#or things you thought okay on where you only really did poorly

[moonstruckme]

Hello tumblr has decided to temporarily disappear the request I'm ready to post again, so sorry and thank you for requesting <3

Request: i love love love your writing and was wondering if you’d write a period hurt/comfort with james? i have really bad endometriosis, and i’ve never really had someone take it seriously :( fainted earlier so i’m in pain rn and i just know james would be such a sweetheart

cw: modern au, reader who menstruates, very mild/vague description of cramps, male gaslighting/suspicion of female pain (what else is new)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 895 words

“Will that be all?” The geniality in James’ tone is starting to wane thin. He paces aimlessly around your flat, down the hall and into the bedroom and then back out again, footsteps meandering about the kitchen. “Right, yeah. No, I’m quite sure she’ll be out all day.” 

James shoots you an exasperated look as he comes into the sitting room, and you manage a smile-esque grimace from the couch in return. Your boss is a piece of work, you know. 

You hold out your hand for the phone. James shakes his head. 

“No, she can’t come to the phone right now,” he says, sitting beside your curled-up legs. “She’s resting. Did I mention she fainted a bit ago? Alright, yeah, just checking. Yeah. Yeah, okay. I’ll let her know.” 

You grimace again when he puts down the phone. Hanging up without telling the other person to have a lovely day is like James’ equivalent of the middle finger. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“What’re you sorry for?” James gives your calf a gentle squeeze. “Your boss is rather pushy, isn’t he? Shouldn’t take so much to use a sick day.”

“I don’t think he believes me.” You let your face mush deeply into a throw pillow. There’s a light sweat broken out on your brow, but you couldn’t be more grateful for the sweltering heating pad held tight over your abdomen. “I could’ve talked to him.” 

James makes a face. “You shouldn’t have to deal with someone like that when you’re already poorly.”  

“What did he want you to let me know?” 

“Oh. Uh.” James seems as though he did not, in fact, plan to let you know, but now that you’ve asked he can’t avoid it. “He said that he expects to see you in tomorrow. We’ll see.” 

You sigh. “I might be able to manage tomorrow. Or I might be a bit better, at least.” 

“We’ll see,” he says again, stooping to mush a kiss into the side of your head. “Don’t worry about that yet, sweetheart. How are you feeling now?” 

“Better than when I woke up.” 

“Yeah?” James asks hopefully. It’s a low bar, considering that early this morning the pain had been bad enough to cause you to pass out. But if there’s one thing James can be relied upon for, it’s a positive outlook. “That’s great, lovie. Is there anything you need?”

You shake your head, breaths shallowing as your cramps worsen. Nausea pinches the back of your throat. James’ face pinches, too, as he sees. He rubs your lower back where the muscles tend to clench. 

“Is there anything you want?” he asks instead. 

It almost makes you laugh. Almost, but even that’s enough to ease the pain slightly. 

“No,” you say, breathing out as the worst passes. James continues massaging your back. “Thanks.” 

“Maybe we could try a walk later, if you’re feeling better,” he says. “Some light exercise might help.” 

“Maybe,” you murmur. Truly, the thought of leaving this couch anytime during the next week makes you want to sew yourself into the cushions. James probably knows you’re only humoring him, but he doesn’t say anything. When you hug your heating pad closer, he spreads his palm flat over your back to transfer heat there, too. 

You relax some when the cramp eases the rest of the way. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take over your whole day.” 

“Sweetheart, why are you sorry?” James places his free hand over yours on your heating pad. Between that and the one on your back, it’s almost like a hug. “I know you don’t want this to happen. And, honestly, I’d rather have my day taken over by you than anyone else. Don’t tell Sirius.” 

That coaxes a small smile out of you. James grins, leaning down again to plant a kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry you’re so miserable.” 

“I’m not miserable,” you say. “I’m with you.” 

James makes a horrendously fond sound, cuddling you close. “You flatterer. I don’t know where you find the energy to be so sweet during times like this.” 

You make it easy, you want to say, but James will only think you’re playing along with him and you want to say it when he’ll hear the sincerity you mean it with. Instead, you intertwine your fingers with his and say, “I’ve thought of something I want.” 

“Yeah?” James sits up. He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, mindless of your clamminess. You think that maybe the only thing bigger than James’ capacity for love is how it feels to be at the center of it. “Some tea, maybe? That tumeric one helped a bit last time, remember?” 

“Maybe later,” you say, voice softening. “For now, could I please have a kiss?” 

James blinks once in surprise, but then he grins. “Ah, for the endorphins,” he says, already bending down. “Good thinking, angel.” 

“Right.” You don’t know where he gets these facts. You suspect he scrolls through endometriosis reddit forums while you’re asleep. “Yeah.” 

James makes it a kiss worth asking for. He keeps his hand flat over your back as he leans over you, the other cupping your cheek to encourage your face towards him. And when your lips part, you do feel a bit better. It’s a magical cure-all, just like the fairytales say.

[proto-language]

finally got my feedback from all last year's exams to go with the marks. absolute fucking gut-punch stuff. don't really know how i am meant to keep going except through sheer inertia.

[lord-squiggletits]

Man there's nothing wrong with genderbends as a concept but there's something lowkey infuriating about this fandom's tendency to take canonically gay (or at least, MLM) male characters and genderbend them into women like. Is that not at least a little bit uncomfortable for anyone else here or is it just me

[ariestrxsh]

❆ content warning: smut, use of toys, oral (f! & m!receiving), masturbation, cheating (kinda), getting caught, praise/degradation, voyeurism/exhibitionism, cuckold behavior, unprotected sex, threesome (ish), bf!chris, pervy!matt, gf!reader

❆ summary: chris buys you a dildo for christmas, and his brother matt, who has always had a thing for you stumbles upon you using it

Merry Chrattmas! 🤍 Sorry it's a little late. Inspired/requested by this ask.

Voyeur

"Alright, which one of you bought a sex toy?" Matt laughed after tearing open the package that had been left on the doorstep that morning without even bothering to look at the name of the recipient. He was holding up a glass dildo for the whole house to see. Nick's eyebrows flew up and his jaw dropped as his gaze meandered over to Chris from across the room.

"Give me that, asshole! What are you doing opening mail that isn't yours? What if it had been a gift for you?" Chris snarked, ripping the box and the toy out of Matt's hand. "Then I would have kindly asked you to return it," Matt chuckled, poking Chris in the side. Chris rolled his eyes.

"It's for my girlfriend, okay? Don't let her know that you've seen it, because she'd be really embarrassed," Chris responded, blushing. "I bet she'll look so good using it," Matt smirked, his imagination running wild.

It was no secret that Matt had always found you attractive. Everyone knew it. Chris knew it, Nick knew it, and even you knew it, but you'd oftentimes joke around, even to Matt's face, that you were a loyal Chris girl and that nothing could ever sway you.

Of course, Matt took this as a challenge and caused him to pine after you even more. You'd never admit to it, but you did secretly like the attention your boyfriend's brother gave you.

"Too bad you'll never know," Chris rolled his eyes at his brother's out-of-pocket comment and rushed off to his room to wrap the gift in private along with the pink Fresh Love hoodie he'd designed for you. He included a card in the gift that read:

"I hope you wear this hoodie and think of me the next time you get off without me. Merry Christmas, baby. I love you. Xoxo, Chris."

He scribbled in a poorly drawn heart at the bottom of the card. He swathed the box in gift wrap, tying a sparkly, pink bow around it and placing it under the tree.

It was only a few days later that you went over to your boyfriend's house to spend the night, and luckily, Nick was out for the evening, and Matt was on his way out, so the two of you were going to have the house to yourselves. It was the perfect opportunity for Chris to give you your present.

"You're going to love the gift my brother got you. It's gonna make you scream," Matt whispered into your ear and winked as he was getting ready to walk out the door. You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him, but your curiosity was sparked.

After he left, you and Chris sat in front of the fireplace in the glow of the burning wood and twinkling Christmas lights that were strewn around the tree. The scent of the sugar cookie candle that was burning down to the wick wafted through the air. Chris delicately placed the neatly-wrapped gift in your hand.

"I know it's not Christmas yet," Chris said with a warm smile, knowing you were the type of person who liked to wait until Christmas morning to open your gifts. You smiled back at him, fiddling with the pretty ribbon wrapped around it. "But?" You asked, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

"It's the kind of gift I want you to open alone," Chris responded, nervously biting his lip. You wrinkled your nose at him. Open alone? Too bad Matt knew what it was for whatever reason, you thought to yourself. You weren't sure where he was going with this, but that made it even harder to resist tearing open the gift.

"I'll make an exception. Just for you," you rolled your eyes in an endearing manner and began to tear off the wrap, revealing an unmarked box beneath the paper. You slowly removed the lid, and you gasped at the Fresh Love hoodie that was neatly folded on top.

It was your favorite color, and you clutched it close to your chest and gave your boyfriend an exhilarated smile. "Chris, I love it!" You glanced back down into the box where a card lay on top of some sparkly tissue paper. He'd made it himself, which made it that much more special. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you read the card aloud.

"Chris, what else is in here?" You wondered as you started rifling through the box. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped as you examined the glass toy, and you picked it up by the pink heart-shaped handle. "Chris.. it's so pretty," you whispered.

"Not as pretty as you using it, though, I'm sure," he gave you a cheeky grin and nudged you. "I don't know how. You should show me," you gave him a fake pout and batted your eyelashes at him. You did know how to use it, but you wanted Chris to be the first one to use it on you.

"Take off your clothes," he lustfully whispered as you handed off the dildo to him, a smirk playing in the corner of your lip. You pulled off your sweater, revealing that you had nothing on underneath, and you took down the waistband of your pajama pants and your underwear.

"Fuck, you're already wet," Chris noticed aloud as you slowly spread open your legs, his fingertips lightly grazing your skin. He leaned down and started trailing kisses up your inner thighs while you gently combed through his hair with your fingers as he neared your heat.

He licked a long stripe up your slit, subtly flicking his tongue across your clit once he got to it. He placed your toy at your entrance and slowly pushed it in. You squealed and clamped your legs down around Chris' head as you stretched around the glass dildo.

He began to gently fuck you with it, listening to the pretty sounds that fell from your lips as you threw your head back. You gripped his hair, tugging on it as he picked up the pace of his tongue, quickly flitting it over your bundle of nerves. He closed his lips down around it, humming against your clit, your legs shaking at the sensation.

The dildo didn't feel quite as good as having sex with Chris, but it was good enough that you knew it would satisfy you the next time you were turned on and missing him. He worked the toy in and out of you at a gradually quickening pace, and your hips started to move in unison with it.

"Chris, you're amazing," you breathlessly purred, and he chuckled with your pussy in his mouth. He could tell you were getting close. He didn't fluctuate, his motions remaining constant while his pretty blue eyes flicked up to meet yours. You rested your hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to keep eating you as your whole body started to tremble.

"Yes.. please.. just like that.. mmm.. gonna cum," you said in a series of broken moans. You felt yourself squeezing around the toy the same way your thighs were squeezing around Chris' ears, and before you knew it, you were coming undone at the seams.

The pressure that had spent so much time building in your core finally reached its breaking point. You bucked your hips, riding the toy and grinding against Chris' face as you finished. Your broken moans turned to fervent whimpers, and your whimpers turned to desperate screams, just like Matt had predicted. Your eyes wandered towards the back of your head.

Chris didn't take his gaze off you. He loved making you feel good, and he relished in the way your body reacted to orgasm. He thrust the toy in and out of you and licked your sensitive button until you were completely finished and pushing his head away.

"Oh my god," you said, trying to catch your breath and recover from the intensity of your climax. Chris came up for air, his lips and chin glistening in your fluids. "That was so hot," he said in a low, sexy voice. You took the toy from him and leaned in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue as the two of you passionately made out.

"You're so good at giving," you told him. "Gifts, I mean." The two of you laughed at your play on words. You both spent the rest of the night watching Christmas movies cuddled up on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa while the fire burned through the rest of the wood.

You and Chris eventually found your way to his bedroom where the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms tangled in the sheets. The warmth of his body wrapped around you and the comforting feeling of his hot breath on your neck was the last thing you remembered before you drifted off...

You awoke the next morning to Chris shifting around on the bed, and after you rubbed your eyes, you realized he was getting dressed to go somewhere. "Where are you going?" You asked in your sleepy voice.

"I'm going to go pick us up coffee and bagels. Just keep sleeping like a little angel, and I'll be back soon. I love you," Chris whispered, leaning down to kiss you and ruffle your hair.

You were hoping to sneak in a little early morning sex with him, but he was already putting his shoes on, and you figured you could just use the new toy he bought you while he was gone. "I love you, too," you responded in a sweet voice.

You watched him from your foggy window, flakes of snow starting to slowly fall from the sky. Your face lit up, excited that you were going to get your White Christmas after all. Chris blew you a kiss before he got into his car and sped off.

You sauntered over to the pretty box that held your gifts. You changed into the pink Fresh Love hoodie Chris had designed for you, and you twirled around in front of his big mirror, admiring how perfectly it fit you.

You reached for the phallic-shaped glass and held it in your hands, contemplating whether to wait until Chris got back or to use it. You decided on the latter, unable to contain yourself any longer.

While Chris was still out getting the two of you breakfast, Matt wandered in through the front door. He set his keys down, let out a sigh, and started off down the hall, completely unaware of what he was about to stumble upon.

He walked past Chris' room, but some movement out of the corner of his eyes caused him to stop dead in his tracks and take a couple steps back. He was surprised to find you there, considering he didn't think anyone was home.

What surprised him even more was what you were doing. You were laying on your back on Chris' bed in nothing but your pink hoodie, legs spread, and your pussy wrapped around the toy he'd accidentally opened in the mail a couple days earlier.

You were so enthralled with what you were doing that you didn't even hear him come in or see him as he leaned up against your door frame with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He raised an eyebrow as he studied the view, wetting his lips. It was everything he hoped it would be.

Your facial expressions were steeped in desire, ethereal moans rolling off your tongue, and your cunt stretching around the toy as you worked it back and forth. He immediately grew hard, watching you and imagining it was his cock pumping in and out of you.

Your eyes flickered up, realizing he was in the room with you. You gasped and shut your legs, holding the toy still inside of you as you clenched around it. "Please. Don't stop," Matt begged, reaching for the bulge in his pants and gently running his hand over it. "Keep going. Please. I just wanna watch," he softly begged.

It was so hard to see him stroke himself through his sweatpants and not do the same. You knew it was wrong to be feeling this way about your boyfriend's brother, but you felt your stomach drop as your eyes landed on the outline of his hard cock and before you knew it, you were spreading your legs back open and continuing to fuck yourself with your dildo.

"Does that feel good?" He asked you, and you timidly nodded at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He walked forward a few feet, coming around to the side of the bed to watch you more closely. He reached out and lightly brushed your cheek with the back of his hand.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you quietly told him, but you couldn't help the way you relaxed into his touch as he caressed your face. "It's not like I'm fucking you," Matt smirked, and as he said it, your mind was immediately filled with ideas about what it would be like to get fucked by him.

Matt brushed his thumb against your bottom lip and gently pushed it into your mouth. You accepted it and started lightly sucking on it while Matt reached into his sweats and pulled out his pretty cock. You were shocked at how similar it looked to Chris', and it made it even easier for you to justify to yourself that you weren't technically doing anything wrong.

You sped up the toy thrusting into you as Matt continued to poke and prod your mouth with his fingers while he fervently jerked off at eye-level with you. "Good girl," Matt whispered as he ran his other thumb over his tip, coaxing a shiny fluid to leak from it. You sped up the pace as you watched him.

You knew the two of you were crossing a line, but you couldn't help yourself. Matt was too busy watching your toy glide in and out of your hole, and you were too busy watching Matt fist his cock that neither one of you saw Chris standing in the doorway with bagels and coffee as he stumbled upon the two of you and the way you were each hungrily looking at one another.

"Oh yeah? So I'm out getting you breakfast and you're using the toy I got you in front of my brother?" He scoffed, breaking the two of you out of your trance and making each of you jump.

He expected this from Matt, but he was shocked to see this kind of behavior from you. Matt pulled his thumb out from between your lips, and you each brought your movements to a standstill.

The longer Chris fixed his eyes on the scene in front of him, the more he found himself getting turned on by you playing with yourself in front of his brother. "Don't let me stop you. At least let me enjoy the show," Chris said, setting down the bagels and coffee on his dresser as he made his way to the foot of the bed and sat down.

You and Matt were dumbfounded, wondering if this was some kind of test. You halfway expected Chris to get angry, break up with you, or even physically fight his own brother. Yet, he was calm, and he seemed like he might have even liked it.

"Come on. Keep going," Chris demanded, and after a moment of hesitation, you continued to pump your toy into your drooling hole. Matt stuck his pointer finger into your mouth, and you started lightly sucking on it. A soft sigh left Matt's lips as he imagined you sucking on a different appendage, and he went back to stroking his pretty cock.

As if Chris could read Matt's thoughts, he flicked his gaze over at you, "Why don't you help him out?" He asked, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth. You nodded and then looked back over at Matt who was putting his dick in your face that was silently begging to be sucked on.

You accepted him, wrapping your lips around his thickness as he started rocking his hips back and forth. He emitted a moan and his hand flew up to tangle itself in your hair. "Good girl," he softly purred, grabbing onto a fistful of your locks and pushing it further into your mouth.

He wasn't sure how far Chris would let him go with it, but he figured he'd test the boundaries until either one of you told him he was taking it too far. His other hand wandered between your legs. He started rubbing your clit, eliciting a moan from you that reverberated against his cock, leaving him with a lovely sensation.

"You're such a shameless little slut, aren't you? Letting my brother touch you in front of me as if I'm not your boyfriend?" Chris snarked at you, but you could tell by the luscious tone of his voice and the way he was stroking himself through his pants that he was getting off on what he saw.

"Come on, Matt. Fuck her pretty little face. She can take it. I promise," Chris encouraged him. He tightened his grip on your hair and did as Chris told him, jerking his hips forward triggering your gag reflex.

Matt continued drawing circles on your clit with the pad of his fingers as he stared into your watering eyes. His cock twitched against the back of your throat as he listened to the sound of you choking on him.

"Good girl. You take it so well. I wish I could fuck you," Matt purred. You moaned against Matt's length at the idea of him plowing you while your boyfriend watched. Chris was still gently rubbing his tip through the fabric of his pants as he watched the way you and Matt interacted with another.

"Merry Christmas, Matt. You can do whatever you want to her," Chris told him, getting harder and harder as his eyes flickered back and forth between the two of you. Matt's eyes twinkled as those words left Chris' lips.

"Oh, don't tell me that. I won't be able to control myself," Matt smirked, pulling his dick out from behind your lips with a pop. Matt grabbed the handle of your toy and slowly removed it from you and placed it on your nightstand.

"Go crazy. Can't you see how bad the little slut wants it?" Chris asked, staring down at the fucked out expression on your face and your pussy that was clenching around nothing.

Matt positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his cock teasing your hole. "You want it, don't you? You like the idea of getting fucked in front of your boyfriend?" Matt chuckled, breaching your entrance and beginning to gently rock his hips back and forth with only the first few inches of him inside you.

You slowly nodded, screwing your eyes shut as your jaw dropped at the change in sensation of Matt replacing your toy with his throbbing phallus. With every thrust, he pushed it in a little deeper until he was completely bottomed out inside of you, hitting the perfect spot.

The sounds of each of your moans dragging out and becoming louder as Matt pumped away. He placed your legs on his shoulders, fucking you harder and faster as you felt the pressure in your core building and building.

He pushed up your pink hoodie, revealing your perfect tits to him, and he gently squeezed one as he admired them. "Fuck, look at these," Matt whispered, pinching your nipple between the pads of his fingers, eliciting a soft mewl from you.

You could see Chris out of the corner of your eye moving towards you and coming around to the side of the bed. He took your hand in his and started caressing the back of it with his thumb. "Is he making you feel good?" He whispered into your ear before kissing your forehead. "Mhmm," you hummed delightfully.

It was always a fantasy of his to watch you get fucked by someone else, and although this wasn't exactly how he pictured it, he figured he couldn't let the opportunity go to waste.

"You take it like a little slut, you know that?" Chris cooed in your ear before latching onto your neck. You nodded, relishing in the way he spoke to you and the way his lips felt as he sucked on your sensitive flesh.

Matt loved the way it felt to be inside of you. He'd been fantasizing about it forever. He'd never admit it, but he'd stayed awake many nights, ear pressed up against Chris' door with his hand in his pants, listening to the sound of you getting fucked. He'd memorized the way your sweet little moans would slowly morph into seductive screams every time Chris would bring you to orgasm.

Now he was the reason pleasured noises were cascading from your lips, and he couldn't get enough. He knew you were getting close. "Oh, that's it," Matt grunted as he threw his head back, feeling you squeeze around his cock.

"Are you gonna cum for my brother?" Chris purred in your ear, recognizing the way your body was reacting and knowing you were about to finish. You looked into Chris' eyes and slowly nodded as the knot in your stomach came unraveled, your pussy rhythmically clenching around him.

"Good girl," Matt breathlessly whispered, pounding into you as hard as he could. Your pleasure reached a crescendo, and you heard a ringing in your ears and a strong buzzing throughout your body as you came undone on Matt's cock.

You couldn't see or think straight. All you could feel was an intense surge of pleasure followed by a wave of calmness washing over you as Matt's dick started to throb inside of you. He pulled out at the last second, painting your stomach in his load and pumping his cock back and forth with his fist until he had milked himself dry.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and his moans filled the room as he finished all over you. "Oh my god," he breathlessly whimpered, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. Chris' eyes followed the mess he made, his cock jerking at the sight.

"Hey, Matt. Just letting you know, this was a one-time thing, and if you're not out of here by the time I come to my senses, I might fucking kill you," Chris said sternly. Matt nodded, quickly pulling himself to his feet and tucking himself back into his pants before darting out of the room.

"Loyal Chris girl, huh?" Chris snarked at you, using your own words against you. "Chris.." you started to say, expecting him to get angry with you next. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at Matt either. I just wanted to see him run away like a little bitch," he told you, his lips curling into a devious smile.

"I actually really liked watching you two together," he admitted, biting his lip. Your eyebrows flew up in a look of surprise. You could tell he liked it, but you didn't think he'd confess to it. "Come on. Your coffee's probably cold by now."

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[sistertotheknowitall]

Danny is Some Guy with a not so secret admirer.

Part four? Post #four? I don’t know, none of these are exactly in order. Post one, post two, post three.

——

By the time Tim opened the door, Danny had his coffee made and handed to Mia at the register. He resolutely ignored her smug face and went back to making the other orders.

Tim had been a regular long before Danny had started at the coffee shop but it was three days into Danny’s third week when Tim had stumbled in at eight a.m. and did a double take upon seeing Danny. A very obvious double take followed by intense staring before Mia had cleared her throat. The blush that lit up Tim’s face was only rivaled by the one on Danny’s.

He had never had anyone openly stare at him before.

Mia had been insufferable ever since.

It also didn’t help that shortly after their first meeting Tim had started taking his breaks at the little coffee shop. It’s been three weeks, nearly a month and Wayne Enterprise’s CEO went from a bi-weekly regular to an everyday one. (Danny wondered if he should be concerned for the man’s caffeine intake but he only had the one cup every time so probably not.)

Originally, Danny had no plans to talk to Tim. It seemed obvious the guy had a crush on Danny if the constant looks over his laptop were anything to go by and Danny didn’t want to encourage it. Danny barely had time to make new friends let alone start a relationship.

There was also the added problem of what was quickly becoming his bat stalkers. How do you explain to someone that you were being watched by Gotham’s vigilante’s for no reason? (Or worse because he had made a poorly timed sleep-deprived comment.) Danny didn’t think you could without seeming suspicious.

Incidentally though, Danny’s plan went out the window when on a slow afternoon as he was cleaning tables and passed behind Tim. Once he saw the article the other man was reading he snorted.

Bruce Wayne and The Batman? Could This Be A New Romance For Gothams Most Beloved Billionaire?

It was one of those gossip rags that printed things like: Elvis: alive and well and Superman: a mild mannered farm boy? It was all nonsense.

Danny asked Tim why he bothered with the site and Tim responded that he found it amusing to read and that his family had a group chat where they sent the articles to each other.

“Okay. But Batman? Really? Your dad could do so much better.”

“You don’t like Batman?” Tim asked. Danny had slid into the chair next to him and shrugged. “I respect what he does but for as intimidating as he is, he also seems a little silly.”

Tim had given him an incredulous look and Danny hadn’t given him time to ask for an explanation, “and his kids can be just as rude. Like that flying monkey one.” Tim choked on air and Danny politely waited for him to calm down. “Kids? Wait - flying monkey one? Which one -?”

“The one always doing back flips with the blue bird symbol. He’s also a dick that gives hypocritical lectures about fighting.” Danny wouldn’t say he hated the guy but he wasn’t sure how many more lectures he could endure before going ghost and fighting him.

Tim had turned to Danny completely and was watching him with a look of disbelief, “you mean Nightwing?”

“Is that his name? Imma call him Dickwing.”

Tim had started choking again, this time Danny patted his back hoping to help. Yet it was all for not once he kept talking, “I think I’ve only had positive interactions with the one who looks like a walking red flag.”

“Red flag? Do you men hood-?”

“No, although he is definitely a red flag, I mean the other Red one. I’m sorry, I don’t know all these peoples names yet.”

“Danny!” Mia called.

Danny stood and patted Tim, who looked a little shell-shocked, on the shoulder. “Well work calls, see you later Mr. Drake-Wayne.” As he walked away he heard Tim mutter “it’s just Tim.”

(Tim for his part, placed his head in his hands and thought, well at least I have his name now.)

After that first interaction Tim stopped playing the lurker and started to actually talk to Danny and vise versa. Danny never asked if he still had a crush on him, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Unfortunately, their growing friendship had only encoraged Mia as she happily sang “your boyfriend’s here!”

Danny, very maturely, did not stick his tongue out at her. He did however flip her off under the counter like an adult.

[mariasont]

i loved lipgloss!!! i was wondering if i could pls request smth where spencer walks in the BAU unaware of the lipgloss on his lips from kissing bimbo!receptionist or on his cheeks from being kissed then everyone's like "👀☝️🤨" (english isnt my first language im sorry😭)

STICKY SITUATIONS - S.R

a/n: back with the lipstick trope yeehaw, can't tell you all how much i appreicate u all and how patient u guys are with me when i ghost for like 5 months at a time. thank you so much for the request sug <3

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: spencer daydreaming about inappropriate things! PDA!

wc: 1.1k

Spencer woke up feeling untouchable, like nothing in the world could shake him. The kind of invincible where even the sky didn't seem like a limit. You had stayed the night, as you often did, and yet every time he woke up with you beside him, it felt like walking on air. Today was no exception.

You made sure he was late today--both of you were. He blamed you entirely, though he didn't mind. You pinned him down with a thousand little kisses, laughing as you insisted that it's essential for a day filled with good luck, and how else was he going to catch all the bad guys without a little charm from you?

Spencer's body vibrated like it was attuned to some invisible, higher frequency, one you alone could set. The smile threatening to break free felt inevitable, like a law of nature, as his mind drifted to thoughts of you--so unavoidable it was as if trying to pinpoint an electron's exact position and momentum in time. 

He had half a mind to swing by the reception desk just to see you. Just for a second. He'd convince himself it was enough, even though it never really was. Today, though? There was no chance he'd make it to his meeting. Not when you were wearing that skirt--his favorite. The one that fit you like it had been hand-stitched by hand for you alone, showing off your thighs in a way that made him picture them around his--

"Reid, you're—," Hotch's voice snapped him back into reality, his brows down turning as he regarded Spencer with a curious frown before shaking his head. "Late. C'mon."

Spencer followed Hotch into the conference room, their entrance as routine as ever--or so he assumed. But the moment they stepped inside, something shifted. The air crackled with stifled laughter, a ripple of poorly contained snickers breaking out across the team.

He froze mid-step, confusion knitting his brow as he scanned the room. His gaze flitted from face to face, trying to uncover the source of their amusement. The laughter, he realized with growing bewilderment, was somehow aimed squarely at him.

His pulse quickened as self-awareness kicked in, and his eyes darted downward, trying to detect the anomaly that had captured everyone's damn attention. A loose thread? A stain? Panic bloomed in his chest as he mentally ticked through a list of possibilities. His sweater seemed intact--no wayward strings. His pants were fine, no errant coffee stains or wrinkles. And his hair--well, his hair always had a mind of its own, but it wasn't that unruly today. Right?

Bastards.

He cleared his throat. "Okay, what did I miss?"

Emily tried--and failed--to stifle her laughter, shaking her head in disbelief. "I think you might need to go to look in the mirror, lover boy."

Spencer didn't bother questioning her. No explanation would be offered, at least not freely. He knew he'd get no real answers from this group, and honestly, he wasn't even sure he wanted them at this point. Instead, he slipped out of the conference room and headed down the hall, his mind a muddled tangle of confusion.

He was so distracted--so consumed with trying to figure out what he'd missed--that he nearly missed the sound of quick, approaching footsteps. It was only at the last second that he looked up, just in time for you to collide with him. His hands moved instinctively, catching your waist as you stumbled forward, stopping you from toppling over.

Spencer's breath caught. Gods know if you'd fallen in those heels, you'd be lucky to escape with just a sprained ankle. But you didn't fall. Instead, you let out a startled giggle as you looked up at him wide-eyed.

"Whoopsie," you said with a smile. "Hi there, handsome."

The instant the words left your lips, you clamped a hand over your mouth, fighting back a high-pitched squeal of laughter.

Spencer, even more bewildered, furrowed his brows in confusion. "Okay, what?"

"Hold still," you instructed, though your voice wavered between stifled giggles. You reached up for him, your fingertips hovering near his face.

He followed your hand with his eyes, still clueless, until you gently cupped his cheek. Whatever it was on his skin drew another wave of laughter from you, and in response, he prodded at your sides, each poke sending you into another fit of delighted squeals.

"Hey, that's not holding still, Dr.!" you gasped, halfheartedly swatting at his hands while you finished wiping away the last bit of whatever had clung to his face.

"Whoopsie daisy," you said again, still brushing invisible flecks from his cheek, your voice reminding him of what he envisioned sunshine poured into a teacup would manifest as. "Aw, Spence, looks like I kinda-sorta-maybe left a tiny little lipstick stain behind."

Your tone was drenched in honeyed innocence, as if this kind of thing just happened and you had no earthly clue how.

Spencer's eyes narrowed. "Is that why I've been subjected to my team's thinly veiled harassment?"

Your eyes went wide, and you gasped as if you'd just witnessed a high crime. "They were giving you trouble? Oh my gosh!" You pressed your fingertips to your lips. "Do I need to have a word with them?"

The determination in your voice sounded all too serious, and he was a little scared that you were actually prepared to march back to that conference room in your pretty heels and give the entire BAU a piece of your mind.

Spencer nearly chocked on a laugh. Of all possible reactions, yours was the sweetest, most fiercely protective--and downright hilarious. He held up a hand in a placating gesture, lips curving into a boyish grin. 

"Hmm, I appreciate the offer," he murmured, gently tapping his chin with a finger as if considering it. "However, I think you might need to have a word with the real culprit who decided my face should double as her personal canvas this morning."

"Me?" You pressed a hand dramatically to your heart. "I would never! I mean, sure, I might've given you a million good-luck kisses before you left, and maybe one or two... or three of my lip gloss stains decided to stick around, but that's hardly my fault!"

You shifted your weight to the balls of your feet and wiggled your fingers in a helpless sort of gesture. "That's just how good my gloss is, y'know?"

"Right," he replied, voice quieter now, eyes warm as they traced your face. "Clearly the lip gloss is at fault. We'll have to issue it a stern warning later."

"Exactly! Don't blame poor, innocent me." You paused, lowering your voice conspiratorially, leaning close enough that he caught the faint scent of your perfume. "And if any of the team give you grief again, you know where to find me!"

Spencer hummed, placing a light hand on the small of your back, steering you gently away from the corridor.

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, smiling as if the world had just aligned perfectly in that very hallway. "But for now, maybe we should try to make sure I get back to my meeting... gloss-free."

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[deadsetobsessions]

Danny hadn't ever been on this side of the equation before.

He stared at his old phone, the prickle of unease scratching at his neck.

Danny was the one that died. He was the one that died and came back. He'd never asked anyone how it had felt to see him die over and over again to become Phantom. Danny was starting to think that maybe he should have, if only so that he wouldn't be blindsided about what he felt now.

"Danny? Y'okay?"

Danny glanced up at the mumbled words, numbed eyes looking at Jason's sleep-heavy face.

"Hm?"

"Ya've been lookin' at that thing for an hour now. You good?"

Danny blinked at him, like the world was a sea of bittersweet molasses and he was the sailor drowning beneath its waves. "...Remember how I told you that you reminded me of my sister?"

There was apprehension on Jason's face now. It was a gentle kind of apprehension, softened by worry and love.

“Yeah…?”

Danny gestured for Jason to come closer. He opened the phone and tapped on Jazz.

“Woah. She kinda looks like me.” Jason tugged at his black hair. “Y’know, if I kept my red hair.”

Danny smiled, sad and tired. “Yeah. She really liked reading. And she always wanted to know more. Help more. Like you,” Danny’s eyes laid on the folded uniform of Robin on the kitchen table. He hugged Jason closer. “You remind me of her.”

“What… what happened to her?”

Danny hadn’t cried for a long, long time. Even when Jazz spoke to him in half remembered whispers and in Jason’s actions, he could not shed a tear. But something about today, something about those pictures, opened up a poorly scabbed wound and Danny’s face dripped with slow tears.

“She died,” he whispered. “I brought the vigilante life to her and she died protecting me.”

“Oh. That’s why you were so mad, then.” Jason looked down at the picture, blue eyes tracing the face of the woman that looked so similar to him.

“Yeah.”

“I won’t die, Danny,” Jason promised.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Jay." Danny squeezed Jason's shoulders before wiping away his tears. He inhaled, a slow, shuddering breath, before straightening. "You are so grounded."

"But- Robin!"

"Jason will always come before Robin. And Jason is grounded because Jason lied to me about being Robin and where he was going and whether or not he was safe."

And really, wasn't that the crux of the issue? Danny didn't have any problem with Jason going out and starting fights. He had no problem with how Jason wanted to help. But the thought of loosing him- loosing his loved ones after only learning to keep them clutched to his heart before he looses them- drove Danny down a spiral that he could not afford to enter again.

How many times had Danny almost lose Jason? How many times did he come to loosing the only good thing in Gotham? How many times had he laid asleep, not knowing whether Jason was bleeding out in an alley somewhere? How close had Danny come to waking up to news of Jason's cold corpse?

It made him furious. More than that, it made him terrified. Never in his half life had he ever been afraid to this extent. Not even for Jazz. It made him want to drown the feeling with enough booze to down a speedster. But he couldn't. Not now, not with Jason. His little brother deserved better than that. Not to mention the shit his little brother would get up to if he weren't fully there.

"But first, you gotta help me with something."

"... Fine."

Danny got up and bee-lined towards his booze stash. They're going out. Right now. He shoved the bottles into a tote bag.

"Let's go. We're destroying this."

"We are?"

"I can't be drunk and teach you how to vigilante."

"You're okay with me being Robin?" Hesitant blue eyes peered up at him. Danny's heart melted, the traitorous little shit.

"Not really. But I can't stop you, so I might as well make sure you live past 25." He jabbed Jason's forehead. "And I'll be reaming out Batman the next time he swings by, now that I'm not pissed as hell. I'll make sure it hurts."

"He's not that bad."

Danny sent him an unimpressed look and Jason mimed zipping his mouth closed, twisiting an imaginary key and throwing it over his shoulder. The little shit thinks he's got jokes. (He does, but Danny's supposed to be mad with him right now, so he'll never admit he thinks Jason's funny.)

They walked out of the apartment complex and turned to the right, right into the alley.

Did his heart give a little twinge every time Jason tossed the booze? Yes. But the hopeful thrill in his little brother's countenance made up for every single penny he spent.

"So... How long am I grounded for?"

At the reminder, Danny's hands clamped around one of the last bottles a little harsher than necessary.

"You... are grounded for- till college." He gritted out, tossing the bottle.

Jason's horrified "For- till college?!" rang nicely against the shattering of Danny's booze. Danny grinned and gave Jason a noogie.

"For till college," He affirmed, joking tone making Jason grumble, struggling to get out of the hold. "Or, for like, a week."

---

"Hey, Danny?"

Danny grunted, rousing slightly from his nap on the couch. They had been watching a show in the middle of Jason's grounding when he had drifted off.

"Did I ever tell you I had a brother?"

Danny's eyes flew open. "... No. Do you want to?"

Danny swiveled his head to look at Jason, who sat with his back against the couch and his head set aglow by the light of the TV. He looked... sad. Lonely.

"His name was Danny too."

Danny's heart shot right up to his throat. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He died." Danny couldn't help the thought that passed him. Me too, buddy, me too. "I thought you were him. 'S why I talked ta ya, even if y're drinkin'."

Danny tilted his head back, silently closing his eyes in grief. It was fate, that wily Ancient.

"Is that... bad?"

"Nah. You're as good a brother as he was."

"Thank you for telling me, Jason."

"Whatever."

Danny laid back down, the thread of a memory all but confirming his theory.

"Come on, Danny-o, Jazz was being a good sister!"

Five year old Danny pulled the blanket up to his chin, pouting. His mother laughed.

"That's right, sweetie. She was trying to make sure you didn't get sick."

"I don't want Jazz! I want- I want a brother instead!"

His parents exchanged amused looks. "Well, Danny-o, you almost had a brother."

"Really?" Danny turned around, curious.

"Really. If Jazz was a boy, we would have named him Jason!" His dad laughed, ruffling his hair.

Danny wrinkled his nose. "Ew. I like Jazz better... oh."

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

I may go into more detail about “Sinsmas” later, but I did want to talk about what I considered to be the one scene/sequence that I thought was very well done and that I truly enjoyed—Octavia’s song, “I Will Be Okay”.

(Song/Character Discussion below)

Octavia’s song is almost everything I could have asked for. A somber echo of Stolas’ song from season 1, Octavia’s I Will Be Okay, finally, finally, gives Octavia a voice and the chance to express her grief over her father’s abandonment.

For the first time in the series, there’s no one to tell Octavia that she should give her dad some slack or that she should forgive him. She’s finally allowed to be upset, to fully mourn her relationship with Stolas and to get mad about what happened. She’s finally allowed to start working towards accepting the ways Stolas’ neglected her, and begin healing from that pain and trauma.

Octavia’s experience is both terribly heart-wrenching and, in the most painful way, freeing. The lyrics reflect that perfectly, with Octavia acknowledging that while she’s not okay now because of everything Stolas put her through, she WILL be okay, and will grow into her own person without him.

The song is a direct response to Stolas’. Octavia is answering him, saying “Yes, I will be okay. Not because of anything that you were supposed to or failed to provide me as a father, but because I will forge my own path, and in doing so will heal from the pain you caused me.”

It’s a bittersweet song about finding the strength to cut contact with someone you loved who has repeatedly failed you in the worst ways, and who isn’t going to change.

I do have one “criticism” for this song and sequence, not because anything from it was poorly done, but because, in my opinion, the song’s visuals could have been even better.

The following scene was in the original storyboards for “I Will Be Okay”, and was changed in the final episode:

I think the decision to change the visuals for these lyrics in the song was a mistake. Please don’t get me wrong, the animation in this entire episode was fantastic, my critiques of Helluva Boss are almost never about the animation.

But the above sequence just has so much more emotional weight to me. It’s the visualization of Octavia realizing she can’t rely on Stolas, that she has to look to herself for comfort.

Octavia taking her younger self from her neglectful father’s arms, symbolizing that she’s accepted that Stolas cannot be depended on and that she’ll have to take care of herself now, is such a powerful image.

It really is a shame to me that they cut this scene, because I think it fully encapsulates everything Octavia has been through in such a simple and effective way. I think the scene really loses something by cutting this visual.

With all of that said though, Octavia’s song, and the scene where she FINALLY calls Stolas out for his behavior were very cathartic for me. I know that the scene’s intent was most likely to make us empathize with Stolas for losing his daughter, but I found myself empathizing only with Octavia, and hoping that she gets the time she needs to heal.

I would love it if the show actually let her decide whether or not she wants Stolas back in her life, but given the way HB’s writers portray women, I worry that it’s likely some big event will happen that “reveals” Stella to be awful, and Octavia will forgive Stolas just like that, and will probably end up apologizing to him instead (like in “Seeing Stars”)

Anyway, just like Octavia being the only good thing in Stolas’ life, “I Will Be Okay” was, in my opinion, the only good thing in “Sinsmas”. (well that and Octavia calling Stolas out)

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. she has choices she should make i think she’s choosing it right now.

09, CHAPTER NINE. LET ME GO.

ju speaks. i sincerely apologize for the delay on this. i still think it’s poorly written despite the fact that i rewrote it so many times but i needed to get it out lol. i’m breaking hearts but i promise you’ll be somewhat satisfied with the ending. features some more crash out paige but more in a player’s prayer type of way… alsooo please vote on this. pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x female!oc. warnings. angst, maya appearance (she comes in peace)???

flashback, july 2022.

it feels like another lifetime—back when everything was louder, sharper. we were at that point where the distance between us wasn’t just physical but emotional, and it seemed like every call was another argument.

i almost didn’t make it to nai’s birthday in la that year. she was already stuck there because of her internship, and it was the one time she really wanted me there. we’d fought for days leading up to it, about God knows what, as usual. it always started with something small, like a misunderstanding or something i said without thinking, and then it snowballed. the kind of arguments that made you feel like you were suffocating in your own words, digging your heels in just to avoid apologizing.

but then… it was her birthday, and i couldn’t stand the thought of missing it, even though we couldn’t seem to stay on the same page. i almost said, fuck it, and didn’t go. but i knew i would regret it, so i pulled myself together and got on that damn plane.

i was in connecticut, locked into summer workouts with the team, drowning in exhaustion, trying to get through the motions and keep myself healthy. i kept putting off calling her, though, too busy wallowing in the mess we’d made, thinking about how far away we were, how it was easier to fight than make up.

but then that morning came. i called her in the middle of my frustration, half-hoping she’d just pick up and yell at me because, hell, i didn’t know how else to make things right. and when she did, when she finally answered and said she was waiting for me, everything felt like it clicked into place again.

we barely got to speak that day. the others were around, laughing, singing, but all i could do was watch her. nai. there she was, sitting across from me, a quiet storm in the way she held herself. i could’ve sworn everything about her felt like home in that moment, even when it was all so messed up. and when they started singing “happy birthday,” she was still just the only damn thing i could focus on. how she looked. how she sounded. how she made everything feel like it was meant to be, even when we were fighting for our lives.

i was supposed to be done with her. more importantly, she was supposed to be done with me. i told myself that a million times. but the truth was, the more she tried to leave it all behind, the harder it got to stay away.

and all i could think was, i’m not done with you. i’m never going to be done with you.

present day, july 2025.

“you still watching her?”

rickea’s voice broke through, her sneakers squeaking against the court as i dribbled my ball against the hardwood almost absentmindedly. it’s a game day. crew is here, some of the team, but kea, cam and i had been about an hour earlier than shoot around just for the hell of it.

“i’m not watching her,” i snapped back with a low grunt, lining up my jumper. it bounced right off the rim, almost to taunt me, and i didn’t miss the way rickea’s smirk widened. my head isn’t in this game. it probably won’t be by the time seven rolls around either.

i was watching. too hard. nai had noticed only once, and instead of waving me off or sending me a smile, she looked away and pretended it didn’t even happen.

“yeah, okay. so how’d you know i was talking about nai?”

i shot kea a side glance, annoyed that she’d even said her name out loud. “got her there,” cam chimed in, strolling over from the other side of the court with her own ball. she leaned against it, watching me with an all-too-knowing grin. “you two been a little quiet lately.”

i hesitated for just a second. not long enough for anyone else to notice—at least, i hoped not—but just enough to think about the silence between nai and me. quiet wasn’t even the word for it. it was like being stuck in a purgatory i couldn’t escape, knowing exactly what i wanted to say but being too damn scared to say it.

i hated how easily my thoughts drifted to her, even now, with kea and cam prying at me. i could still feel the last conversation we had replaying in my head—the way her words had cut deeper than she probably even realized. she probably didn’t even mean for them to. she said it like she didn’t. no more half-steps.

i know what i want.

i don’t know if i’m capable of getting it and keeping it.

and i couldn’t keep expecting her to wait around for me to figure it out.

“it’s called being busy,” i shot back, offering a forced smile that would hopefully get them off my back. it didn’t. “you know, prepping for a game? the thing we’re all ‘posed to be doing right now?”

“yeah, we’re busy,” cam said, dragging out the word like it was some great revelation. “but you’re distracted, and we know why.” she raised an eyebrow, looking like she was having way too much fun at my expense. “when was the last time you two even talked?”

“oh, wait,” kea interjected, putting a hand to her ear like she was trying to remember something. “was it that awkward ‘hi’ in the tunnel yesterday? or did you manage a full sentence this time?”

“ha, ha,” i deadpanned, dribbling my ball almost aggressively to drown them out. “check up, bro. let’s see who’s focused,” i said with the smuggest smile on my face, tossing the ball to rickea and squaring up in front of her.

“you’ve got a lot of nerve for someone who been bricking shots all morning,” kea pointed an accusatory finger at me, and i rolled my eyes, pulling up my joggers.

“less talk.”

she jab-stepped left, then tried to blow past me, but i was ready, cutting her off with a quick shuffle to the side. “nah,” i mumbled, poking the ball loose and snagging it before she could recover. “try again next time.”

“you’re feeling yourself now, huh?” kea challenged, jogging back to defend as i dribbled toward the hoop.

“always,” i shot back, faking right before crossing over to my left. i breezed past her and went up for an easy layup, the ball spinning perfectly off the backboard before dropping through the net.

as soon as my feet hit the ground, i turned to cam, sticking my tongue out at her like a kid who just won a playground game, sticking a big, fat ‘L’ on my forehead. “too slow!” i said, grinning as i jogged backward toward the three-point line.

“one layup isn’t a highlight reel!”

i was about to fire back when it happened—nai walked by on the sideline, clipboard in hand, her focus seemingly on the players warming up. but just as i turned to look, she glanced my way and caught me mid-stare. she didn’t look away this time, and before i could think too much about it, she gave me a smile. not one of her usual polite, professional smiles, but something softer. brief but intimate, just enough to pull me in and spit me right back out when she turned away again. it was so quick, i almost convinced myself it didn’t happen.

my heart did this annoying little flip, and i nearly tripped over my own feet as i turned back to the game. the ball rickea had passed came flying toward me, smacking me lightly in the chest.

“oh, my God, we lost her again.”

the door to the supply room squeaked as i nudged it open with my shoulder, balancing a stack of extra towels in one hand and my clipboard in the other. game days were always crazy—organized crazy, thanks to me—but i was good at it. every minute was accounted for, every detail triple-checked. there was no room to think about anything else, and i liked it that way.

setting the towels on the shelf, i glanced down at my clipboard, double-checking the inventory count against my list. the sound of faint footsteps caught my attention, and i glanced over my shoulder. my heart dropped—i think to my ass—when i saw her.

maya.

she hovered in the doorway, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, her expression hesitant. it was a strange look for her—maya never hesitated. she moved like she always knew exactly where she stood, always so sure. but now? now she just looked… conflicted. i think everything that happened knocked her down a notch.

my first instinct was to tell her to leave, but i refrained. “hey,” i said finally, turning fully to face her. my eyes narrowed slightly as i studied her. “what’s up?”

she stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind her, and suddenly the room felt smaller. “can we talk for a second?” she asked, shifting on her feet.

i leaned back against the shelf, crossing my arms over my chest. “talk about what?”

maya hesitated, her eyes flickering to… well, everything but me before meeting mine again. “about everything,” she said softly, almost like she wasn’t sure the words would come out. “about… you, me, paige. all of it.”

“you don’t have to do this.”

“i think i do,” she replied quickly, almost too quickly, like she’d been waiting for the chance to say it. “i just… i wanted to say i’m sorry, nai. for everything. for how it all played out.”

i studied her for a moment, trying to gauge how much of this was for me and how much of it was for her. “i should’ve told you.” still, it was hard to hold onto any lingering anger when she looked at me like that—like she genuinely meant it. “about me and paige. i shouldn’t have kept it from you, maya. that was fucked up.”

maya’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes dropping to the floor for a moment. “yeah,” she said softly, almost like she hadn’t expected me to admit it. “maybe. but i wasn’t exactly innocent either.” she glanced back. “i should’ve walked away when i realized.”

“realized what?” i asked, tilting my head, though i already had a feeling i knew the answer.

her laugh was small, humorless. “i mean… it was obvious, nai.”

i froze, still gaining the nerve to ask, “obvious how?”

maya raised a brow, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “oh, you’re serious.” she shook her head lightly, as if the answer should’ve been clear. “even when you weren’t saying it out loud, it was all over your faces. the way you talked to each other, the way you didn’t.”

i feel terrible. “maya—“

“it’s not a dig,” she interrupted, holding up her hands. “it’s just… the way you two are. it’s not something you can really hide, nai. trust me, i tried to ignore it. thought maybe i was overthinking or projecting or whatever. but i wasn’t.”

i swallowed, hard, trying to find the right words, but nothing felt like enough. maya sighed, leaning back against the door like she was anchoring herself there.

“look,” she said, softening her words up as if i was fragile. “i get it. you don’t owe me anything. but i wanted to tell you that i talked to paige.”

my head snapped up at that, her name alone making my heart skip. “you did?”

maya nodded, her eyes steady on me. “on the phone a few nights ago. i needed to get it off my chest, you know? everything that went down… it was a mess. and i don’t think paige even realized how much of it was on her until we talked.”

i nodded, and she continued.

maya squinted at me. “paige said she loves you.” the words didn’t sound new. paige had been telling me she’s loved me since high school—sometimes with her words, sometimes with her actions, and sometimes in the quiet spaces between. so why did it strike me like a blow this time? “and i believe her. but… i don’t know. does it ever feel like she only tries when she’s scared you’ll leave?”

my breath caught, and for a moment, i couldn’t think of anything to say. the question wasn’t meant to hurt me—at least, it didn’t feel that way—but it landed right where it was supposed to. deep, direct, in the places i tried not to think about too much. i was immediately defensive. “you can’t—“

maya tilted her head slightly, studying me like she was trying to figure out how much of this i already knew. “maybe not. but it’s worth asking, isn’t it?”

i wanted to deny it. to tell her she didn’t understand, that she didn’t see the weekends during college, the little moments that no one else got to witness. the times when paige showed up, not because she was scared of losing me but because she wanted to be there.

but maya wasn’t entirely wrong, was she? there were times when it felt like paige’s love came in waves—strong and all-encompassing when the fear of losing me loomed, and quieter, more distant, when she felt secure. it wasn’t that she didn’t love me; it was just… complicated.

“she tries,” i said finally, convincing myself of it. “paige does try. maybe it’s not perfect, but she loves me. i know that.”

maya’s lips pressed into a thin line. “i just needed to say that. to let you know i’m sorry for my part in all of this. and… i hope it works out. for you and paige.”

i could see the sincerity in her eyes. she wasn’t here to stir the pot or make things worse. she was here because she cared, even if her timing was terrible.

“thanks,” i said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

and then she was gone, leaving me alone in the supply room with her words ringing in my ears. i leaned back against the shelf, closing my eyes as the weight of it all settled over me.

maya’s voice played on a loop in my mind: paige only knows how to love when she’s afraid of losing something.

and for the first time, i wondered if maya was right.

i’d gotten to the office earlier than usual, telling myself it was because i had work to do. but really, i just wanted to be alone. birthdays used to mean something, but now they felt more like a reminder of how much had changed. the kind of day where you couldn’t help but take stock of everything and everyone in your life—who was still there, who wasn’t, and who only came around when it suited them.

my desk was a mess of papers and sticky notes i didn’t feel like sorting through. i kept staring at my laptop screen, pretending to work while my mind wandered. i thought about the flowers that would probably show up later from people i barely spoke to. the texts i’d get from coworkers who’d remember because of a calendar alert. and, of course, i thought about paige.

the no-contact rule was still in place, and even though i knew she was respecting it, part of me still wondered if that was her way of playing it safe. keeping distance until she was sure i wasn’t going anywhere. that had always been how it felt between us, and i couldn’t help but think that today, of all days, would be the one day she might break the silence.

and i was right. “we can make an exception for a national holiday, right?” she teased.

there she was, leaning in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. her grey nike tech was speckled with rain droplets, her hood pulled up but not doing much to hide the strands of blonde hair sticking to her forehead. still, her eyes found mine instantly, scanning me like she was trying to read me before i even said a word.

“paige,” i dragged out, my name on her lips almost like a scolding, but the slow upturn of my smile completely gave me away.

she bit back her own grin, her lip caught between her teeth. “happy birthday, nai.”

i stood up, the flowers still in her hand as i crossed the space between us. she handed them to me without a word, and i hugged her almost instinctively. she was still damp from the rain, but it didn’t matter.

“you’re very early,” i said into her shoulder, my words muffled.

“nah, this is perfectly timed,” she replied, pulling back slightly but keeping her hands on my shoulders. her thumbs pressed gently into them like she knew how tense i’d been all morning. “besides, i didn’t wanna risk showing up and missing you.”

i rolled my eyes playfully. “you think i’d skip out on my own birthday?”

she smirked. “i dunno. you don’t exactly seem excited about it.”

“hmm,” i paused, screwing my eyes shut as i leaned into the massage. “it’s too early to be excited,” i shot back.

“fair,” she settled, tilting her head as her thumbs hit just the right spots. “nika and them flyin’ in today.”

that pulled a genuine smile at me. she mentioned it a bit ago, how some of her old teammates would be coming to see her play soon. “yeah? when’re they landing?”

“this afternoon. nika texted me last night about it,” paige said, and i can’t help but think about how good we are at this small talk thing. it’s so easy to get lost in what feels normal. “we play storm in two days, so… figured we’d spend some time together before the game.”

i nodded, knowing nika had been one of the constants in paige’s life since their freshman year at uconn, and i’d always admired the way their friendship seemed to hold its own weight, no matter what else was happening around them.

“i’m assuming you wanna see them,” paige added.

“duh,” i replied easily, cracking one eye open to give her a pointed look.

“i’ll set sum’ up,” she replied, and i nodded. her hands stayed on my shoulders, pausing just long enough to tap them before stepping back. “you good? you seem… off.”

i hesitated, caught off guard by the question even though i shouldn’t have been. paige had always been good at reading me, sometimes better than i wanted her to be. “yeah,” i said quickly, too quickly. “just… long morning already.”

“mmhm,” she replied, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t push. instead, she leaned against the edge of my desk, her hands slipping into the pockets of her hoodie.

“you sure?” she asked again after a moment, and i knew i wouldn’t be getting away with saying nothing.

she stated at me, and i found my lies slipping away. my mouth fell wider with each passing second, and when her eyes darted to my lips, i seemed to snap up out of it, busying myself with the tax of fixing an already perfect vase of flowers onto my desk. “i just—i talked to maya.”

i could hear paige shift in front of me before letting out a quiet chuckle. “okay,” she said, dragging the word out like she already knew where this was going. “what she say?”

her tone was casual, but when i looked up at her fully turned figure, she had that look in her eyes—guarded, careful, like she was already bracing herself. “nothing bad,” i started, furrowing my eyebrows. “just… stuff about us. about how things went down.”

paige raised a brow, crossing her arms over her chest as she tilted her head slightly. “uh-huh. like what?”

“like how it always feels like you only show up when you’re afraid of losing something.”

i couldn’t help but watch her, waiting for her reaction. for her to say something, anything.

paige’s posture shifted immediately, her arms tightening over her chest as her lips pressed into a thin line. “you letting her feed you bullshit again, nai?” she asked.

“don’t do that. it’s not bullshit,” i replied. “it’s how it feels sometimes.”

“to who? you?” she challenged, taking a step closer. her eyes searched mine, narrowing slightly, but there was no malice in them—just frustration. “or maya? ’cause she loves spinning her little stories, and you know that.”

“paige.” i sighed, shaking my head as i tried to keep the conversation from spiraling. i didn’t exactly want to argue. “this isn’t about maya. it’s about me, about us.”

“nah, you just said you talked to her,” paige shot back, gesturing vaguely toward me. “and now you’re standing here like she knows me better than you do. like she knows us better than we do,” she argued, adding a, “c’mon, that’s not fair.”

“isn’t it, though?” i asked, meeting her gaze head-on. “you’re here now, but only because it’s my birthday. because you knew i’d expect you to show up.”

paige’s eyes flickered away for a split second, down to her pocket, before snapping back to mine. “you really think that’s the only reason i’m here?”

i didn’t say anything. i didn’t need to—the look on my face must’ve told her everything.

her shoulders dropped slightly, and she let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “that’s crazy, nai. you know that’s crazy, right?”

“it’s not about how i see you, pai—“

her expression had hardened, like she’d put up a wall i couldn’t reach past. “you know what? maybe you’re right. maybe this whole thing is just me showing up when it’s convenient.”

“you know that’s not what i meant.”

“nah,” she cut me off, stepping back toward the door. “if that’s how you feel, then what am i even doing here? clearly, it don’t matter.”

“it does matter,” i said quickly, but the words didn’t seem to land. fuck, i’m an idiot.

“not to you, it don’t,” she replied, her voice clipped. she paused for a second, her hand on the doorknob, before turning back to look at me. “it’s cool. you got your flowers. happy birthday, nai.”

and just like that, she was gone. the click of the door felt louder than it should’ve, and i stood there, staring at the empty space she left behind, wondering how we managed to end up here—again.

“nai… she… fuck, nika.”

i swirled the half-melted ice in my glass. the bourbon wasn’t hitting the way i needed it to, but it was definitely hitting. i don’t drink fucking bourbon. i’m sure i’d drink about a gallon of it right now though. “we had this argument earlier. it’s like she doesn’t see how hard i’m trying, you know? like she’s convinced i only show up when i’m scared i’m losing her or something.”

nika leaned back in her seat, eyebrows raised. “those her words, or yours?” she asked, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“hers,” i mumbled, tipping the glass back for a too-big sip.

“damn.” right!?

i scrubbed a hand down my face, leaning into the bar like it could hold me up. my stomach twisted, and for once, it wasn’t from the alcohol. “she just—she don’t get it, you know? like, yeah, i fucked up before, but i’m trying now. i’m really trying, and she doesn’t even see it. she doesn’t even try to see it. at least i’m trying, like—“

“maybe ease up on the drink first before you start spiraling,” azzi cut in from the other side of the bar. she was nursing a soda, her judgmental stare boring into me like an older sister i didn’t ask for.

i shot her a glare. “you’re ‘posed to be team paige.”

“i am team paige,” she said, crossing her arms and smiling sweetly. i stuck my tongue out at her.

the bar in nika’s hotel was louder than i expected for a wednesday night. maybe it was the group of us taking up the corner table, or maybe it was just me being on edge. i felt like i was moving through the motions, laughing when everyone else did, nodding along to conversations i wasn’t really following.

it all started to show as soon as the alcohol kicked in. i could feel myself slipping, letting it take me to that reckless place i always ended up in when it came to her. i stared at my phone, the glow of the screen blurring slightly as i typed out another text. i didn’t care if she was out, if she was at her party surrounded by people who probably cared more than i ever showed. i just needed her to hear me.

and here i was, sitting in a damn hotel bar, drunk as hell, making everything worse just because i couldn’t leave her alone. but i texted.

and texted and texted and texted.

paige: so youure just gonna ignore me? 10:21pm

bet

paige: you wouldnr even be mad rn if you just let me fix it 10:24pm

but you don’t rven want to let me try bro

paige: i hate when we don’t talk 10:26pm

can we talk?

the words blurred slightly as i reread them, but i didn’t delete anything. instead, i kept going, typing out every thought that popped into my head, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

paige: please baby jus wanna hear your voice 10:27pm

paige: i came w my mind made uo today 10:31pm

i just couldn’t sau it i’m so sorry

could’nt give it to you

delivered. delivered. delivered. not a single one read.

my phone buzzed in my hand, and for a second, i thought it was another notification. but no—her name lit up the screen, a call coming through. my heart jumped into my throat. i stared at it, frozen, until it rang out.

“shit,” i mumbled, fumbling with the phone as i stumbled out of my seat.

nika grabbed my arm to steady me. “where you going?”

“outside,” i mumbled, shoving my phone into my hoodie pocket.

the rain hit me as soon as i stepped out, the cold shocking enough to sober me up just a little. i ducked under the hotel’s awning, the noise of the rain hitting the roof above me almost drowning out the sound of my phone. my fingers shook as i called her back. the phone rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail. i swore, pulling my hand into my jacket pocket.

well, the first call goes to voicemail.

the second one does too.

i try a third time, pacing.

finally, the line clicks. “paige,” nai says, and i can hear the hesitance in her voice. i can hear it, and i hate that i put it there.

“nai,” i breathe, her name coming out in a rush. the rain’s loud on my end, and i know she can hear it. “i—i’m sorry, okay? just—please don’t hang up. i had to talk to you. i can’t… i can’t keep doin’ this, fuck—“

“you’re drunk?” she asks flatly. i could hear the music in the background, and i conclude that she probably hadn’t seen my texts.

“you’re mad at me…” i continued. “i get it… i walked out on you, but you could barely look at me today, and—“

“paige, shut up. where are you?”

“outside nika’s hotel,” i muttered, wiping my face with my sleeve even though it didn’t help.

“stay there,” she said, and the line went dead.

a party hadn’t been my only surprise tonight. hell, it hadn’t been my only surprise of the entire day.

i should’ve been celebrating, right? enjoying the fact that people cared enough to throw me this party, that everyone had gathered in one place for me. but all i could think about was paige. and everything that came with her.

i hadn’t expected to hear from her at all tonight, let alone get the damn text messages that practically screamed desperation. though, half of me still passed on the alcohol for tonight as some kind of gut feeling. i knew she was drunk. i could tell from her words—hell, i could tell from the way she sent them in a blur, as if she couldn’t hold the phone still long enough to type a single coherent sentence.

i should’ve been upset. angry even. all those stupid things she’d done, all the mess she’d made, all the times she’d promised to change and then didn’t—it all came rushing back. i should’ve been furious. but there i was, standing in the middle of a damn party, my damn party, staring at my phone like it held the answers to every question i’d ever asked.

and then came the call.

it wasn’t even a question of if i would answer. i couldn’t not.

“nai,” her voice came through, shaky and full of guilt. “i—i’m sorry, okay? just—please don’t hang up. i had to talk to you. i can’t… i can’t keep doin’ this, fuck—”

i had to step away from the group. i couldn’t focus on anything but her voice, the sound of it cracking through the static, pulling at something deep inside me. the music in the background was too loud, but i heard every word she said.

“you’re drunk?” i asked, my voice flat, trying not to let the frustration leak through.

“you’re mad at me…” she trailed off, and i knew exactly where this was going.

her text messages had been pleading, full of “baby, please”s and “i’m sorry”s, but this? this felt different. it wasn’t just her trying to get me to forgive her. it was her trying to convince me to fully let her in again. it was her realizing i was slipping. again.

and there couldn’t have been any more confirmation.

i drove through the rain, the windshield wipers squeaking as they tried to clear the downpour. i pulled in front of the hotel’s awning, the lights from the sign reflecting on the wet pavement. i killed the engine and just sat there for a moment, my fingers gripping the steering wheel as i took a deep breath.

the knock on my window pulled me from my thoughts. i glanced up, and there was nika, standing in the rain, her coat pulled tightly around her. i rolled the window down just enough to hear her.

“she’s over there,” nika said, nodding towards the edge of the awning, her finger pointing to one of the hotel’s pillars. “she wouldn’t come inside or anything until you got here.”

i stared at the spot for a second. the rain was coming down so hard, the air was cold for it being summer, and paige was still out there, waiting. waiting for me. i didn’t know if that made it worse or better.

“thanks,” i muttered, forcing a tight smile. nika didn’t say anything else, just gave me a quick nod before heading back inside. i guess she figured this wasn’t a time for pleasantries.

i got out of the car, the rain immediately soaking through the jacket i threw over the nice blouse cam had gifted me. i could hear paige before i saw her, her voice cutting through the sound of the rain.

“nai, baby, look, i swear i didn’t mean to fuck everything up—”

“paige,” i interrupted. i couldn’t let her ramble on, not like this. “you don’t need to explain anything right now. just—”

“no, no, just listen! i’m so sorry,” she cut me off again. she took a step closer, and i pushed at her hips, trying to keep her at a distance. “i know i messed up. i know i fucked up, so many times. but—fuck, nai, i’m here. i’m here right now, and i’m gonna make this right. you don’t really believe maya, do you?”

this was a side of paige i hadn’t seen in a long time. she wasn’t trying to be strong, wasn’t trying to prove a point. she was just…asking.

“i believe you,” i stated plainly, avoiding her eyes as i tried to pull her toward the car.

paige’s shoulders dropped, her brows furrowing as she complied to my pulling. “you’re lying.”

i exhaled sharply, finally getting somewhere as i wrapped my fingers gently around her wrist. “i want you to get in the car.”

“i don’t… wanna get in the car, bro. i wanna talk.”

“we can talk in the car,” i insisted, not wanting to drag this out any longer. it was already too much.

paige dragged her feet along the pavement, her rambles continuing, making it harder to get her to the passenger seat in a timely matter. “you look so good tonight.” “fuck.” “i’m sorry for ruining your night.” “i didn’t mean to mess this up.”

finally, i opened the passenger door, and paige slid in with a small, unsteady huff, like she was relieved to be inside. i crouched down beside the door, lowering myself to her level as i reached for the seatbelt.

paige shifted slightly, still muttering under her breath, her words blurred together in the same cycle of regret and self-reproach. “i’m gonna fix this. i promise i will.”

“i don’t need you to,” i said, my voice barely above a whisper as i clicked the seatbelt into place, making sure it was secure. paige paused, and i tightened the strap for her, putting my focus solely on that.

“what? i know…” she hiccuped, shifting again as she tugged on the zipper of her jacket, scrunching her face up like the fabric had been bothering her. i reached out and helped her get it off her arms, the motion feeling almost automatic. “i haven’t been the best girlfriend, ex.. whatever.”

“it’s fine.”

“it’s not fine.” and she said it again, almost as if to tell the truth for both of us. “it’s not fine and… i’m gonna do right by you, swear, baby.” her words trailed off into another hiccup as she looked at me, her eyes pleading. i didn’t respond.

i’m sick of words. so sick of fucking words.

“did you have a good birthday?” she continued, her voice small now, and i could tell she was getting tired too. “i know i’ve been a mess—”

“it’s okay,” i said, my tone flat, trying not to let her guilt weigh on me. “we’ll talk when you’re sober.”

“nai, i just need to—” she started, but i cut her off, shaking my head.

“we can get everything straight… when you’re sober. not now.”

her face fell. “i got you a promise ring,” she blurted out, her eyes wide and frantic. “i was gonna give it to you. but i… i couldn’t. i couldn’t, nai, i was gonna do it today. i really was, but i didn’t know how.”

i was frozen for a moment. “what?” the word came out before i could stop it. i blinked, trying to process what she was saying. “promise ring? you… had a ring for me?”

i stayed silent, my chest tight as i processed everything she was saying. the ring, the flowers, her promises. it all felt like a cruel reminder of everything i had to let go. everything we had been and everything that we weren’t anymore.

paige hiccupped, the alcohol causing her words to slur further. “yeah… had it in my pocket. i came all ready to give it to you, but… i couldn’t. just couldn’t.”

“paige, stop it,” i finally whispered, my voice breaking slightly. i finally looked at her. really looked at her before attempting to get up. “you’re embarrassing yourself.”

her face faltered, but she didn’t let go of me, her hands trembling as she reached for my face, pulling me closer. “what do you want, nai?” the way she said it... “you want me to stop showing up? you want me to leave you alone? ‘cause i can do that. i can leave you alone. i can do that if that’s what you really want.” the way she pleads like she’ll do anything, has me on the verge of believing it.

my heart pounded in my chest. she was still holding onto this idea, this hope that i could come back. her eyes softened, and she leaned in closer, like she was trying to get through to me, but it felt suffocating.

“just let me go, paige,” i said, my voice hoarse. “let me go. please,” i muttered, lolling my head to try and get out of her grasp. i pressed my hand into her thigh, steadying myself on the ground.

her hands only gripped my face tighter, her thumb running over my jaw, her touch too familiar to the first time. too much.

silence. and then, “that’s what you want?”

i closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way her hands felt on my cheeks. the way her voice cracked, desperate and pleading, it hit something deep inside me. no, i wanted to say. no, i don’t want this. but living a lie had been outdated.

“yes,” i finally managed.

her thumb slid up under my eye, gently brushing away a tear that escaped. “look at me when you say it.”

no. no, no, no.

“look at me, nai. tell me you mean it,” she repeated.

i mean it. the words felt heavy, like they were being dragged out of me, but they were the only thing that made sense anymore.

i lifted my eyes slowly, meeting hers. “i mean it,” i said, barely a breath, but enough for her to hear. “i need you to let go, paige.”

for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain against the pavement and our uneven breaths. her grip didn’t loosen at first, like she was weighing the words, like she was holding onto the last shred of something she didn’t want to let go of.

but then, just like that, she pulled her hands away from my face, the movement stiff and mechanical. her eyes became empty, almost like they were looking right through me. she didn’t say anything—didn’t try to argue, didn’t plead. she just withdrew, the shift in her demeanor so abrupt it was as if the weight of everything we had was just… gone.

“okay.”

i turned then, slowly at first, and then more decisively as i made my way back to the driver’s seat, the rain still coming down hard around us. i didn’t look back, even though i felt her eyes on me, even though i knew she was still there.

after so many tries, i realized i couldn’t do this again. i couldn’t let her in.

and for the first time in what felt like forever, i let go, and it felt… right?

[mariespen]

Birthday Reunion ¡! ❞

bf!rafe cameron x daddy issues!reader ¡! ❞ warnings: swearing, drinking, implied drinking problems, implied body shaming, mentions of anxiety, degrading comments summary: “What did I do to deserve you..”

based on this request!

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Your light pink heels tapped down the long staircase of Tannyhill, the curved architecture giving you the perfect princess moment. The only difference was that instead of a ballroom of people at the bottom, it was simply your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron. It didn’t matter, though. People would have thought you were real royalty just by the way his jaw hung when he saw you in the pretty dress he picked out just for your birthday present. It swished around your thighs, bringing his favorite parts of your body to focus… maybe too far into focus.

Your soft giggle broke him out of his star-struck trance. You couldn’t help it, he looked so cute in his formalwear for your birthday dinner. Just as your heels touched down on the ground, Rafe swept you up into his loving embrace.

“Looking fuckin’ amazing, hm?” He said with a grin, love coating his gaze as he looked down at you. All you could do was giggle. 

You poor thing, he always left you speechless.

Rafe’s face softened. Any form of laughter that left your sweet, glossy lips was music to his ears. You kept him close to him for a while and he let you, of course. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a care-free date between you and Rafe. However, it was your mother’s genius idea to bring the family together and celebrate your special day, all together. A family reunion on your birthday.. why did Rafe let you agree to this?

“Gotta cover up..” He muttered, busying himself with your cardigan and handing you one of his bigger zip-ups.

“Thank you..” You said gently, letting him help you drape it over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“Mhm.. you ready princess?” Rafe asked cautiously, still prepared to call you in sick from this whole thing.

“Yeah..” You said, a small frown on your face as you wrapped yourself closer into his sweater.

“Okay, let’s go, yeah?” He said, obviously disappointed that you were so insistent on this, somehow still supporting you.

Rafe knew how these things played out. He could predict it now, keeping you close as the two of you tried to socialize awkwardly with your family and then eventually your father showed up. Usually it was late, most of the time he was already a little drunk, and there was a 100% chance that he was not going to leave the reunion sober by any means. That’s the basic routine besides the fact that in-between downing every drink on the table, your precious daddy would degrade you until you ended up right back in Rafe’s arms.

Right back where you’ve always belonged.

The car ride was silent besides your girlie music and the soft sound of Rafe’s hand occasionally brushing against your dress when he rubbed your thigh comfortingly.

You had a tendency to react poorly in anxious situations, he knew this for a fact. Rafe planned on keeping you very very close tonight.

Pulling up the prolonged driveway of your mother’s expensive house on figure 8 made you want to throw up. She moved from your old house into this atrocity of a mansion, so at least there weren't any prominent reminders of your lonely childhood. It comforted you enough to take Rafe’s hand and let yourself out of the car. 

The two of you winced as you walked up to the door. Neither of you really wanted to be there all that much, Rafe arguably hated it even more than you (which was impressive).

He reached over your head to knock on the door. Five hard knocks that echoed through the soft music playing within the house. Your eyes darted around the cars, thankful to not see your father there yet. Maybe he forgot, he could be so drunk off his ass that he forgot about you.

For the better, probably.

Your mom eagerly opened the door, instantly wrapping both you and Rafe in a tipsy yet somehow still loving hug. Rafe greeted her with a hesitant smile as you slowly worked up the motivation to plaster on your own faux smile for the rest of the night.

Then began the awkward greetings. Your aunt and uncle instantly greeted you, your aunt marvling at Rafe for maybe a second too long. He smiled kindly at them. Rafe had always been better at putting on a nice show. You were thrown around the room, embraced in many of your family’s drunken arms and sluggish greetings. Somehow, even through all of the commotion, Rafe’s gentle hand remained on your back.

Hours passed and you felt a gasp of relief leave you as you realized the reunion was nearly over and your father had yet to make a show. You stood near the front door with Rafe over your shoulder, giddy to leave the moment that the clock struck 9pm. 

You felt his hand come down to your waist and clutch you closer to him, causing you to flinch slightly in surprise. Your heart stopped, realizing quickly why his grip was so prominent on your side. 

Dragging himself into the house through the long, arched doorway was no one but your own father. His drunken gaze skimmed over the crowd before instantly dropping on you. One quick and judgmental up and down look comprised his purpose; to make your life hell.

His suit was too tight on his body as he breathed sharply and made his way over to both you and Rafe. You avoided Rafe’s gaze entirely, not wanting to witness the narrow stare of his eyes.

“Dad!” You said softly, beginning to pull away from Rafe until he pulled you right back to him. Your fake smile must have been obvious because all you got from your father was a scoff and a judgmental glance before he stumbled into the party.

Rafe was already urging you out of the door by the time your mother came to tell you that it was time for cake, “your favorite!” She said with a squeal, motioning to a chocolate ice cream cake. 

Which wasn’t your favorite, but you’ve learned not to care. 

You got ushered to the large dining room, Rafe shuffling behind you and looking ready to kill anyone who took one step too close to your shaking body. All of your family surrounded the table, leaving barely enough room for you to fit in next to your fast-melting cake

A short and unorganized rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung by the slurred voices of your family as you stood quietly, shyly smiling and feeling Rafe’s comforting hand holding yours. More cake was brought out to provide for all of the guests as your mother happily laughed with drunken joy.

Your piece was brought to you, a smaller slice than most. As you leaned down to grab your fork, you felt the plate leave your weak grip. Standing up in an instant, you were ready to pout at Rafe and tell him to get his own slice. However, you were met by your father’s mean and unforgiving stare.

“You don’t need… this.” He said plainly, obviously scanning your outfit and figure.

Tears swarmed your eyes as he spat more at you. Over time you had learned to tune him out, but you hadn’t heard his words for months now, nearly a year. 

“It’s disgusting that you walk into your mother’s house looking like a slut.” He said with a scoff, either unaware of the tears dripping down your face or choosing to ignore them (it was the latter).

“Thank god you have a boyfriend, hopefully he keeps you in your place.” Your father sneered as you vaguely watched Rafe push through the crowd to get back to you after he was pushed away in the cake swarm.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Your stare was blank when Rafe finally got to you, shoving your father away without hesitation and taking your purse from your slouching arm as he pulled you away from everyone. Rafe’s grip on your body was persistent as he took you through the house, through the front door, and eventually through his car door. You were still trying to tune out everything that had happened, proving to be non-responsive when Rafe begged you to answer his questions.

“C’mon princess, tell me what he said.” Rafe said through gritted teeth as one hand gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles and the other softly brushed over your palm.

The world was silent, your eyes deep and dull and you stared down at your pink heels when Rafe took you into Tannyhill.

“Hey, baby.. talk to me.” Rafe said gently, his thumbs already flicking away your tears as the two of you sat on the luxurious couch. His pleading voice eventually got back into your head and you nodded softly.

“Oh sweetheart..” Rafe whispered, starting to say something else before you let yourself fall back into him and bury yourself into his warm body. You hid away from the spiraling world as he whispered into your ear.

“I got you, princess. I’m here.” “Want you to only listen to my voice, don’t let him stay in your head.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” His lips peppered two soft kisses against both of your rosy, swollen cheeks before more tears poured out of your eyes. You were slowly coming back to yourself and Rafe couldn’t fully tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Your body came to you in small tremors, your poor shoulders shaking as your sweet and honey-like voice rasped over with deep sobs. Rafe held you close, whispering gently into your ear for a while, eventually feeling you relax into his arms.

“I’m sorry I… I just-“ You started, trying to apologize for your sudden outburst.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Focus on me.” Rafe said, kissing you softly and smiling as he felt your sticky lip gloss smear against his lips.

You smiled back, suddenly focused on the way he looked down at you, opening his mouth to tell you more.

“Aw look at that..” He said, kissing your smile and grinning into the gentle contact before pulling away.

“What did I do to deserve you..” He whispered with adoration in his eyes as he scooped you right back up and held you to his chest.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

[literaila]

could you write a really fluffy peter Parker fic for Valentine’s Day (with banter ofc)

valentine, oh mine

tasm!peter x reader

a/n: this is not cute or fun or any of the things i aspire to be. it is painful. peter dies (he doesn’t). don’t read this.

*

“will you be my valentine?”

“hello, peter,” you answer, through your toothbrush. the words are deadpan. “i’m doing well, thank you. how are you?”

“better if you answer the question.”

you laugh, letting his response linger for a moment as you try to discern where, exactly, he is. your mouth tastes like spearmint, and it would be perfect to kiss him with. even though it’s monday, and almost midnight, and he shouldn’t be here.

for a whole multitude of reasons (number one being that you know he’ll keep you awake for at least a couple of hours more).

“where are you?” you ask him, listening to ruffling and a whine from the other end.

a manly whine, he might tell you, if you could see his face and make fun of it.

“stop deflecting. you don’t wanna be my valentine?” you can hear the frown.

and then there’s a horn, signaling absolutely nothing.

you spit into the sink, and put him on speaker as you rinse.

“i’ve gotta say that this is one of the more underwhelming valentine proposals i’ve gotten. you’re not even here. instead you’re…” you drawl, “where, again?”

“this is just further proof that i’m always thinking about you,” peter tells you, recalling an argument you’d had the day prior.

about how he wasn’t paying attention to you—or the conversation you were trying to have with him about one of your coworkers—but instead, according to him, thinking about you.

which did not help his case, of course. instead you’d given him the silence treatment for three minutes while he groveled—poorly.

and you doubt that he was thinking about valentine’s day when his eyes were glued to your lips the entire time.

“again,” you tell him, trying to hide the sound of a smile in your voice, “i would rather you just listen to me. answer my question and i’ll answer yours,” you bargain.

“how’s that fair? i asked first.”

“i asked second.”

peter sighs, and there’s a brief pause where he breaks up. you mess with the sound settings to no avail. up or down, his voice is distorted.

“are you—“ his voice wonders. “i was gonna tell you—“ and then a pause. and then. “are you giving me the silent treatment again?”

“cant hear you,” you hum. “somethings wrong with your phone.”

“how do you know it’s mine?” his voice enters again, breaking back and forth. another honking, and silence as he puts himself on mute.

because you’re no fool, and you know that peter would’ve answered the question already—if only to get you to answer his—if he didn’t know that you’d scold him for it.

“cause i can hear the wind while you swing,” you tease, though swallow, your voice is aiding the anger you should feel—because your boyfriend is a liar, and a traitor and you kinda hate him.

but you’re not really angry. you haven’t seen him since he left your house at six in the morning, so that’s probably why.

“i—“ there’s a pause. and then his voice is clear again. “that’s my hairdryer.”

“are you lying to me, peter?”

“it might even be the connection,” he continues, idly. “may’s been complaining about the service but i’ve been too busy to check the box, so—“

“are you still lying to me?”

you can almost see him swallow. “…no?”

“i told you not to call me when you’re out.”

“so you never want me to call you?” he asks, mock hurt. “when i’m not out, i’m always with you. i thought you liked my phone calls, and my voice if my memory serves me. someone really liked it—“

“you know what i mean.”

“do i?”

“peter parker, unless you want me to hang up—“

“okay, okay,” there’s still no swinging. “i’m sorry.”

“no, you’re not,” you whine, sitting on your bed and listening closely so he can’t trick you again.

“i actually am this time,” he swears. “i won’t do it again. but this is a very important matter.”

“swinging while talking is basically like texting and driving, and if i was doing that i’d be getting an earful from you.”

“it’s so not the same thing. first of all, spider senses, please keep up,” he tells you, laughing. “and who am i going to hurt in the open air?”

“a pigeon,” you say, almost angrily. “they’re an endangered species, you idiot.”

“they’re definitely not.”

“okay, then, yourself. who’s going to be my valentine if you slam into a wall and crack your head open?”

peter would not look cute without his skull, you remain firm on this fact.

you can hear his smile. “i knew you wanted to be my valentine.”

“before i knew you were lying to me.”

“you lie to me all of the time,” peter argues.

your brows furrow. “when?”

“when you said that you don’t like it when i call you,” he murmurs, almost soft, still teasing. “i know you do. you miss me.”

“i miss my boyfriend,” you answer, biting back some other remark about how you don’t miss him at all—honestly, you’re trying to prove that you’re not lying. “but apparently i’m talking to a superhero.”

“oh, did i forget to mention that? must’ve slipped my mind.”

“where are you now?” you ask. “it’s quiet.”

and then there’s a tap on the wall to your right.

“peter…”

“yes?”

“is that you?”

“maybe.”

“are you kidding?” you grumble, crawling on your knees to push back the curtains and open the window. you frown as you unlatch it, hands interrupted by other ones, doing the same thing. “how long have you been sitting out here?”

“since ‘are you lying?’ i think.” he says, in a terrible impression of your voice. “it’s cold.”

you pull him in by his wrist, immediately pushing him off when he tries to land on your bed on top of you.

peter pulls his mask off, smiling at you. “hi.”

“i’m mad. go take a shower.”

his fingers tip-toe up your arm, trying to get you to shiver. “are you really?” he hums.

“yes.”

“how can i make it up to you?”

“find me a better, non-lying valentine,” you tell him, pouting as you look away.

“is this supposed to be an answer?”

“why didn’t you just wait?” you ask instead. “if you were going to come here anyway, why didn’t you ask me in person instead of being a disappointment, and breaking a rule?”

“i don’t recall signing a contract…”

you groan, sitting up and crossing your legs as you look at him. unfortunately for you, his hair has fallen over his eyes just right, and you still want to kiss him.

“take me seriously.”

“i take everything you say,” he leans in, “very seriously.”

you push his nose. “you don’t.”

“i do!” he swears, grabbing your hand. “i’m listening. tell me what’s wrong.”

he says this condescendingly, because you already told him—kind of—but he knows that if you have to repeat it, you’ll break.

“this is why they say familiarity breeds contempt.”

peter smiles. “are you feeling contemptful right now?”

you nod.

he leans again, and you cant push him away. “how can i help?”

“you can apologize.”

peter’s smile grows softer as you look at him with eyes of steel, like he finds this version of you cute. your pout and your false anger, all bundled up into one perfect package.

just for him, you suppose.

he leans in some more, “i’m sorry,” he says, softly, just brushing your lips. “i was excited.”

you purse your lips, even while his are soft and teasing against them. it feels kind of like a feather brushing your skin, like peters got his own secret form of tickling you.

teasing you, like he always does. familiarity breeds contempt, and comfort, and confusion, and…

he kisses you fully, this time. a gentle peck. “i wanted to hear your voice,” he admits. “i’m impatient. i should listen to you more.”

“right…” you whisper, with him, as your only form of acknowledgement.

“i won’t call you while i’m out, okay? or i’ll pause somewhere.”

your brows are permanently fixed together. “don’t pause. just… get some headphones, or something.” you let your lips relax, finally, and they fall against his just as a consequence. “i like your voice too,” you admit, quietly, as an afterthought.

peters smile is bashful. “like wireless ones? not sure how that would work under the mask…”

“you made the suit,” you tell him, leaning back. “you cant figure it out, genius?”

“i’ll do it for you, i guess,” he sighs, but his fingertips trace the skin on both of your arms, simply because he’s that close.

“thank you.”

“are we done fighting now?”

you frown, pushing his hands away so you can cross your arms. “no. you really asked me to be your valentine over the phone?”

peter sighs, shaking his head. “i knew i should’ve gone with the skywriting.”

“or,” you say, rhetorically, “i don’t know, maybe a box of chocolates? flowers? a quick ‘hey, will you be my valentine?’ before you left this morning?”

“that’s so lame.”

“so is asking me over the phone.”

“i was excited,” peter argues. “i wanted an answer.”

“well you didn’t get one.”

“yes i did,” he tells you, finally grabbing your arm so he can pull you on top of him (because seriously, this is unfair).

“no.”

“you said i was your valentine,” he reminds you, tilting your head up so you’re looking at him.

“you’re mine,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “i never said i was yours.”

“wow,” peter murmurs. “that might be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“please. i called you a vermin to may the other day.”

he pouts, childishly.

“ask me nicely,” you say, after a moment.

“i did.”

“ask me nicely again.”

there’s a pause where two stubborn people meet at a head—literally, head to head—and consider the prospects of losing this battle.

but peter is softer than you are, when you tease a smile on your lips, he breaks. “will you be my valentine?”

“hmm,” you ponder, looking away. “i’ll think about it. i mean, there’s a lot of options to choose from.”

peter bites your nose in retaliation and the two of you laugh until you’re dizzy

*

[foldingfittedsheets]

A silly holiday story time:

At thanksgiving one year my family had all gathered at my nana’s house for the family meal. My family are… not cooks. In more recent years I’ve had to warn my betrothed to lower their expectations of what we’re going to be fed. They hear the menu and think, well that sounds okay only to eat the blandest most poorly cooked food to ever shame our ancestors.

But the year in question I was still but a teenager and had not yet learned better food existed. I knew next to nothing about cooking, nor did my nana, so I was vaguely puzzled when she volunteered to cook a turkey.

It was good fortune really that I was in the kitchen when she came to check on it. I watched quietly while she opened the oven and made a sound of disgust at the juices surrounding the bird in its pan. She opened the oven door wider. She looked from the oven to her trash can. She looked back in the oven.

“Are you- uh- are you thinking to pour that juice in the trash?”

“Yeah! It’s gross, I’m just trying to figure out how.”

I, with my mere seventeen years of life experience looked at my fully grown wizened grandparent in bafflement. “If you pour that in the trash it’s going to melt through the bag, and also probably through the trash can itself? It’s really hot?”

She looked surprised to hear this basic law of thermodynamics, looking at the bubbling well of turkey fat as if seeing it for the first time. She then turned back to me, a child who had never learned to cook, “Well what am I supposed to do with it?”

“I think you leave it there? And-“

What I said next was cobbled together from television, pop culture, and American teens fixation on the hilarity of the tool for sex jokes-

“I think you baste it? There’s like a thing you get the juice in to squirt back on the top?”

She made a thoughtful hmm and closed the oven again, wandering back into the living room. I took a moment to imagine the alternate timeline where my family cleaned burning hot fat and melted plastic off the floor.

By and by our underwhelming dinner was completed and we tucked in. My mom keeps chickens so as we finished our food we put all our scraps into a big bowl that was going to the birds. We filled it with dry under seasoned turkey, stuffing, unfinished mashed potatoes, half eaten dinner rolls, etc.

As we were all lounging in contented fullness my brother finally arrived. Being older he had the luxury of showing up to family events hours late. He greeted everyone and went to fix himself a plate. He came out of the kitchen carrying the metal bowl of scraps, delightedly mowing through it.

My mom looked up and started laughing and we all turned to follow suit.

“What?” he asked.

“That’s the bowl for the chickens! Why did you pick that instead of making a plate?”

“This had everything!” he protested, showing us the conglomeration of every component of dinner all mixed up in one bowl.

He sat down and finished the whole massive bowl, unbothered by eating scraps, and the family watched in fascination. His only comment at the end was, “That was great! Turkey was a little dry.”

[modedelagauze]

𝓢𝓤𝓜𝓜𝓔𝓡'𝓢 𝓗𝓔𝓐𝓣 ᯓ★

​​Pairing: Abby x F! Reader Summary: You move into your apartment just outside of campus. Abby sees you struggling and decides to help move everything in. CW: Mostly fluff, Abby is having dirty thoughts about you (2k) This work belongs to a larger series though it can be read alone without the context of previous chapters. Read the entire collection on AO3 HERE or refer to the Tumblr master list HERE

Only about five miles from the grounds where you would be receiving your education for the upcoming years, you sat fanning your reddened cheeks with the loose slip of a welcome flyer once pinned between clips stuck to your apartment door. The place was an old brick fortress so clearly taken advantage of by a landlord who clearly couldn’t give a damn about college students unacquainted to the heat of the city. The mockery of a poorly printed image of the sun wearing sunglasses alongside a short list of locations to pick up some form of air conditioning listed on the sheet was long forgotten as you got up to approach the refrigerator. Would it be so wrong to stand in front of an open freezer door and allow the cooling hum of the ice maker to calm your sweaty nerves? Apparently it was quite possibly the worst decision you could have made when you realized that the ice maker wasn't even on and that this had to be none other than an act of god punishing you for picking the apartment on the third floor and deciding to move in mid day when the sun was revealed itself most. You hadn’t even registered how loud the string of curses that escaped your lips had been until you were startled by the figure standing in the hallway of your home.

“What's going on?” You blurted out, face fixed into a scowl, unsure why some random stranger was standing in front of you. Hopefully she was some random student belonging to management, here to make something apparent that wasn’t already emailed to you since you hadn’t really had time to see the office other than to pick up your keys an hour ago. That would make the interaction a whole lot less weird.

“I was gonna ask the same.” She spoke, quickly attempting to diffuse the situation with her hands up, “I just thought I heard someone get hurt or something and the door was wide open.” The woman continued while motioning at the door that you’d forgotten to shut and lock after struggling the first of three large boxes into your apartment. “I knocked, but I didn’t hear anything.” 

You would’ve been more irritated with the audacity of the burly blonde standing in front of you had she not, well, looked the way that she did. If God had indeed been punishing you earlier, then this was a reward. Give and take if you will and being given a hot neighbor was worth all of it since living in the Appalachians didn't really have much to offer. You sighed, closing the ajar freezer and realizing just how stupid you looked at the moment. “I’m so sorry that was rude and you're so sweet. It’s just hot and I have so much to move.”

“So you’re okay?” she further probed.

“As okay as any actively melting person could be.” You huffed in response.

Now with crossed arms as she scanned the large box leaning against your front door labeled Section A, the woman inquired “Do you need help with the rest of it?”

You sighed, resting both your hands on top of your head, resenting the very thought of carrying up the rest of your things alone. “I would really love that.”

The blonde walked forward to meet you where the hallway and kitchen met, extending an arm out to shake your hand. “My name’s Abby.”

You shook it, now up close enough to take in the details of her exquisitely designed face. Really, the girl was something to marvel at considering the freckles sprinkled along her T-zone and the slight bump at the bridge of her nose; the mix of blue and brown in her eyes framed by golden eyelashes and those untamed brows. She was a natural blonde too. This was like dangling fresh salmon in front of a starving bear. Not to mention you were considered tall for a woman, but she still managed to have a good couple of inches on you and her physique had to be hand carved by the gods themselves. As selfish as it may be, you prayed she didn’t have a girlfriend. “Y/N,” you stuttered, then repeated yourself. “Y/N, L/N.” 

Abby echoed your name, smiling as she said it and you loved how it sounded coming from her mouth. Already you wanted to hear the girl say it again and again, but it was too soon. You didn’t even know her last name. Together, the two of you marched down the hall to your closest stairwell, navigating through the numerous other bodies also moving into the building. Halfway down the first flight of stairs Abby asked why you picked Washington if you couldn’t stand the heat and you responded with something along the lines of believing the state to have had perfect weather all year round. She laughed, suggesting you should have moved to Bellingham instead if you wanted year-round gloom. “Did you not visit before commiting?” She asked as you approached the mailing room.

Shaking your head as you unlocked the locker where the remainder of your packages had been delivered, you answered “I always wanted to leave the midwest for a big city and Washington, on paper, looked pretty good. Can you blame me?” 

Hailing from Salt lake City, Abby admitted she couldn't relate and accepted your reasoning as the two of you maneuvered around the boxes, stacking them on top of one another before lifting on either side. “How do you feel about it now then?”

Somewhere between a groan and sigh at the girl’s ability to continue on with all of the questions while lifting so much, you told her that you knew already that you wouldn’t give it up for the world. Fortunately, Abby could tell that you were growing winded and allowed you a breather up the stairs. After reaching the last step, you spoke before she could start back up again. “So why’d you come here? Salt Lake is beautiful, I've heard.”

She laughed, though you couldn't see her face over the boxes and cursed them for hiding it. “I picked the best school I got accepted to.” You pressed your backside against the apartment door, slowly forcing it open only to be kicked shut by Abby following you in seconds later. “You know, Utah actually had the better program, but staying home felt like I was playing it too safe so I picked the second best option.”

After setting the boxes between an assortment of smaller collections, Abby pressed for more information regarding your point of origin. “Maysville. It’s this little border city right in between Kentucky and Ohio.” You responded without looking at the girl, actively searching for a box labeled kitchen where both cleaning supplies and tools for reconstructing your carefully packaged furniture should’ve been. Sandwiched among several other boxes labeled kitchen, the last and only mid-sized box was the jackpot which you then placed in front of Abby before prancing over to your CD player, its wires haphazardly strung across the floor. It was the one and only thing you’d actually cared to put together upon arrival. “I think the website said I’d only need an allen wrench and flat head to put the couch together.” Abby nodded her head in approval, though she’d never heard of Maysville nor did she know what size of either tool that she was looking for.

“Do you have a preference for any one genre?” You asked, turning to reach for a small box of various albums and compilations. It was always better to ask than scare the girl off with some obscure industrial that had been left inside the sound system from its last use.

“Not really, but anything from the eighties is usually solid.” Instead of squatting beside the box, you bent over it rather cartoonishly, with a fingernail stuck between your upper and bottom lip as you thumbed through the collection. It wasn't so much a deliberate attempt to provoke the girl, but rather that the stretch created a burning feel in your hamstrings, so you prolonged the search, pretending you haven't found anything yet. In truth, you weren’t the only one pretending when really the girl had already found the right tools ages ago. She’d actually found them right away, but instead of saying anything she’s just allowed her hands to swim around the trinkets with the purpose of keeping up just enough noise to keep you distracted, imagining her to still be looking through the box while she was actually staring at the way your shorts had ridden up, giving her a hint of what you looked like under them, admiring the crease where your ass met your thighs. She wondered how it would feel flush against her abdomen, how beautifully your back would arch as she drilled into you from behind. 

“Found it.” You chimed revealing Wham’s ‘Make It Big’ and she echoed your words with a little too much excitement, holding up the steel instruments for you to see. An eyebrow was raised in question at the girl’s sudden enthusiasm, though she laughed it off. You then sat down cross legged in front of the girl, pulling a box over to slice open with your keys, having lost the box cutter again. “Do you not have any plans for the day?”

Abby grinned, bringing up a hand to massage her neck as she rolled it around. “Not really. I was just coming back from taking out the trash when I heard you earlier.” Absolutely perfect. You really did have a hot neighbor and not some random girl who just so happened to be in your complex visiting someone or something of that nature. “I live across from you actually.” Unboxing all three of the cardboard containers that would eventually comprise your couch was enough to lay you out across the concrete again, spread like a starfish. Your eyes closed momentarily, “I don’t know how you’re alive right now.” 

“No. It's taking everything in me not to start stripping down now.” Abby spoke, sounding closer than you remembered, and your eyelashes fluttered open to reveal the girl now kneeling over your form, the tail end of her braid only a pinch away from tickling the tip of your nose. She wouldn’t say it aloud but she wasn't suggesting stripping down because of the heat, though you were unsure if that was the true implication. 

“Be my guest. I’d walk around naked if I could.” As if you weren't already halfway there. Clad in a pair of low rising denim hot shorts and a spandex tank top with a scooped neckline, everything was pretty much outlined for the girl to see and my god the blonde took every opportunity for a glance. She’d take you on this very concrete, still sticky with sweat, right now if it wasn’t considered inappropriate to fuck your neighboors only hours after meeting them. Normally, the blonde wasn’t one to be foaming at the mouth over some girl, but there was something about the way you walked; the way you didn’t seem to visibly react to her at all. I mean, Abby knew good and damn well how to stop a room and did it often, but it was almost as if you didn’t even know that you were in the room. Regardless, patience was a virtue. The following hours passed as if they were only a fraction of moments, filled with laughter and the occasional sneak glance from either party toward the other and yet no conversation of if the other was seeing someone. Your personal rule of thumb was if it wasn’t explicit flirting then it couldn't hurt anyone. The night was a striking contrast to the midday heat and the two of you’d managed to completely finish all of the larger furniture, before it grew late. The session concluded with you standing in the doorway of Abby’s apartment, only two doors down from where you lived, as she learned against its frame with cheeks still rosy from a mix of the prior heavy lifting and all the breathless cackling you managed to snatch from her throat. 

“You should come over tomorrow.” She suggested as you glanced inside of her barely lit residence, catching a flurry of band posters plastering her entryway; each one framed and appearing to be perfectly spaced away from each other. 

“Yeah if I wake up tomorrow. I think I'll be up all night putting the rest of the kitchen together.” You huffed, chewing at your cheek. 

“Then I’ll come over tomorrow. How's that?”

“Perfect.”

[akirathedramaqueen]

CBT and Exposure Therapy: Blitzø Showcase

An important (really, don't skip) disclaimer

If you are contemplating whether or not you would benefit from any kind of therapy, consider consulting with your medical provider first. While I did my best to validate all the points made using publicly available resources, I am not a medical professional. At the very least, I strongly advise that you do your own research and not take some amateur's opinion about a character from a silly demon show for granted.

"Everyone in this show needs fucking therapy STAT!"

We hear fans screaming into the void every now and then. Me too. I plead guilty and I willingly put myself in custody. But I am not taking these words back.

Especially often it is being said with Blitzø in mind, who, as hinted earlier and clearly shown in the latest episode, Ghostfuckers, is not doing okay. Not in the slightest.

Which is . . . yes. Indeed, trauma-ridden Blitzø is a major problem for both him and those around him. Yes, we see him reaching his lowest point now exactly because he left these gaping wounds untreated for so long.

But the tricky question is—how, though? What to do? Will a good talking to a confidante help? Or, maybe, some kind of shock would snap him out of the spiral?

I've been pondering on this topic for more than 4 months, and, as the Ghostfuckers came out, I finally got all the data I need to prove a point. The show did all the job for me and effectively made Blitzø go through improvised versions of two popular therapy techniques. And, before I even start, I want to say—I am so glad with what we ended up with. What they did, and, more importantly, didn't do, aligns well with how it would likely happen in real life.

So buckle up, and let's see where it gets us!

Therapy # 1. Cognitive-behavioral therapy, or CBT

This is, in essence and with some corrections, your good old talking. Here you can find more information about it, so, if you're not familiar with the topic, I recommend following the link first.

But, very shortly: CBT is an extremely common approach to be tried while you're dealing with anxiety, depression, and a number of other mental disorders. What it aims to do is to help you get past unhelpful thinking (distortions) and learn not to act on it.

Looks like it fits the bill, right? Blitzø has a lot of issues with self-fulfilling prophecies, infuriatingly stupid assumptions, poorly thought-out actions . . .

But he's not like, you know . . . w-we're not, like . . . we're not doing a . . . w-we . . . what's betw— It's a transactional fucking, you see.

If you don't feel like coming, that's OK! I'm sure I can do without it for one month. :)

Stolas only cares about having a rugged peasant raw-dog him into his matress! It's nothing, ya know . . . it's nothing else.

You . . . no longer have any obligation to see me, to touch me, to bed me . . . You are— you are free of me.

He sees things which aren't truly there.

It's not Stolas giving him space after the disaster in the 'Ozzie's.' It must be Stolas not needing him anymore, getting tired of him.

It's not Stolas caring about Blitzø. He is a royal, why would he care how an imp's day he happened to be fucking was?

It's not Stolas setting Blitzø free and putting an end to a problematic transaction they had with the hope for it to grow into something more. It's him getting rid of Blitzø.

As a result, he ends up hurting himself and the relationship he had with that one sad gay bird he happened to fall deeply for but literally trashed in his own house twice, acting on nothing more than frenetic fear of losing Stolas, but in reality, driving him away even more . . . for good.

I mean, you royal fucks think you can do this every time, like you can just play with our feelings because we're smaller and not as important!

Ha! I'm right, aren't I? You get off getting plowed by people you look down on!

And I can sorry more people, everyone but you! 'Cause I don't owe you dick! Everyone, but you . . .

So, the case's closed? Let someone—say, Millie—talk to him and tell him how wrong he was about himself and the others?

Well, here's the thing. Despite him being infinitely wrong about Stolas's intentions, we can't deny the fact that every one of his beliefs was not, in fact, a distortion. It'd led him to wrong conclusions, yes, but it was built on the information he received and legitimate experiences he had in his life. Here are only some of the facts connected to only this situation with Stolas, but there are other problematic behaviors and other reasons for him acting the way he does.

Fact # 1. The circus fire did happen, and Blitzø was the reason for it. Unintentional, and of course it wasn't his fault, but it still ruined the lives of many people—him included. Blitzø cannot act like it never occurred.

Fact # 2. Hell is divided by class and race. Their situationship with the grimoire was an embodiment of that inequality. A lot of Blitzø's outburst during the Full Moon and later in the Apology Tour was connected to it, to his beliefs that Stolas is the same as the rest of the privileged circle. Beliefs, I stress, justified by the real world. Stolas is more of an exception, and even then, his behavior is only different when it comes to Blitzø. He still acts the same toward other imps.

Fact # 3. We knew about Stolas's intentions all along, but before that fateful Full Moon, what Blitzø saw was Stolas avoiding him and not communicating the issue the Ozzie's date had raised. And before Ozzie's? Stolas did act entitled and inappropriate. He was baby-talking to Blitzø and used derogatory terms while addressing him. The dude literally called him an impish plaything in the Truth Seekers.

Fact # 4. Blitzø's heavily implied (though not officially confirmed by the show) existing conditions—ADHD*, BPD**, PTSD, and dyslexia/dyscalculia***—do affect his life, and while Hell seems to be somewhat receptive of neurodivergence, he still has to deal with it every single fucking day. He is going to be avoidant and afraid to be abandoned at the same time. He is going to hate himself. His learning disabilities are going to make his life harder. No way around it.

Note: *, **, and *** contain links to separate meta-analyses from @timkontheunsure and @tealvenetianmask about the respective conditions and how they show themselves in Blitzø's case.

And my beef with CBT here is exactly that. CBT's goal is to gaslight you into believing your distortions hold no water and suggests you just ignore them. And, as I've shown with Blitzø, these reactions and assumptions aren't baseless. They are legitimate, and, in fact, sometimes help to get by. Even though it's a crooked crutch, you can't learn to walk properly by just throwing that crutch away. You're still going to limp, and oh, will it be painful.

This is oversimplistic and dismissive. Anxiety and depression don't come out of the blue, and with mental disabilities, it's even deeper. The class/disability stigma is alive and strong, and just slapping a "you're fine" bandaid on your traumatized self isn't going to help.

Therapy # 2. Exposure therapy.

Exposure therapy is another approach commonly used while dealing with traumatic past and its aftermath—PTSD, anxiety, phobias, and such. Again, if you're not familiar, there's the link for you, but very shortly—the therapist puts the patient in a safe environment and 'exposes' them to the feared object in question for limited periods of time. The goal is to eventually get rid of the targeted fear and decrease avoidance.

And Blitzø has got some phobias for sure.

The fear of letting everyone down. Again.

And the fear of abandonment. Again.

All of it is a result of self-hatred, sitting so deeply it rules his life and his vision of how others perceive him. Said it himself. Almost.

So, where and how does the show expose Blitzø to his traumatic past?

First, the most recent, and the most obvious one—Rolando and his slideshow of all traumatic events Blitzø ever had in his life.

Second—Blitzø's drug trip in the Truth Seekers. While it does not contain the events of the past as they were, it does force him to face his fears.

Are you worried I might have enough of it one day as well? . . . You're going to die alone! . . . You're going to die alone, Blitzo!

With some stretch, the third one is Verosika's 'Blitzo sucks' party. Where Blitzø was forced to see the consequences of his avoidance and rejection.

Note: to be clear, I do think the party does not show the true extent of Blitzø's actions and how much he'd hurt people. It was exaggerated by Verosika, and here I explain why this is the case.

So, what gives? Or, rather, what gives it not?

It might sound funny now, considering I brought it up myself, but I, once again, say this is not therapeutic, just as CBT kind of 'talking.' If anything, all these three events did more harm than good.

The D.H.O.R.K.S.'s goal in the Truth Seekers was to torture the information out of Blitzø. He was not supposed to overcome it. He was supposed to crack.

The Verosika's goal was to ruin Blitzø's reputation. She was working her ass off to prove he's just a heartless freak.

The Rolando's goal was to fucking kill Blitzø.

And okay, their motivations had nothing to do with helping him, but maybe it did, in its own twisted way?

No. The writers added this to push Blitzø past the breaking point, not to heal him, and to show us more of his lore. Each time he was forced to face his past or fears or consequences, he was only spiraling more.

The only thing which did him some good was . . . well, Millie finally seeing his bravado mask falling off. But the cost of it was way too high. Not worth it.

To the therapy's defense, some points why it would never work in the way it was done in the show:

Blitzø had never given his consent and was not ready to face it. I might be very rude right now, but go and try producing some explosion-like sounds in front of war veterans without letting them know first and see what happens.

The amount of fearful experience exposed was way too overboard. He couldn't possibly digest it in a healthy way.

The environment was not safe. It was straight-up retraumatizing, an intentional one.

So there's that.

But what helped then?

We've briefly brushed over the fact Millie did talk to Blitzø. While I did imply this might be an example of CBT, here are some key deviations from the classic therapy which made all the difference.

Millie didn't sugarcoat all the shit Blitzø did. He was hurting their business. He didn't pay her. He was reduced to Bethanie. It showed her opinion can be trusted.

Millie apologized for not being there for him sooner. She admitted she relied too much on Blitzø being bulletproof, unbothered by everything. She admitted she didn't support him in a way he always did.

While proving she could never hate Blitzø, she used their common story, one he knows and can recall. She used evidence to prove him wrong, not a "it's all in your head" bandaid. And more than that, later she proved it with action—not for one second did she believe Rolando and his shittalk about what Blitzø supposedly was thinking about her. Her unwavering faith spoke more than any words ever could.

Getting back to exposure therapy . . . Metaphorically, she reminded Blitzø he can handle a beating or two. And physically beat the infestor demon out of him, which, as we can see later, didn't really affect Blitzø that much. He wasn't even battered. So, apparently, when the said exposure is done by someone who genuinely tries to make you feel better and knows your limits well, it might just work?

And finally, Millie acknowledged Blitzø's pain. She didn't brush it away. She validated him.

What all of this is about?

Like every treatment, too much of a medicine can become poisonous. So are CBT and exposure therapy.

They might help, and lots of research shows they do in certain cases. But there are limitations to what they can and cannot achieve, and they have to be adjusted to each individual story, to each trauma, and they should not be applied as a way to mend the outcome of the trauma without taking into account the story it comes with. Again, legitimate concerns and experiences cannot be brushed away or ignored.

Actualy . . . we've seen where it leads in the show too. In the beginning, Millie was quite dismissive of Blitzø's worries—all of this over a . . . breakup?

And here it comes full circle.

Only when Millie started taking Blitzø seriously, did it help them progress. And look how quickly we've switched from a complete despair to a glimmer of hope! Isn't that a beautiful closing scene?

As a closing note—we do not need to 'fix' Blitzø. After all this shit he went through, there won't be a day where he wakes up and be like, "Hey, I don't hate myself anymore! And look, I'm not afraid to be abandoned or misunderstood!"

I'm sorry to break it to you, but this is a lifelong battle. Being mentally whole, healthy, and constantly happy is no more than a myth, and everyone has their own demons and skeletons to deal with.

What Blitzø needs is some good support system to pull him back when he's down.

And boy, do I hope that one particular owl will fill in that role of unyielding pillar for Blitzø each time our lizard will fall into that pit again. Look, I love Millie, but there's only so much she can do. She can't be always present, she has her own life . . . and her own disaster of a husband to look after (affectionate <3). Here and here @lost-romantique talks about Stolas's capacity of loving, with me occasionally nodding, ha-ha. But to be short—it's fucking immense. And since he loves words, I do believe he has all the energy to tell again and again and again how awesome Blitzø is. Even if Blitzø wouldn't believe it himself.

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Talking with @respectthepetty about the finale, and I think I've figured out my biggest sticking point.

We see the incredible care and love that Kan shows his patients, and Tew's mom in particular. We see him ask her for confirmation multiple times. He brushes her hair, asks her if she has any worries, promises to take care of Tew for her.

He calls her Mom. She cradles his cheek. He sits with her while she falls asleep.

We see this scene play out, we feel Kan's compassion for her, we feel his need to help.

And when he and Tew have their confrontation, he says all of this. He talks about how much it hurts to see people struggle with unbearable pain, how the system doesn't care about how well or how poorly people are living, doesn't care about what people want for their life. He gives an impassioned defense of the need for euthanasia to be made legal.

He tells Tew that his mother died the way she wanted to, that she passed peacefully and on her terms. He tells him that she wanted him to be happy.

And we don't see Tew truly understand any of that. We don't get to see him even really process any of it.

I didn't need or expect Tew to become a supporter of euthanasia, or to even fully forgive and understand what Kan did and why he did it. But it seems like what we got instead was Tew accepting his feelings for Kan, and acknowledging that.

So that "I love you" felt... Misplaced.

What good does a confession do when you've got the man you're in love with handcuffed, on your way to turn him into the police.

(The confrontation itself was beautifully done and it hurt all my feelings. But I'm not sure it was in the right place? There was no room to see them struggling with and processing it. Kan's sad nod of acknowledgement and no response was the correct response, but it was also mine, quick I think is not the desired effect.)

Also, Kan volunteerimg to turn himself in, without arguing for his patients who need him -- in his hospital that is desperately short staffed, in which he is the only palliative care doctor; a point that has been made over and over in the series -- also felt off.

I would've been happier with an ambiguous ending, maybe even the exact same one, where we didn't see the cuffs, and weren't sure what was next for them.

(from my understanding, this is basically the opposite of the source material? There's also the comments from the screenwriter that have kind of left an annoyed filter over all my thoughts about the show, but I digress)

Honestly, I may have been okay(er) with the outcome if we had had more of their relationship development on screen, more of them trying to understand each other (that felt very one sided in the end).

Idk.

The show was beautiful, beautifully acted, and had some very important things to say, and it made its arguments well considering the lines they had to tow. But the politics and the moral struggle of the show were embodied in Kan and Tew, and the culmination of that struggle feels like it wasn't given enough space.

[beemovieerotica]

hey can you tell me how you got tested for OCD and/or started to think you had it?

yeeeess so it was literally 2018 when i was like "hm maybe i have OCD" to my therapist (who was not specialized in this) and she did not disagree with me and everything kind of clicked in that session between us when we both simultaneously realized a lot of my behaviors could be explained that way.

the hardest thing was that i'd already been diagnosed with generalized anxiety so like. "yes i obsess over conversations i've had or will have and repeat things over and over in my head" "yes i constantly check to make sure things are okay" "yes i hyperanalyze and hypercriticize myself" all got wrapped up in that.

i think the behavior that i actually brought up with that therapist that precipitated the realization was i started vacuuming a corner of my room repeatedly like over the course of several weeks, every day. just obsessively vacuuming this corner because i kept finding tiny cat litter crystals there from a previous tenant. i'd be literally picking it out of the carpet with my fingers with my head parallel to the floor just staring and trying to find these things for like an hour at a time. colossal waste of time. but it was "important." and i was finally like...THIS is excessive, right?

but i do a lot of things that are the opposite of "classic" OCD which confused me for YEARS - like i genuinely have such poor food hygiene and don't care about bodily fluids, i love touching sticky things, my personal things are poorly organized, my room was always a mess, etc etc.

i got officially evaluated when i went in for the psilocybin study (beginning of this year) where i met an OCD specialist for the first time who did this complete battery of questions with me. there were things i never realized were OCD for me:

very obsessed with parasitic insects and constantly checking for bedbugs and fleas even when i have no reason to suspect these things

constantly re-reading everything i write. 5x. 10x. saying whole sentences over and over in my head. the sentence is fine, i didn't make a mistake, but i just have to keep reading it to be 1000% sure.

rubbing my scalp a lot and pulling out random hairs on my legs, eyebrows, eyelashes

over-explaining so fucking much to be absolutely sure i'm not misunderstood or that someone can read bad intentions into what i'm saying. "predicting" conversations and anticipating entire lines of questioning and how i would defend myself. lol.

intrusive horror film-esque thoughts

being terrified as a child that i would be possessed by a demon if i yawned too wide - i had other extremely irrational superstitions that i would force on myself and try to live by for no reason, these started at like age 10

obsessions around my health (orthorexia, i've ping-ponged between various diets like vegan / gluten-free / vegetarian thinking that it would help me)

only ever felt normal when drinking. like i could just let go of the compulsions and anxiety while drunk.

it was really hard to even parse a lot of this out being 1) already anxious, 2) raised very religious, and 3) BOTH my parents and my older sister have OCD, so all this was just normal!! my mom also pulled out her hair. my mom and my sister also had eating disorders and very weird attitudes around medicine. superstitions and moral scrupulosity were encouraged in our community. i had no reason to think that any of this could all be linked back to an actual disorder.

i really wish i'd had intervention at least a decade or more earlier. this started when i was in grade school at least. it sucks. so much of the public perception of OCD is centered on the classic symmetry / cleanliness / hand-washing shit. it did not help that my family loved watching Monk when i was growing up so i was like "oh, i'm not like THAT" and never questioned it.

i think(?) i might go to the big OCD conference happening in the states next year, not sure, but i really want to talk to people about psilocybin. idk let me know if you have any other questions, i'm still processing a lot of this.