucking time. No bond. No signs. Just love.”

I step closer, trembling. “But you never chose me. Not really. Because somewhere in your heart, you’re still waiting for something else. Someone else.”

“It’s not that simple—”

“It is,” I say, almost choking. “It’s exactly that simple. You don’t love me enough to stop wondering about her. You don’t love me enough to stay.”

His wings twitch. His mouth parts like he wants to argue.

But there’s no lie big enough to fix what he’s broken.

“I wake up alone more nights than not,” I whisper. “And every time you leave, I tell myself you’ll come back differently. That you’ll look at me like I’m it for you. Like I’m worth fighting the bond that never came.”

“I feel things for you,” he says desperately. “Things I don’t understand. But Elain—”

“—isn’t yours,” I cut in. “She never was.”

And still, he says nothing.

Because deep down, I think he knows I’m right. I think he knows that whatever he and Elain are — or aren’t — is just a dream he won’t let go of. A possibility he’s too afraid to shut the door on.

Even if it means letting me walk out instead.

“I can’t keep being your almost,” I murmur, chest splitting. “I’m asking you to stop loving me like this. Like it’s a crime. Like it’s a secret.”

“You act like fate forgot about you,” I say. “But maybe it didn’t. Maybe it gave you me. And you were too busy chasing a golden thread that never snapped to see that you already had a soul beside yours.”

The wind howls.

He doesn’t.

“I’m tired,” I say. “Of begging with my eyes. Of being your secret. Of pretending that this doesn’t kill me a little more every time you leave.”

“I thought I was protecting you,” he says, desperate now. “From me. From what I am. I’m not—” He breaks off, his voice jagged. “I’m not him, Y/N. I’m not Rhys. Or Cassian. I don’t know how to love like they do.”

“I never asked you to be anyone else,” I whisper. “I just wanted you to be here. With me. When it mattered.”

And still — still — he does not move.

So I do.

I walk past him, past the bedroom that holds a hundred memories of him reaching for me in the dark but never in the light. I walk past the ghosts of every almost, every maybe, every word he never said.

And I stop at the doorway.

I don’t look back.

I look at him — one last time.

Azriel. Shadowsinger. The male I gave everything to. Who made me believe in love without a bond. Who held me like I was everything and left like I was nothing.

“I would’ve stayed,” I whisper. “Even without the bond. Even without her. I would’ve stayed and loved you until it destroyed me.”

Tears threaten.

But I don’t let them fall.

“You’re the one who walked away.”

And then I do.

I walk.

And he lets me.

Again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Azriel's POV

She glowed tonight.

Not like starlight. Not like Elain.

Like fire.

Like rage and rebirth and someone who survived her own ruin.

She stood in the garden in a midnight-blue dress that clung to her like a second skin, her laughter low and steady as it bloomed from her lips — those same lips I once touched with trembling fingers, too afraid to claim, too selfish to leave.

And I think I forgot how to breathe.

Because she wasn’t looking for me anymore.

Not even a glance.

Not even a flicker of recognition, like the memory of us had finally faded from her bones.

But I remember.

Gods, I remember everything.

The curve of her shoulder under my hand. The way her eyes used to search mine like she was trying to find something that mattered. The way she said my name like it was something safe.

Azriel.

No one has said it like that since.

Not even Elain.

And now—now she belongs to him.

The male at her side watches her the way I never did. Not because I didn’t want to. But because I was too afraid of what it would mean if I let myself need her.

Too afraid that if I chose her without a bond, the Mother would laugh and punish us both. That maybe I was only whole enough to wound.

But he doesn’t look afraid.

He looks like he knows he’s the luckiest bastard alive.

He looked at her the way I never did.

Like she was the answer, not the question.

And it guts me.

Because I could have. Gods, I could have.

I loved her.

I think I always did — in my own broken, hesitant way. But I was too busy listening for something that never came. Waiting for a bond that never snapped. Chasing an if while she was begging me to see the now.

I didn’t choose her.

And by the time I realized she was already mine, she had already learned to stop hoping.

She stopped waiting.

She stopped bleeding for me.

And now she belongs to someone who never made her ask to be chosen.

I don't blame her.

He just saw her — and stayed.

I don’t remember what joy feels like.

Not anymore.

Just the sound of her voice in my memory and the weight of every “almost” I threw away. I can still taste her in the quiet. Still hear her whisper, “Even if there’s no bond… I still choose you.”

And I—fuck—I just stood there.

Waiting for something better.

Something easier.

Something fated.

But fate never showed up.

And now I’m left with silence. With shadows that curl tighter around my ribs because they remember how she used to hold them in her sleep, whispering comfort to the darkness I never learned to live without.

I should’ve loved her better.

I should’ve loved her louder.

Not like a secret. Not like a sin.

But like a prayer.

And now she’s gone.

Not dead.

Worse.

Happy.

With someone who isn't me.

I watch her laugh — soft and warm, her hand brushing his as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She leans into him like home. Like trust.

Like something I could’ve had if I’d just told her what she meant before it was too late.

I don’t sleep anymore.

I just lay in the dark and wonder if she still sleeps on the left side of the bed. If she still hums when she makes tea. If she still cries when it rains — and if now, someone holds her when she does.

I wonder if she still loves me.

And then I pray she doesn’t.

Because it would kill me to think she still does — and stayed away anyway.

I never said I loved her.

Not out loud.

And now it’s all I can think.

Over and over and over again, until it fills the hollowness I carved into myself with silence.

I loved you. I loved you. I loved you. I still love you.

Gods, I’d give anything to go back — to un-say every silence, to un-make every hesitation. To press my hands to her cheeks and say I love you. Stay. It’s you. It’s always been you.

But that moment is dead.

Buried beneath the weight of every day I waited.

Now I’m just the ghost of what she almost had.

And she?

She’s finally free of me.

I think that’s what kills me the most.

She let go.

And I never will.

She left.

Because I made it easy.

A/N: Sooooo what do you guys think of this? I was listening to this song and thought 'Why not'. Hope you guys like it, and if you do, please let me know!

Dividers by @enchanthings-a

[livvymd]

Ballet confessions.

about time i wrote a ballet fic

You weren’t famous for it. It wasn’t part of your brand, or your content, or your online persona. It wasn’t something you shouted about or posted on Instagram. Ballet was just… yours.

A quiet hobby, a bit of discipline, a bit of escape. One that had been with you long before the cameras, the editing software, or the mad chaos of YouTube life.

So when Arthur asked where you disappeared to every Tuesday and Thursday morning, you shrugged and said, “I stretch.”

He didn’t question it. Just grinned, made some flirty comment, and moved on.

Until today.

You were running late after a private class, still in your pale wrap-around ballet top and shorts when Arthur showed up early at your flat for a video brainstorm. You were in the middle of your cooldown, standing while stretching your leg up into a split against the wall when he opened the door.

He froze mid-step.

“Jesus Christ—” he muttered, eyes widening.

You smirked without turning to look. “Told you I stretch.”

He whistled lowly under his breath, eyes very obviously glued to your silhouette. “You didn’t say you bend time and space. What the hell.”

You laughed, still holding the stretch. “Close the door. You’re letting the cold in.”

He obeyed but didn’t stop staring. “You—ballet? Like, actual ballet?”

“Since I was a kid,” you said, switching legs. “It’s never really come up.”

Arthur blinked like you’d just revealed you were secretly royalty.

“You’re insane,” he mumbled, walking around you slowly like he was trying to take in every detail. “Like in the best way. You’re out here doing... Swan Lake, and I thought you were just sleeping in on Thursdays.”

You let go of the stretch and dropped back onto your feet lightly. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Oh, it’s already weird,” he said, stepping behind you. “Here—do the leg thing again.”

“What?”

“Just—humour me.”

You hesitated, then raised your leg back into the wall split position. Arthur stepped closer, gently placing his hands on your waist to help steady you. You could feel his breath near your ear, but he stayed focused—surprisingly respectful for someone who was undeniably whipped.

“I don’t know how you’re real,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

Your breath caught slightly. “Arthur…”

He chuckled, tightening his grip just enough to steady you. “I know. Shut up. I'm embarrassing. But you have no idea how long I’ve been into you. And now I find out you do ballet? Full ballerina? I’m done for.”

You slowly lowered your leg and turned around, still held loosely in his arms.

“You’re actually serious?” you asked, squinting slightly, almost not believing it.

Arthur blinked down at you. “I’m Arthur Frederick. Of course I’m serious. I’ve basically been in love with you since you beat me at Wii Tennis.”

You laughed, cheeks warm.

“And now this?” he gestured at your outfit, your whole existence, really. “I’ve been thirsting after you like some schoolboy.”

“You still are,” you teased.

“I absolutely am,” he agreed shamelessly.

There was a pause. Then something shifted in his gaze.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, softer now.

You nodded.

He didn’t waste another second.

It was gentle, but eager. One of those first kisses that felt like a question and an answer at the same time. Like he’d been holding it in forever and finally got to exhale.

When you pulled back, you grinned. “So you’re not weirded out that I do ballet in secret?”

He stared at you like you’d just offered him the sun.

“I’ve never been more obsessed with you in my life.”

[bubobubosibericus]

OK FINE I'LL WRITE ONE

I don't remember what happened, not really. I remember it being unexpected, and I remember the movement of the air around me being strangely comforting. But that is all. I don't know why emotions are all I remember of the before when most of the thing experiencing those emotions is gone, but that is how it is. When I woke up I was laying in a clinic. Blind in one eye, but otherwise okay, or that is what I presumed.

I was right in that I could no longer see out of one eye, but I was as far from okay as it is possible to be, and it wasn't really that I was blind in one eye. More that there wasn't an eye to be blind in anymore.

It was gone, along with most of the left side of my head. The doctors told me they had only kept me alive because they were amazed I was alive at all when they found me and wanted to run some more experiments on me before dropping the stasis field and burying me. Of course, that was before I woke up.

I don't begrudge them the experiments, really. I would have done mostly the same ones. Of course, I had my fair share of critiques of their work, but that was just academic. My left arm will never work again due to the bronze rods they stuck straight into my nerves but the information we obtained that way makes it more than worth the small sacrifice.

Looking at my reflection still feels strange, with the large, fragile mesh of iridescent crystal that has grown to replace most of where my brain had been so plainly visible, grafted into the mostly healed skin, starting at my cheek, going just barely over the bridge of my nose, and then all the way around to the back. Of course, the scars go much farther than that. I did not fall off the highest tower in the capital, but it had been plenty high to mangle my body quite severely.

I can use my right arm and legs now, but to get to that point a very skilled immortal craftsman had to meticulously shape the crystal into manageable chunks and I can feel it awkwardly being pulled on by my muscles with every movement I make.

We don't really know why I fell. Wizards have never been a species particularly know for their dexterity but I had been a veritable athlete compared to some of my far older peers. I had been well liked among them, too, of course, but the field of temporal research has always been prone to strangely mundane deadly accidents.

The story goes that the entire subject is cursed for attempting to manipulate the hands of fate, but I have never been convinced by those rumors. Power struggles are not rare among mages, and such a rumor might provide ample cover to get rid of potential competitors. I have no idea who did it, but I am convinced that someone did.

Thankfully saner heads prevailed over my preservation and I had been quietly moved out of the city long before I woke up. Out of the hands of whomever might intend to do me harm. I can never return there, but at least I can continue my research in silence here, in the mountains of ash. Also a place said by myth to be deeply accursed. I guess I just can't seem to learn my lesson.

But I just can't help it! the place speaks to me, and I don't mean that figuratively. That is another thing that has changed since the accident. I hear voices. Every place has its own. Most places have been fairly uninteresting. Places do not have complex desires. They want the same things the life on them wants and for most of them that is nothing more complex than to enjoy the light of the sun and the gentleness of mild rain on a hot day.

Not so with the mountains of Ash.

This place has a morose sorrow to it. The skies are blue and the rocks are plain, but it isn't the shape of the place. Something has happened here. It wasn't always like this, the voices tell me. Someone did something to this place. For the past year, I have been traveling in these mountains, and I have come to agree with the rocks. The mountains of ash are not cursed at all. they are simply like me.

Badly hurt, angry and sad. And most of all, they want to understand what happened to them like I want to know what happened to me. We have been helping each other out in that regard. I do research on what happened here, and in return, the mountains keep me safe and hidden. Sometimes, I get to see glimpses of what happened to them, and of what they were before. I see a great many-winged beast soaring overhead and a vast storm on the ground. I see castles collapsing and I see beautiful meadows that are no more. I see the burning dead and I can feel their anger and fear crash into me like a wave and then the sun breaks through the clouds a little faster than expected and I somehow know with absolute certainty that I am safe. It is as if the hills themselves are glad to finally share their woes with someone.

I am still no closer to knowing who took my brain from me, but at least I have gained a home.

When a mage is badly injured, magic sometimes "fills in the gaps"—growing an arcane hand or leg. You suffered brain damage that would have killed most. Magic filled in your mind.