#so i changed them because it just. looked better

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── FIRST TIME ♥︎

...or, well, their first time.

♥︎ pairing .ᐟ nerd!rafe x pervert!reader

♥︎ summary .ᐟ rafe texts reader to come over while he’s drunk, and the next day something special happens.

♥︎ warnings .ᐟ fluff, smut, MDNI! loss of virginity (m), protected piv, praise wc: 1.9k

♥︎ author's note .ᐟ the last post on my 3k celebration <3 i hope y’all like it!!

PERVERT MASTERLIST ♥︎ 3K MASTERLIST

he's all over the place. and for some reason, it's so adorable.

your brows furrowed the moment your phone was buzzing and you saw that the contact 'my love♡' was calling you when you're usually the one doing the calling. but the moment you answered and heard the slur in rafe's voice, it was like a lightbulb lit up over your head.

even though it was one in the morning, you made the trek to the men's dormitory because he was threatening to come to the women's if you didn't, and you knew that if he tried coming here, he'd probably end up sleeping in a ditch on the side of the road.

and the moment he opened the door, he was grinning from ear to ear, his cheeks flushed pink, and his pupils blown wide as if he was looking at the most precious thing in the world.

"honeyyy!"

the boy who so rarely initiated affection threw his arms around you, making your brows nearly rise to your hairline. for once, you were the one getting flustered.

"babe, what-"

"i missed you so much." rafe interrupted you by letting out an exasperated sigh, squeezing you in his arms. "why weren't you here with me?" he looked down at you, his lower lip jutting out in a pout, his eyebrows knitted together.

"c'mon. c'mere." you urged, tugging rafe towards his neatly made bed, the six-foot boy stumbling onto it, letting out the most adorable laugh. you sat down on the edge of his bed as your boyfriend laid there, looking up at you with the sweetest smile on his lips. you pushed a strand of loose hair behind his ear, stroking his warm cheek, "y'know, i don't think i've seen you drunk before. it's adorable."

he hid his face into his sheets, but you brought your finger to tickle the side of his throat, forcing rafe to turn around and look up at you, "i was just playing some drinking games." he mumbled and fixed the glasses on the bridge of his nose, a small imprint left by them on his tanned nose.

you gasp dramatically, "you have friends?"

"shut up." he laughed, hiding his face once again, but now it was in your bare thigh, not having had time to change out of your pajama shorts before you made your way over to his dorm. "it was online friends, technically. but it still counts." the boy mumbled.

"you're such a loser." you say with a fond smile, "it might be my favorite thing about you."

your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you felt rafe's teeth around your thigh; he didn't bite, simply pretended to. you broke into a fit of giggles, throwing your head back as you stroked his hair, "what was that about?"

"'m not a loser." the boy whined, kicking his feet against the mattress.

"well, what if i say that you're my loser? that any better?"

"a bit." rafe sighed, his hot breath fanning against your bare skin, his warm lips pressing a small kiss on your thigh before he turned his head to look up at you, his brows furrowed, the boy clearly deep in thought. "what are you thinking about, rafe?"

"does it ever bother you that... i'm not really experienced."

you scoffed, shaking your head, "where's this coming from?"

"you're... clearly more experienced than i am-"

"are you calling me a slut?" you ask, feigning offense as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. rafe's eyes widened, and the boy sat up in bed, stammering. "n-no, of course not, i'd never-"

you interrupted his upcoming rant by bringing your lips to rafe's, your hand around his throat, squeezing only slightly, but even that was enough to make him let out a gasp of a breath against your lips.

as you pulled away from the kiss, you left another quick peck on his lips, the boy looking at you in a half-lidded daze through his long lashes.

"the answer is no. i don't give a fuck about that." you pushed rafe down so he was laying on the bed, making him let out a surprised yelp. you took off his glasses and placed them neatly on the nightstand and made yourself comfortable next to him, nuzzling into his chest, drawing small patterns on his chest through his band t-shirt, "sleep. silly."

"mmpf… alright…" rafe mumbled, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head as he closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. it wasn't long until your boyfriend started to drift off to sleep, but the last words the boy heard were whispered to him by a familiar voice…

"i'll just have to make sure to teach you."

you wake up to the feeling of slight stubble running down your neck, making you smile as your eyes flutter open, finding your boyfriend kissing down your neck, "what are you doing?" you ask, your voice slightly husky from having just woken up.

"i think i'm ready." rafe mumbled against your skin, his hand trailing down to the waistband of your shorts. you instantly knew what he meant; hand- and mouth stuff always felt nice but whenever you saw your boyfriend's dick, you couldn't help but wish that you could feel him stretch you out, to feel the pretty, pink head of his cock kissing your cervix...

"are you sure you're not still drunk?" you teased as you watched rafe tug your shorts down your soft legs, throwing them to the side.

"no." rafe mumbled against your skin in his rough morning voice, nipping at your neck, "but as a half-sober man, i definitely consent to this."

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head, before grabbing his shoulders and rolling him down to the mattress and straddling him, switching positions so he was underneath you. "you have no idea how long i've been waiting for this..." you purr, running your manicured nails down his bare chest.

reaching for the nightstand, you pull the drawer open, holding up a purple square of foil and raising your brows suggestively. "you come prepared." rafe snorted, his cock starting to harden underneath you, his hands resting on your hips.

"i have a whole box of these in my own room. i hid one here just in case." you grinned suggestively, grabbing the hem of your shirt and taking it off, throwing it onto the ground. rafe's eyes went wide, and the boy could feel his throat get dry as you revealed your bare chest to him.

"i... i don't think i can ever get used to this." he mumbled quietly, his hand slowly trailing up your waist, his thumb pressing against your pebbled nipple.

"what, getting to see boobs in real life and not on your two computer screens?" you giggled, watching as your boyfriend's cheeks reddened underneath you, a pout on his lips, but giving rafe a small peck on his lips was enough to make it go away. "you need help putting this on?" you asked, ripping the condom wrapper open with your teeth and grinning at him.

it had been so long since you'd actually had something other than fingers or plastic inside of you that feeling his warm cock stretching you was almost... new. you couldn't help but gasp into his mouth, your lips pressed against his, barely even kissing, your breaths mingling together.

"fuck..." rafe mumbled, the noise drowned out by your lips on his. you smiled, moving your hips up, swallowing a breathy sigh the boy underneath you let out. you pulled your lips further from his, looking down at him as you moved your hips over him, the boy's blue eyes glassy and blissed out.

"you look so cute under me." you moan as you sink yourself down on him again, your hand tangling in his hair, tugging on the sand-colored strands as you move on top of him, rafe's grip on your hips tightening. you tugged his head back by his hair, the prettiest whine leaving rafe's lips, making you smile as you brought your lips to his once again. "clit." you whispered, placing a featherlight peck on his lips, the boy looking up at you with a dazed expression that was the most adorable thing in the world. "clit, baby."

rafe's eyes widened slightly, making you chuckle, before his hand moved closer to your pussy, your wet heat clenching around him as rafe brought his thumb to draw small circles onto your clit, small gasps escaping your lips.

"good boy..." one of your hands travelled down the nape of his neck, now trailing over the short strands, rafe shiverring under you in a way that made your entire body vibrate.

"feels so good..." rafe mumbled, bringing his lips to your chest, giving your hard nipple the tiniest of licks, "fuck..." you threw your head back in pleasure. at that moment, it didn't matter to you that you'd slept with people before him, or that he hadn't; because nothing in your life had felt as fulfilling as this.

"i-i'm getting close..." rafe moaned, the vibrations against your nipple causing shivers to run down your spine, rafes hips bucking up into you as you picked up the pace of your own hips, bringing your lips down on his, kissing the boy.

"'s okay..." you breathed out, continuing to move on top of him, pulling back slightly so your nose was pressed against his, looking at his closed eyes with such fondness, "let go for me, baby."

"f-fuck... oh, fuck..." rafe groaned underneath you as you continued moving your hips, bringing your hand to rest over his between your legs, guiding him to press more urgent circles on your clit as you looked down at the blissed out face of your boyfriend, his mouth open wide.

you couldn't help yourself, feeling the pressure in your stomach release as you started clenching around him, another round of gasps leaving rafe's lips, his eyelids twitching as his lips screwed into an adorable smile.

it wasn't long until the two of you were side by side in the small bed in rafe's dorm, your manicured nails drawing little hearts on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat, a small smile on your lips. you lifted your head up slightly, and your eyes flickered to his blue ones, glimmering due to the sunlight flooding in through the blinds, the boy looking down at you with a small smile. "what are you looking at?" he asked softly.

"you." you whispered, "hey, rafe?"

"what is it?" rafe stroked your hair, that adorable dimple showing up on his cheek, making you wanna poke it. and it all felt so perfect, all made you feel like you could go the rest of your life looking at that dimple, like you could go the rest of your life looking at no one but him.

"i love you."

rafe's eyes widened, his smile slightly fading before another one appeared, now one that didn't show his dimple, the boy clearing his throat before muttering out a response.

"that's... that's sweet. thank you."

[betty-fran]

SNW is probably the last thing I want to watch, and there are many reasons for that (but, yes, this is the main one).

Commenting on something you haven't watched isn't the best idea, but even from what I've seen, I have a lot of questions for the creators of the series. And probably the most important one, who are these people and how will they become the people we saw in TOS in just a few years? And why do all the actors look like they've stepped out of either a Netflix relationship show you'll never watch, or a passing cop show where everyone's hot, but you don't remember any of the characters?

Spock. Okay, why does this guy keep calling himself that? Why did he take his shirt off? Why did he kiss that blonde? Oh, he screams, and cries, and hugs. He seems more emotional and tactile than I am, and I usually scare introverts...

Chapel. She's really cute, honestly, the only thing I liked about SNW, even though she still has nothing to do with the original Star Trek. And she reminds me of Kirk, especially AOS Kirk, especially AOS Kirk from so many fanfics where he's more funny than an asshole. Honestly, guys, it's the 21st century, but for S and K, the authors are ready to write any love story, even a homosexual one, but they won't be given a chance to be together.

Jim. Oh, I've seen him somewhere before, and no, it wasn't in TOS. And why is he older than Shatner when he played Kirk, if it's a prequel? And I read that this Kirk has a better relationship with salad, is that true?

A pretty woman with a strange name, a relative of Khan, is having an affair with Kirk. Oh, this is starting to sound like The Rings of Power.

Number One. Finally has a name (and it's actually good) and looks like she just returned from a space flight with Katy Perry. I'd rather not think that she's my favorite female TOS character because it makes me sad.

Pike. Well, he's always been a difficult read - he's not talked about much in TOD, and even less so in AOS, and given his history he has this archetypal hero-from-legend vibe, which makes him a little less personal and more like a tapestry of a knight, which isn't great for a series where he's a lead protagonist. I don't know how SNW handles this story-wise, but visually, it doesn't. I'm actually really old-fashioned, but I'm really sad how the idea of ​​true beauty has changed, and how artificial it seems now.

(just bring them back! it was a real cinema!)

Through Star Trek, it's actually good to follow how the world is changing, because each of the Star Trek series actually reflects the time in which it was filmed. I've read the opinion that SNW captured the spirit of the old Star Trek quite and, well, I can only take their word for it. But watching TOS now, I can say that it's unlikely that anyone today can truly capture its spirit, and when someone can, it will be the day of a utopian future for cinema. From what I've seen, SNW really only conveys well the stagnation in which modern cinema finds itself, which has long been trying to please everyone at the same time and is therefore unable to express any specific self-sufficient thought.

star trek used to be about gays in space

now they just make Spock kiss women

[izzih22]

you should definitely do a fic of pazzi of when they get into a heated argument (slamming doors , screaming 😼) then one of them ignore or give the other silent treatment for like a day or two. then like they make up and js cute fluff ! I rlly hope that makes sense and you see the vision ykyk😛

The Worst Way to Love You

Note: I hope I got it right also here y’all go stay active pleas and thank you

They’ve been together for years—since high school, since long-distance flights and FaceTimes that lasted until sunrise. They know each other better than they know themselves.

Which is why it hurts so much when they fight.

Because no one else can cut you open like the person who’s memorized every piece of you.

⸻

Thursday, 9:12 p.m. – UConn Dorms

Azzi’s sitting on the edge of their bed, back straight, jaw clenched, arms crossed over her chest. She’s been trying to stay calm. She’s always the calm one.

Paige is standing with her arms thrown up in exasperation, pacing.

“So now I’m selfish? That’s what we’re doing?” Paige’s voice is sharp, edged in disbelief.

“I didn’t say selfish,” Azzi replies, controlled but cold. “I said inconsiderate.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“No, it’s not. It means you don’t think about how your actions affect other people—me. You just do what you want, and I’m left trying to adjust around you.”

Paige’s eyes flash. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is always being the one who bends!” Azzi fires back, louder now, standing. “I rearranged everything this week so I could be there for your appointment and then you just… bailed. No text. No call. Nothing.”

Paige runs a hand through her hair, jaw tight. “I forgot! I had weights, and then Geno pulled me for film, and—”

“You forgot?” Azzi repeats. “That’s your excuse?”

Paige’s hands drop to her sides. “I’m not perfect, Az.”

Azzi laughs without humor. “I never asked you to be. I just want to matter enough that you remember I exist outside of practice.”

There it is.

The sentence that slices Paige straight down the middle.

“You know you matter to me,” she says, quieter now, but it’s sharp, desperate. “Don’t do that. Don’t pretend like you’re just some afterthought—”

“Then why do I always feel like I come last?”

The silence that falls is suffocating.

And Paige—Paige who’s always so quick with words, with fire—says nothing.

Azzi’s eyes are glassy now, but she doesn’t cry. Not yet. “You get to be everything for everyone. The leader, the hero, the player who carries us. But I’m the one who’s always here when you burn out. And I don’t mind—I love you—but it gets lonely when the only time you need me is when you’re falling apart.”

Paige’s voice is barely a whisper. “That’s not true.”

But Azzi just nods once. “Okay.”

And walks into the bathroom. Closes the door.

Paige stares at it.

And then turns around, walks to the front door, and leaves.

⸻

Friday Morning – Silent

They don’t speak.

Azzi makes tea for herself. No extra mug.

Paige comes back after class and doesn’t even change in their room.

They go to practice and Paige leads warmups like nothing’s wrong—voice loud, encouragement booming—but no one misses how she doesn’t look at Azzi once.

Azzi doesn’t flinch when Geno yells at her. Doesn’t smile when Ice makes a joke. She’s locked in. Focused.

But not with Paige. Not beside her, like always.

The team doesn’t ask. But Morgan mutters to Aubrey, “They’re too synced. When something’s off, it messes with the whole vibe.”

Aubrey hums. “It’s like the moon fighting the sun.”

⸻

Friday Night – 11:38 p.m.

Paige is curled up on the couch, hoodie pulled over her head, scrolling through old photos.

Her finger pauses on one: Azzi asleep in Paige’s hoodie, curled against her chest in a hotel room during their sophomore year. Paige remembers the way Azzi had mumbled “I love you” in her sleep.

She presses the screen to her chest, eyes wet.

She wants to say she’s sorry.

But they’ve been here before—where love feels like too much and not enough all at once. Where they push because they’re scared. Where they hurt each other, not out of hate, but because they love so hard and don’t always know what to do with it.

⸻

Saturday – All Day

They don’t text. They don’t fight. They don’t speak.

It’s worse than yelling.

Paige doesn’t sleep. Azzi doesn’t eat.

KK walks into the locker room after a solo shootaround and sees Paige staring at the floor, earbuds in but no music playing.

“She’s not okay,” KK says later.

Ice snorts. “You think?”

⸻

Saturday Night – 10:01 p.m.

Azzi walks into the room after dinner with her mom. She pauses in the doorway.

Paige is sitting on the bed—her bed—knees pulled to her chest.

She looks up.

Azzi doesn’t move.

And then Paige’s voice cracks. “I didn’t forget because I didn’t care. I forgot because everything’s moving so fast and I’m overwhelmed and I didn’t want to ask you to carry more of my weight.”

Azzi says nothing.

So Paige keeps going.

“I let everyone down if I drop the ball. Geno. The team. The program. I can’t let them see me slip. But with you… I don’t want you to see me like that either.”

Now Azzi steps in.

“But I already have. I know you like that, Paige. Messy. Tired. Stubborn. You’re not too much for me. You never have been.”

Paige’s eyes fill. “I just didn’t want to keep being the one who needs. I want to show up for you, too.”

Azzi kneels in front of her, hands on Paige’s knees. “Then let me in before you fall. Not after.”

There’s a pause.

And then Paige folds.

She slides down, presses her forehead to Azzi’s shoulder, and breaks.

“I missed you,” she whispers.

“I missed you too.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t come back.”

Azzi wraps her arms around her tightly. “There’s nowhere else I’d go.”

⸻

Later

They’re tangled in bed, Paige clinging to Azzi like her anchor. Azzi strokes her back, slow and soothing.

“I said some stuff I didn’t mean,” Paige whispers. “About not needing you.”

Azzi kisses her temple. “I knew you didn’t mean it. That’s why I didn’t leave.”

“You’re the only thing that makes all the pressure worth it.”

Azzi smiles against her hair. “You’re not a burden, Paige. You’re mine.”

Paige sniffles. “Even when I’m a disaster?”

“Especially then.”

⸻

Sunday – Practice

They’re back to moving as one.

Paige’s energy is electric. Azzi’s calm cuts through it like a blade. And when Geno calls a timeout, he mutters to KK, “Looks like the wives made up.”

KK grins. “Balance restored.”

Paige and Azzi fist-bump after a perfect backdoor cut.

And maybe Paige kisses Azzi in the tunnel when no one’s looking.

But that’s just between them.

[adorekento]

Thinking about Nanami Kento who started eating pineapples because he read somewhere that says it makes your cum taste better.

Yes. That’s all it took. One article.

He swore by it like it was gospel. And he’s definitely the type to believe anything he sees on social media—he once showed you an AI-generated video of a cat breakdancing with the most serious face and asked, “How do they train them to do this?”

You love him. Truly.

But sometimes, your man is a little too earnest.

At first, you didn’t think much of it.

“Pineapples?” you asked, brows raised as you pushed the grocery cart down the aisle, glancing at him with suspicion. He nodded, stepping beside you to help push the cart toward the fruit section.

“I’ll eat it. Don’t worry.” he said with the most nonchalant tone.

You snorted. “Ken, you never eat pineapples. Don’t play with me.”

He shrugged casually, reaching out for a ripe one. “Just trying out new things, darling.”

You didn’t press. You just smiled and kept shopping.

But then it became a pattern.

He started slicing pineapples right after breakfast. Drinking pineapple juice after lunch. Eating pineapple rings straight from the fridge after dinner. You’d find him standing by the counter at night—shirtless, towel around his waist, wet hair from the shower—cutting up fresh chunks like it was his new religion.

“What’s gotten into you, Ken?” you asked one night, leaning against the doorway in one of his old shirts. “Is this part of some new diet?”

“Don’t mind me, dear..” he said smoothly, offering you a slice. “Want some?”

You declined, shook your head, and walked back to your shared bedroom.

Then came the requests—“Can you pack me some pineapple slices for lunch, love?”

“Could you make me a pineapple smoothie before I head out?”

“Do we still have those pineapple popsicles?”

Now you were suspicious.

And then... you understood.

“O-Oh... Ken!”

You gasped, your voice muffled as he held your hair tighter, his other hand gripping the edge of the couch cushion. He was on the couch, legs spread, breathing ragged as you took his cock deeper into your mouth.

His hips rolled up slowly, purposwfully, guiding you with control and need. “Yes... darling... mhm—just like that...” he groaned, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through your core.

You moaned softly around him, and he twitched against your tongue.

“Fuck... your mouth feels so good, baby.” he hissed, head falling back, golden brows furrowing in pleasure. “So pretty like this. So good for me.”

You hollowed your cheeks, slow and steady, letting your tongue trace every ridge and vein as his hips bucked slightly, losing composure.

His jaw clenched, brows drawn together, and his abs tensed under the golden glow of your bedroom lamp. He looked so perfect—hair damp, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in quiet awe as if you were divine.

Then his breath hitched. He cursed—low and deep—before he came, faster than usual. Hot, thick, with that slight tang you’d started noticing lately.

Your lashes fluttered, heart pounding as you stayed there, taking it all—tasting him, claiming him.

You closed your eyes for a second, letting your breath fan against his sensitive skin, before pulling off him slowly with a soft, wet pop. His chest rose and fell hard, like he’d just sprinted a marathon in your name.

Still catching his breath, He lookwd down at you, flushed. “is it… better?” he asked, a little hopeful, a little shy, like he’d just asked for validation on a science fair project.

You blinked up at him and raised a brow. “Mhm. It felt good, baby.”

“I’m glad,” he murmured, voice still thick with pleasure. But then, not too long.. “That’s all?”

You tilted your head. “What do you mean, Ken?”

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting away. “Well… I... read this article—it says if you eat pineapples regularly, it… um… makes your... release taste sweeter.”

You stared at him.

He cleared his throat. “So I’ve been… keeping track. Just curious if there's some change..”

You blinked again.

Then laughed. Loudly. Almost doubled over, laughing into his thigh.

“Oh, Ken.” you said through your grin, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. “You’ve been training for that? You do know you don’t have to, right? Your cum already tastes good.”

He flushed. Actually flushed. “I just thought... maybe it’d be even better.”

“You’re ridiculous.” you giggled, crawling up his body and pressing kisses to his jaw. “And weird. But… weird in a sweet, earnest, completely MY boyfriend way.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

“You should. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Later that night, you found him watching a video titled “5 Signs Your Boyfriend Hates You”, his face set with that same intense seriousness. He nodded along, mentally ticking off the signs to make sure he wasn't doing them with you. You didn't even bother to say anything. You just grabbed his collar and kissed him, harder.

a/n: it doesn't make ur cum taste sweet btw 🥀 ALSO I'm writing some long ass shit plz WAIT 💔

© [ adorekento ] do not steal, repost, or translate my work.

[janecafe]

SELF-EMPOWERMENT PAC: how does it feel to be in love with you 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝘶𝘯𝘰 - 𝘥𝘰𝘴 - 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴

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~ if you can, leave a little tip here on the gratuity jar for me to rent a comfortable and safe place for my pop-up coffee shop. your small amount of donations can make huge changes to someone else's business 🤓

©janecafe 2025

₊˚ʚ 𝐔𝐍𝐎 🦢 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

it feels very tempting and convincing. if this is a game of gambling then they are willing to bet all of their heart even though the chances are unpredictable. if love was a war they are willing to be a soldier. if love was a prison they are willing to be in jail. if love was means sacrifices they're willing to do for everything. if love makes you better then they're willing to change. that's how love being felt with you, a person who is interested in you is gonna sense the belong, constant and satisfaction.

if you are someone's interest, falling for you was a hard phase because you are giving out an extra ordinary of an "mystic" person. it also means taking yourself at a "risk" and get yourself out in vulnerability.

it's a blessing to be in love with you. safe, maturity and gracious love. you are a dream that cannot escape, a voyage you wanted to repeat again and again and paradox of milk and honey. it's a story about how you love them and how they love you too, it's a very obvious thing but except for these two people.

₊˚ʚ 𝐃𝐎𝐒 🦢 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

i felt like i was in a dreamy and deep romantic atmosphere. god i love this pile two people 😌🤌🏻🩷

to be in love with your presence is a feeling of miracle, it's like even words aren't enough to describe you although a song and certain lyrics can be a poetic way to project your aura. it can also exude your whole existence on earth.

even cosmic is beyond explanation—something extraordinary. they can't even compare your divinity to others, it's like they are expressing how deeply they are in awe with your love. while, looking into their eyes brings a sense of something sacred and life-changing.

your love has given a sense of purpose and salvation. it's like a feeling of the friday for having an end of a rough long week that brings joy and relief to individuals. to be loved by you is a wish for the time to stop- so your person can spend more time to show their affection much longer and unbroken and don't want to waste any single moment.

your love compares to an exclusive theater performance where every second is precious and fleeting, making it even more valuable.

this person is worshipping you for real.

₊˚ʚ 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐒 🦢 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

loving you is like being carried by powerful and unpredictable waves. anyone who would fall for you is gonna be mesmerized by your untamable and wild nature.

although, wild waves cannot be tamed, your person could watch in awe and adore you dangerously. that's how love feels with you.

this can be the sweetest and sad story. loving you was giving the feeling of longing and being captivated. it was the best moment, admiring your beauty despite the hours they might spend. challenges and magic can be felt with your presence. like a beautiful piece of art in a museum, you wanted to stay and explore more but you know you can't have it because of it's values and historic importance.

all you can do is admires it. you are seraphic and everyone are willing to fight just to look in your eyes.

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

[amiableness]

Hockey!James Potter x Lupin!Reader ❆ 980 words | it's been forever since i posted, hope you all enjoy this <3

series masterlist ; main masterlist

James Potter took his birthday seriously—it always had to be loud, chaotic, and completely unforgettable. It suited him. But this year was different. No plans to fly somewhere warm and throw a beachside party, no talk of renting out an entire pub for the night—nothing. 

Just a quiet night at a local pub with his closest friends—nothing more. When Remus and Sirius heard about the lack of celebration, Sirius’ shoulders slumped in dramatic disappointment. He’d already laid out his suitcase, half-packed and ready to jet off to wherever James decided to party this year. Remus, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as dismayed. If anything, he was relieved. Traveling meant leaving you alone, which he was never fond of—and worse, it usually meant playing designated caretaker while the others drank themselves into oblivion.

Being James’ closest friends meant they fully expected him to change his mind. Any day now, he’d come bursting into their shared house, grinning like a madman, rambling about the last-minute trip he’d just booked—or the outrageous party he’d suddenly thrown together.

But none of that happens. And even now, as they sit in a perfectly average pub, Remus and Sirius keep one eye on James, still half-expecting him to announce some last-minute twist. But he doesn’t. He hardly smiles a real smile all night, nursing his beer and casting hopeful glances toward the door—like he’s waiting for something, or someone.

“Mate,” Sirius slaps his hand down on the bar beside Remus, startling him as he waits for his drink. Remus glances over at a rosy-cheeked Sirius, who’s pointing toward James with his drink in hand, as if he couldn’t tell exactly who he’s talking about. Any mention of you always seemed to loop back to James. “Did he invite your sister?”

“Very likely. He probably chatted her up at practice and slipped it in casually,” Remus replies, arching an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Is she coming?” Sirius presses, leaning forward with a hint of urgency in his voice.

Remus snorts. “She’s probably at home reading some romance book.”

Sirius frowns, nodding towards the phone he knows is tucked away in his pocket. “Call her. Right now.”

“Why?” Remus raises an eyebrow. 

“Because, look at that miserable bastard!” Sirius bursts out, his voice carrying across the pub and catching the attention of a group of girls sitting a few seats down. Remus flashes them an apologetic, embarrassed smile.. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off the door all night. I hate to admit it, but this night’s a total bust.”

Remus raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. “So, you want me to call her so you can have a better night?”

Sirius glares at him, unamused. “No, I want you to call her so he can have a better night. Also, I didn’t get him a birthday present, and I’m pretty sure this would top whatever you all managed to get him.”

Remus glances over at James, and sure enough, he’s nursing his drink, his eyes flicking toward the door before quickly returning to the curly-haired girl in front of him. She seems completely unaware of his wandering gaze, but James, on the other hand, looks entirely disengaged from the conversation. It’s clear to Remus that Sirius is right—if you were here, James’s attention would be entirely on you. There wouldn’t be any doubt about whether or not he was enjoying his birthday.

Remus exhales a soft sigh, grabbing his phone and standing up. Sirius claps him on the back with a grin, muttering praises about making the right call.

You don’t take nearly as long to show up as Remus expected, leaving him wondering if you were already ready for James’s birthday but didn’t quite have the courage to show. His gaze lingers on the soft hue of lipstick glossing your lips, then dips to the denim skirt he’s certain he’s never seen you wear. An amused smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, slow and knowing.

“That didn’t take you long.” He comments casually. You shoot him a sharp glare, pure annoyance as you take the drink from Sirius’s outstretched hand. He ushers you along with a grin, clearly pleased by your arrival.

“I can’t stay long—” Remus hears you start to protest, your voice trailing off as Sirius pulls you through the crowd, undeterred. There’s a slight wince on your face when he cups a hand around his mouth and shouts, “Oi, James! Got your birthday present, mate!”

A few of their teammates whistle, exchanging knowing grins as their eyes land on you—well aware of James’s long-standing, schoolboy crush. Remus watches your expression shift somewhere between mortified and amused, but you let Sirius lead you on anyway. 

James turns away from the girl mid-sentence, a confused frown flickering across his face—only to melt into a grin the moment he sees you. He doesn’t hesitate, weaving through the crowd like nothing else exists. Remus can’t hear what he says, but he doesn’t need to. He knows James greets you with that soft, honeyed “angel”—a tone he reserves for no one else.

Remus has heard it a thousand times, but only when James is talking to you.

He makes a mental note to ask him about it later, but it’s obvious to him now that James kept things simple this year, just in case you decided to show up. There was no way you’d have gone along with the kind of wild birthdays he'd thrown in the past.

And for someone who insisted they weren’t staying long—who told Remus to fuck off, I’m busy when he first asked—you don’t exactly look eager to leave. There’s a soft smile tugging at your lips as you tilt your head up to meet James’s eyes, like you forgot what excuse you’d made in the first place.

Remus knows without a doubt that Sirius did win best present.

previous blub | next blurb

please please pleasae consider reblogging and/or commenting. it keeps me motivated to continue writing and reblogging spreads it to others <3

[sourle]

I love your Au so much! I feel so bad to the y/n so much..so I got a idea came out of my mind while I listened to silly billy(a dang popular fnf song) and it remind me of that au of if y/n get heavily tired of been ignored just because of they past..So if y/n became a killer like the other, they would sing the line of the silly billy song( IM SO SORRY IF YOU DONT UNDERSTAND ENGLISH ISBT NY FIRST LANGUAGE AND IT WAS THE IDEA I HAVE-)

Proud of me

Silly Billy

WARNINGS: BLOOD, VIOLENCE, SLIGHT GORE, READ AT YOUR OWN RISKS!

Note: "I'll make— you say— how proud you are of me."

It wasn't intended, really. You've never thought the hatred could get this bad. How? Why? Taph..

Did they lied to him? Did they influenced him?

You choked on your tears, gripping the picture frame. It hurts so much to know no one trusted you anymore, not even Taph.

The sound of your shuddering breathing and sobs filled the silence in the cabin. You were moved by Shedletsky to another cabin, furthest from the other, saying it was necessary. But seeing as how close it is to the path leading to where the killer's hideout was, worried you.

Though he insisted on you staying there, alone. Taph were previously your cabin-mates. Guess now he isn't seeing as he moved his belongings into Dusekkar's cabin before you were moved.

Did you do something? What wrong did you do? You can't remember.

Alone. Everytime. Every second. Every hour. Every day. Every. Ticking. Time.

Are they not convinced enough you've changed?

You still stay friendly with them despite everything.

You stare at the familiar panel in front of you, seeing the screen you vouch to never touch ever again.

The time is almost over. It's almost the end time.

You heard a scream, one that's familiar to Dussekkar's voice. You got up, hiding the panel away from everyone, and left the hill.

Running towards the voice you saw both Dussekkar and Guest limping, Chance's gun exploded on him in an attempt to save Dusekkar from Jason.

Taking out your gun, you shoot it at Jason. It hits, stunning him. Giving both Dussekkar and Guest to escape, without even a thanks from either one.

Are you that bad? They never acknowledge you anymore. Not even Him. Taph.

You snapped back into reality hearing Chance pained groans. Your eyes widen as he runs up to you and shoves you behind them towards the killer

Then you felt it. The machete hitting your neck. Scar so deep it bleeds a river, unfortunately not enough to end you from the pain.

You felt him pull the machete back, resuming chase on Chance who's low. You choked, grasping at the wound on your neck.

Falling to the ground with sob you can't even get out of your mouth. The pain felt like it was burning, it's agonizing.

You heard another scream. Shouting out Taph's name. No.

He's in danger, get up. GET UP!

You can't, despite you trying. You can't. You're close to death, yet seems like The Spectre didn't want you to.

You squint your eyes, remembering something. You held back the pain, clenching your teeth.

The second tick, 10 seconds.

You muster up all your energy, a panel opened up in front of you.

You can't give up.

5 seconds.

You pulled yourself towards the panel. Reaching a hand out to click that one button.

3

You hissed, feeling the pain sharpened.

2

You're good enough! You're enough! You'll prove them!

1

I'll make them proud of me.

Builderman stares at the timer, confused on why it restarted. He turns to the other who looks confused as well.

Is there a continuous round? Last time he check there's none. New event?

He turns to Shedletsky and Guest, both staring out at the area near the mansion. Everyone is here, except Two time. Said they'll go check the whole map to see what's going on.

SNAP—

Builderman, Shedletsky, and Guest turn their attention to the snapping noise. It sounds so familiar— Is it c00lkid?

There they stood, over Two time's mangled body.

Is that— [Name]?

"Am I strong enough? Did I prove enough to be better!? Please say you're proud of me!"

They stare at you, eyes widen. Shedletsky took out his sword, Guest ready himself. Builderman, oh.

He's having a flashback. He knows what your capabilities are.

I'm sorry.

[demonic0angel]

Dan is sulking because none of Dick's friends fear him. He's just "Dick's grumpy/asshole boyfriend"! He hates them all! Except Beast Boy. All the Phantoms vibe with Beast Boy.

(Changed up the ask a tad bc I had an idea lmao)

"So?" Dick asked hopefully. "What do you think?"

His friends had just met his boyfriend, Dan, and he was hoping that they would like him. However, he was disappointed as they all made various faces, most of it negative. Dick wilted as Garth spoke first.

"He seems... fine. Kind of rude and standoffish though."

Rachel frowned. "His soul is even darker than my father's. I think he’s stronger too. I can tell that he didn’t like any of us.”

Vic nodded. "They’re both right. He felt really hostile.”

“Are you sure he’s nice to you? He treats you well, right?” Donna asked, a sharp glare on her face as she looked at her wonder twin up and down. “If he doesn’t, I’ll get rid of him and knock you out of your brainwashing. You’ve been hurt enough, we don’t need another creepy jerk disturbing your life.”

Roy snorted. “He better treat Dick well. Even if he’s stronger than Trigon, we could definitely take him down, right, guys?”

Everyone nodded as Dick sighed in exasperation, although he was smiling a tad. “I promise that he treats me really well. Gar? Kori? What do you two think?”

“Seems chill,” Gar said with a shrug. He stretched out in his kitty form, where he had been curled up and loafing on the sofa. “He gives really good chin scratches and he didn’t hurt me at all. Or any of us. He was really gentle. I can smell he likes Dick a lot too.”

He looked at Kori with a kitty smile, tilting his head. “Kori, you agree with me?”

Kori nodded and everyone looked at her in shock. She smiled and said, “I thought he was quite friendly. Perhaps it was while you all were distracted with the food? He is familiar with Tamaranean customs and was very polite. I can sense that he feels deeply and I can tell that he loves Dick very much.” She looked at Dick with a smile and continued, “As long as you’re happy, I approve. Although his attitude definitely needs work.”

Dick blushed. “Thanks. I like him a lot, though I’ll definitely talk to him about being rude to you guys. He’s kinda… well, maybe not kind of, he’s extremely traumatized, so we’ll work on it. But he isn’t too bad, right?”

He looked hopefully at everyone and they all sighed, looking at each other with looks that promised a team-up if Dick got his heart broken again, before they looked back at him and nodded.

Dick beamed. “Thanks, you guys!” Then he paused and looked at Gar and Kori curiously. “Though I wonder why you two got treated the nicest by him?”

Kori and Gar shrugged, also a little confused. No one had any answers for that either.

Later, as Dick called up Dan to ask him about what he thought, Dick asked, “So… why were you treating Kori and Gar the nicest? Gar said that you were really gentle to him.”

Dan’s response was almost comically bland.

“They’re cats.”

[shrimpradar]

5 shrimps!

7 prawns!

How about I mix your genes with my genes? We're so compatible,and our bodies know it come on man none of you are getting laid How about I mix your genes with my genes? Were so compatible,and our bodies know it come on man [trying to flirt] did you know orcas will swim together andmake big waves in order to wash prey off floating broken-off chunks of ice Wanna create offspring with way higher than ususal levels of genetic mutation but not like the kind that makes them die at birth or give them a heart disease but like the kind that allows us to see a new species emerge within our lifetime? (you said the last guy could be more creative I have to be better) uh, you look, breedable? *silly flirting voice* hey baby you wanna change all my dna to rna bc I want U inside me U CAN BLAST MY THANG RIGHT OFF none of you are getting laid hey girl sre you. a bouy spurts sperms cloud at ur egg piles you can call me a serine protease the way i will let you stick it in my binding site and then kill us both I haploid, please halp 🥺👉👈 Orcas go through menopause just like humans do. It's theorized they evolved this way so the community of whales can better take care of their young. Imagine grandma orce, always gives you and excess of food because she wants you to grow up big and strong!! i think if you mixed our genetics together they'd spell "love" I will pay you 5,000 dollars to have sex with me are you CRISPR ? cuz you cpuld get in my jeans 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 ok i take it back these are all excellent

VOTE FOR SHRIMPRADAR IN THE GIMMICK BLOG BRACKET

VOTE HERE

How about I mix your genes with my genes? We're so compatible,and our bodies know it

come on man

[baepsays]

Hi there!!! I absolutely love your Cat-Satoru series (and literally all of your other works too) and I was wondering if we could get a oneshot where Suguru and reader get into a fight so reader doesn’t come around for a while and cat Satoru gets really sad and misses them until they make up?

hi bb thank you sm <3 oh I am loving writing silly stuff about them hehehe I'll try to reflect your vision through my words best to my abilities ^^

Suguru hates fighting with you. Because he knows how petty you are, and how much pettier you can get. Unfortunately for the both of you, he is no less petty.

He holds grudges like he holds a mean grip on your waist in crowded places. So what happens is that poor Satoru gets caught in the crossfire. And the poor thing never understands, despite amazing comprehension of human language, why are you two even fighting in the first place?

If you asked Satoru whether fighting over bedsheets was a valid reason or not, he'd say a big—"MEOW!"

‘NO WAY!’

I mean that day when he woke up under his favourite coffee table, after an amazing nap, to you and Suguru shouting at each other, he just sat between you two with his head tilted and nose twitching.

"YOU CANNOT JUST KEEP USING THESE BLACK SHEETS! I WANT SOME COLOR! AND SILK IN SUMMER IS THE WORST!" You pointed at the bunched up black and shiny sheets on the bed.

"YOU CANNOT JUST CHANGE THEM WITHOUT ASKING ME?" There was a pile of pink cotton sheets right beside the black silken ones.

"Oh. So now I have to ask you before doing you a favour and changing your sheets to better ones?" Sure your voice lowered, but that did not mean you were feeling any more clam than before.

"This is my bed. So yes. You should've asked." Suguru stated as a matter-of-factly.

"Hmm. Alright then, sleep well on your sheets all by yourself." And that was all you said before you headed towards the door with your bag in your hands, with no intention of coming back for at least a few weeks.

What pissed you off more and made that week turn into two weeks, was when Suguru yelled from behind you, "YES I WILL!"

And all that was left in Suguru's apartment was his black silk sheets, your scattered belongings, the beeping noise of the rice cooker, and a very disappointed Satoru who could not run fast enough behind you.

The first few days, Satoru was hopeful you'll drop by at least to see him, but he spent three days by the large windows in the living room, and the bedroom balcony, to realize you're not dropping by anytime soon. And like that almost two weeks were about to pass.

And rolling around in your clothes, or pillows was not working for neither Satoru nor Suguru.

"Meowwwww." Satoru butted his head to Suguru's, who spent his weekend lying on the couch, eating barely anything, and smoking more than what he usually does. Work on Monday was equally shitty, teaching kids suddenly became headache inducing.

"What do you want, Satoru?" Suguru grumbled and changed the show playing on his tv.

"Meowwwww meowmeow." If someone looked close enough, it almost looked like this white fluffy ball of meows was pouting.

Suguru sighed in response, as he has been for the past week, to Satoru's howling meows, and tantrums. "She won't just show up if you meow enough to make my ears bleed."

"MEOW! Meow meowmeow!" Satoru was truly a cat of many abilities, because why is giving relationship advice to his hopeless owner? 'CALL HER! Just call you dumbass!'

"Yeah well she is not responding to me." Suguru changed to another show.

"MEOW! Meow, meow meowmeow." Which translated to something like, 'YEAH DUH! Go over to where she is hiding.'

"Please Satoru. Just go to bed to wait by the window like you always do or something, I'm on the verge of losing it." He just turned the tv off, and laid flat on his stomach, face smooshed in the couch cushions, and ignored Satoru.

"Meow." Satoru jumped off the couch and walked away from Suguru's pity party. 'Hopeless.'

He walked with intention, to find Suguru's phone. Which was charging on his nightstand. Satoru maneuvered carefully from the floor to bed, then bed to the nightstand, tapping his paw all over the phone.

He had no clue what he was doing, all he knew was that sometimes when you were away for work or anything, Suguru would hold the strange box near Satoru and you'd talk through it. And he desperately needed to hear your voice right now, and also convince you to come back.

Somehow Satoru managed to call Suguru's emergency contact, which fortunately happened to be you.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ri-

"Hello?" Your voice sounded groggy from the other side, Satoru was not sure whether it was because you cried like you do while watching sad movies, or like when you played the strays with him and then cried while hugging him. Or that you were just sleepy.

"MEOW!"

"Satoru?"

"MEOW! MEOWMEOWMWOW MEOW!"

"Is everything alright? Where is Suguru? Did you call me by yourself?" You were starting to feel worry creeping into your chest.

"MEOWWWW MEOW." Satoru at this point, what sounded like, was basically crying.

"Are you two ok?" You immediately got off your bed, and reached for your pants and jacket.

"MEOWWWWW! MEOWWWW." Satoru did not mean to worry you, but if his meows were about to get you back here, then sure.

"I'LL BE THERE IN 15 MINS!" And with that you hung up the phone, to grab your keys, then drove down to Satoru and Suguru's place.

When you haphazardly got to Suguru's door, to open it with the key he gave to you—Satoru was sitting there, in front of the door, waiting patiently for you to arrive. As if he understood your panicky scramble, when you told him you'd be there in 15 mins. 

“Meow! Meow!” He quickly tangled himself in your legs, as you stepped out of your shoes. 

“Hi Toru, how have you been?” You crouched down to pick up the cat in your arms, which he gladly obliged. No place better than your arms. 

He felt just a bit more thinner, his fur felt rougher than usual, and the way he was nuzzling and purring in the crook of your neck, it was clear how much your presence was missed. You did not mean to ignore Satoru in the midst of your fight with Suguru, but your pride held you back from opening the front door with the key you were given. Even when you made it that far, you just could not step in. 

Upon walking into the living room, you saw Suguru lying on the couch. His clothes, and hair looked disheveled. There were visible bags under his eyes. And now you could match the pleading tone in his texts, that he's been sending for the last few days, ro his pitiful state.

You cleaned up the living room, turned the tv off, gave Satoru somlove and treats. And went to the bedroom to grab a blanket for Suguru, where you found his bed which was not made, and was decorated with the cotton sheets that started this entire thing. 

So you cleaned up the bed, grabbed a blanket for yourself and Suguru, and fluffy enough for Satoru to sleep on as well—and headed to the couch.

In the morning when Suguru woke up, to Satoru’s butt and tail in his face, he was ready to kick the poor kitty out of his house, when he felt arms tightening around him. He found your face shoved into his chest, holding him tightly, legs tangled up with his, and Satoru’s head resting on yours. 

“You're gonna keep staring?” Your voice rumbled through his chest, as you asked him the question without looking at him. It took him some time to gather the courage to speak to you.

“I am so sorry baby.” His arms tightened around you, and he rolled over to have you lie on top of him, as he nuzzled his face in the crown of your head.

“I know. I am sorry too.” 

“You don't need to be. I was way out of line.” You just needed to understand where he was coming from, Geto Suguru does not function as a unit, but he is learning. He learned how to have Satoru in his life, and he's now learning how to have you in his life. 

“Meowwww.” The moment was broken by a hungry cat’s whining, who required food and your attention. So Suguru once again faced Satoru’s fluffy butt, and tail that made his nose itchy.

“SATORU, I AM SO CLOSE TO LOCKING YOU OUT IN THE BALCONY!” Suguru screamed at him, and went to grab him. But alas, couldn't match Satoru's agile, feline movements.

“Meowmeow meowwww.” And it made you realize just how much more you kissed these two than what you thought. As you sat on the couch, watching Suguru run after Satoru.

‘Catch me if you can, loser.’

ADVENTURES OF CATORU & SUGURU.

a/n: dividers by @/enchanthings-a. not proof read.

[forever-rogue]

I don't know if this is a silly idea so if it is I apologize!

But could you write something where Tommy and the reader were seeing each other in Austin but with all the commotion they didn't have time to look for each other when they were fleeing so they both moved on thinking the other one was killed, but the reader suddenly ends up in Jackson and they get to reunite

AN | Ahh, this has been in my drafts for so long! Reminder that I am also a Tommy Miller enthusiast. I love this concept and I hope you do too 🥰 

Pairing | Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.1k

Masterlist | Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How much longer is it until we’re there?” you were whining, and you knew it. But quite honestly, you didn’t care. You were cold, tired, and hungry, and your feet were killing you. Ellie looked at you and snickered softly; she was young and spritely, everything seemed easy for her. 

“Not much longer if you’d stop your whining,” Joel turned back to you as you gave him an indignant little huff. You knew he was teasing; the two of you butted heads a lot but there was nothing but affection behind it all, “think you can manage?”

“I guess,” you waved him off and fell into step with Ellie, “you know, this place better be worth it.”

“It will be,” he promised and you wanted to believe him. You hoped he was right…things had been hard the last few months and honestly, you really just wanted a nice long break, “trust me.”

“The last time I trusted you, Joel, I ended up on this crazy journey with you and the kid,” you snorted in amusement as the two of them stared at you in surprise, “and - and - I wouldn’t change it for the world. So calm down and stop glaring daggers at me.”

“You know-” but Joel was quickly cut off by the sound of hooves, shouts, and barks. This definitely wasn’t good. 

You exchanged a look with Joel and the two of you surrounded Ellie to make sure she was as hidden as possible. It really was no use because the three of you were as exposed as could be. 

Fuck. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So…many things didn’t turn out as badly as they could have. In fact, it seemed like it really just turned into…the best possible situation. 

You’d not only found your way to Jackson, which already just from the outside was a lot to take in, but Joel had managed to find his brother. It was a shock on both ends but, you realized, life had been a lot like that lately. 

For the first time in a long time, you even allowed yourself to believe that things might actually work out. Hope. It was an odd thing really. 

But it was Joel’s shout that started you out of your little daydream fantasy. You almost slipped off the horse at the sudden shift of him yelling, "Tommy!"

You exchanged a look with Ellie before turning to look in the direction that Joel was currently running to. He'd almost jumped off his horse and was taking off in the direction of another dark haired man. How very curious.

The party came to a stop and the two of you got off your own horses before hesitantly walking over. It appeared that the two brothers had really missed each other. 

Joel let go of the younger man and turned to the two of you with a beaming smile, "this is my younger brother, Tommy."

You turned to the raven-haired man, ready to introduce yourself to him when everything seemed to come to a screeching halt. Time stood still as you realized that you too knew Tommy - at least once upon a lifetime ago you had.

He must have realized at the same time as you had because all he could do was silently look at you in awe. You weren't even sure how to really respond - you hadn't seen him in twenty years. Yet here he was, right as rain and the same as ever.

"Tommy?" You asked softly as he nodded, repeating your name just as quietly. Confusion marred Ellie and Joel's faces, unsure of what was going on, "oh my god."

He hesitated for a moment before holding his arms out and pulling into a hug. A sound somewhere between a sob and laugh escaped your lips as you hugged him back with just as excitement.

You had been sure you'd never see him again. You'd made peace with the fact that the love of your life was dead. 

And yet…there he was. Alive and well. Your Tommy.

When you reluctantly pulled apart, he cradled your face in his hands, tenderly brushing away the tears that rolled down your cheeks. It still felt so unreal, like a wild day dream.

"Does anyone want to explain what's going on here?" Ellie decided to cut through the tender moment and Joel groaned slightly. He was such a dad sometimes, despite what he insisted. 

"Ellie."

"It's okay," you promised, "Tommy and I…we used to…we were dating. Back…you know."

"Before," he finished for you, catching your eye and offering a shy smile, "before everything fell apart."

"Wait…" Joel looked between the two of you, pointing at each of you in turn. He repeated your name and realization dawned on him, "its you? All this time…shit-"

"Language!"

"You've been Tommy's girl?" He was more incredulous than either of you, "how did I never…realize?"

"To be fair, I haven't been anyone's girl in a long time," you stared at your feet, trying not to focus too much on the fact that everyone was staring at you, "and I didn't put two and two together to realize you were his brother. So."

"So," Tommy echoed, rocking back and forth on his heels. Neither of you were quite sure what to say; you never thought you'd been in this position again, "why, ugh, why don't we get you guys settled in? Seems like you might be staying a while."

"Great!" Ellie was able to cut through any of the tension as she stepped between you and Tommy, grabbing hold of his arm. You breathed a small sigh of relief; things had quickly gotten to a point where you didn't know what to even think.

Joel quirked an eyebrow at you but remained silent otherwise. The look was never enough to kill you; damn these Miller brothers. You huffed, "don't say a word, Joel."

He held up his hands in mock surrender as you huffed and followed after Ellie and Tommy.

Well. This day had definitely not gone according to plan. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After that initial afternoon of introductions and reunions, you managed to avoid Tommy for a few days. It wasn't too hard in Jackson; there were way more people than you had initially imagined. It felt so strange, but wonderful, to be somewhere that felt…normal again. Between that and Tommy, it almost seemed like things really were almost like they had been all those years ago.

"Hey there," his soft voice cut through your thoughts as you turned your gaze away from the softly falling snow and onto him. You stiffened for a moment before smiling at him.

"Hey Tommy," you moved over on the bench and brushed off the powdery fluff. He beamed at the silent invitation and sat down next to you, leaving just enough of a gap between your bodies.

"I was wondering if I'd ever see you again," you could hear the teasing lilt in his voice, "I was almost sure you'd been avoiding me."

"I-I wasn't…avoiding you," it was a lie and you both knew it. Tommy laughed, and you realized just how much you loved his laugh. It had always been one of your favorite things. 

"You've always been a horrible liar," he gently nudged your knee with his and you couldn't help the shy smile that bubbled up, "I guess time doesn't change everything."

"I guess not," your stomach churned with a plethora of emotions. Everything all at once. 

"How'd you end up with my brother?" his cheeks flushed and not just from the cold. It took a moment till you caught on and you almost laughed.

"I'm, ugh, I'm not with Joel," you promised and his shoulders visibly relaxed, "we're just friends. Trust me, I'm not - I'm definitely not - interested in him."

"Oh," you peeked over to see the smile on his face grow, "okay, that's umm, yeah. Good. And you've, ugh, never-"

"No," a shiver ran down your spine as you cut him off. Sure, Joel was handsome but you were definitely not into him, "and no thank you."

"Cool," a silence fell over the two of you, neither awkward or completely still.

"What about you and Maria?" Yeah. You were curious too.

"We…we were together for a while," he confessed and you hated how it made your stomach twist and turn. It wasn't your place to be jealous but…you were feeling particularly green, "but it didn't work out. So we're just friends."

"Well, that's good that you're still friends," and your insides were jumping around happily.

"Mhmm," he hummed in agreement before it grew quiet again. You could practically hear Ellie screaming in your ear to make a move. Lord knows that she was absolutely wanting to see the two of you get tougher again. It would be just like a movie she'd sighed dreamily.

You shifted and angled your body so you were facing him and found that he was watching you intently. You opened and closed your mouth a few times and yet somehow he knew exactly what you were thinking. Tommy leaned in and put his hand on your cheek, hesitating for just a moment to search your eyes for permission before kissing you. 

And suddenly it felt like you'd never stopped kissing him. It all felt so familiar and so…right that you thought you'd never want to forget this again. Tommy Miller always kissed you like his life depended on it.

When he pulled away, and for all you knew he could have been kissing for seconds or hours or minutes, you made a small sound of disappointment.

"I know," there was nothing but affectionate teasing behind his voice, "but if I keep kissing you, I might sink and drown, and die. Give a man a second."

"Was it that bad?" Your eyes widened with worry but the man shook his head.

"The opposite," he grinned, "I just needed a moment so I don't get too crazy for you. It's always been hard."

"Oh," alright, that was a way better answer than you'd hoped for, "I've missed that too. Honestly, I've missed you. A lot…but I feel like that's really obvious to say."

"Not a day passed when I didn't think of you," he admitted shyly, "even if it was just  for a moment, but you were still there in my mind. Like it was yesterday."

"Well, I'm sure the reality," you pointed at yourself, "is disappointing compared to the memory."

"That's where you're wrong," he scoffed as though you must have been blind, "you're just as beautiful now as the day I met you."

"Tommy-"

"I mean it," he put his hand on top of yours and gave it a gentle squeeze, "I've dreamed about this day so many times. I never thought…that I would actually get the chance to see you again."

"Me neither," you really wanted to wrap yourself up in him, "I'm just afraid you're not going to like this version of me. What if I'm not like you remember?"

"None of us are the same, sweetheart," he insisted softly, "we've all been through so much shit. But deep down we're all the people we once were."

"You think so?" You could feel the tears welling up already, "I mean, I'm just assuming you'd want to even…try again. You know what, forget I said anything - you don't want-"

"I do," he quickly cut off any of your negative thoughts, "I really do. You think I'd give up this second chance with my dream girl?"

"Dream girl?" and oh. The way you were looking at him made him want to melt, "I'm your dream girl?"

"You always have been and always will be," he grew bashful as you looked at him in awe, "and I think we were given this opportunity for a reason. And I know it's scary, but if you're in, I kind of want to try again. Us."

"Are you sure?"

"I've been thinking about it since the moment I saw you," he leaned in and you were so close you could kiss him - and you definitely intended on doing that again, "so I guess it's up to you, sweetheart."

"I'm in," you promised without hesitation, "all in."

"Me too," and then he kissed you again, softly but with so much love, "all in."

[holyblonded]

dumb and dumber: babysitting | blue stars

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader

summary: against her better judgement, olga leaves you and azulita to babysit valerie

notes: in estrella’s pov this time!!

“Okay, now remember that Val needs to be in bed by 7:00. 7:30 at the latest. Sometimes, just sometimes we go on to 8:00, but only if she’s had a nap, and you have to make sure she’s had the nap first, don’t just assume. And no, rubbing her eyes isn’t enough, she has to actually close them, because she fake-naps sometimes. She’s sneaky like that.”

You’re sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, Valerie tucked between your knees and currently trying to fit her entire fist into her mouth. Across from you, Azulita’s letting the baby stack squishy blocks on her head. Neither of you are listening. Not even a little bit.

Olga’s pacing back and forth behind you with the binder. The sacred, terrifying, overly annotated Baby Binder of Doom. Color-coded tabs. Page protectors. Laminated bedtime routine chart. You swear it has footnotes.

“She gets her bottle at 6:30, but not too hot! Shake it and test it first, on your wrist, not your tongue, because that’s not sanitary. Bath starts at 6:45, but only if she didn’t eat too slow. If she eats too slow, you can adjust the bath to 6:50, but no later than 7:05 or the whole schedule gets thrown off. I swear to God, if you throw off the schedule—”

Valerie lets out a shriek of joy as Azulita sticks out her tongue and pretends to sneeze. You grin and toss a stuffed giraffe at Azulita’s face. It bounces off and hits Val in the arm. She’s delighted. She kicks your thigh and drools in victory.

“She needs the bunny,” Olga continues, flipping a page like she’s briefing you for combat. “The bunny, not the bear, not the raccoon, not that weird dog Estrella got her from that random shop in Portugal. She needs the bunny or she won’t sleep. If the bunny is missing, I swear—”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, offering Valerie a crinkly octopus. She throws it at Azulita’s head.

“Storytime must be one book. No more. She will manipulate you. Don’t fall for the pouty face. That’s how we ended up reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear six times in a row last week. We all suffered.”

“Totally,” Azulita says, balancing a plush cow on her forehead. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Olga doesn’t even pause. “No TV before bed. She only has 30 minutes left of screen time anyway. No fruit after six. And don’t let her near the remote. She knows how to change the channel now and she keeps turning on Spanish soap operas and mimicking the crying.”

You clap once. “Iconic.”

Then comes The Silence. You glance up. Olga is no longer talking. She is staring.

You and Azulita both look up slowly, like maybe if you don’t move too fast she won’t attack. She’s standing there, binder to her chest, face pure exasperation. She looks like a woman who is desperately trying not to scream.

That’s when Alexia walks down the stairs. She looks stunning, hair done, blazer over a fitted shirt, matching slacks. If Olga looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown, Alexia looks like she wants the breakdown to happen so she can laugh at it.

“Everything alright?” Alexia asks, sauntering up behind the couch.

Olga doesn’t answer. She just continues to glare at the two of you. You start sweating. Azulita stops breathing. Valerie throws a block and says, “Taaa!”

Alexia leans forward, taps the back of both your heads like she’s knocking on a door. “Hey. Idiots. Pay attention.”

“Hey,” you say with offense. “I am a professional athlete.”

“You drooled on her sock ten minutes ago.”

You scowl.

Olga takes a deep breath. She sets the binder down with a finality that shakes you to your core. Then, she steps around the couch, stands over you, and says in a tone you’ve never heard before:

“Listen to me very closely. I am ten months postpartum. I have not left my baby alone for more than two hours since she was born. And tonight— tonight I am trusting you two, Dumb and freaking Dumber, to take care of the child I carried for nine months and pushed out of my vagina.”

You flinch. Azulita flinches. Valerie freezes mid-foot chew.

“You are all I have,” Olga says. “And if anything, and I mean anything, happens to my child, you will not be able to hide. I will find you. I will ruin you. You will wish for death. And then, after you wish for death, I will hit you with the binder.”

You nod. Azulita nods. You nod again. You can feel sweat sliding down your back. Your mouth is dry. Val blinks up at Olga and goes, “Ma?”

Then Olga brightens like none of that just happened. “Okay!” she chirps. “Love you girls.”

She kisses you on the forehead. Azulita too. Then Val.

Alexia’s dying. You can see it. She’s holding in laughter with her whole body. She kisses each of you like it’s a funeral, whispering “Good luck,” in your ear like you’re about to go to war. Then the door closes behind them.

You and Azulita just sit there in complete silence.

“…Did she say vagina?” Azulita whispers.

“Yup,” you reply, staring into the void. “She did.”

Valerie, unfazed, claps her hands and lets out a fart noise with her mouth.

You sigh. “Alright. Let’s not die tonight.”

Azulita picks up the bunny and nods solemnly. “For Val.”

You’re lying on the carpet, half-propped up by a pillow you stole from the couch, scrolling through the comments of the live chat with one hand while trying to pick a decent filter with the other. Azulita’s sitting cross-legged beside you, hair in a messy bun, hoodie halfway on, vibing hard as Lil Baby blasts in the background. You can’t lie, Valerie has taste. Kid’s been bouncing in her little baby bouncer for a solid ten minutes like she’s at a festival.

“She’s got rhythm,” Azulita notes, nodding with pride as Val bounces up and down on beat, plastic keys in one fist, sock in the other.

“She got it from me,” you say without missing a beat.

“She got it from her mother’s.”

“Semantics.”

The comments are coming in fast:

"Why are y'all babysitting?? Where is Olga??"

"Alexia left two teenagers with a baby I'm scared."

"IS THAT LIL BABY IN THE BACKGROUND."

"Please show Valerie dancing again I'm begging."

You ignore the comment asking to show Valerie, but take a peek at her, bouncing away like she’s been possessed by the spirit of the beat, drool flying, hair in her eyes, sock now hanging from her mouth like a cigar.

“She’s busy,” you narrate. “She’s got moves. Don’t worry about her.”

And then, mid-bounce, mid-glory, tragedy strikes. Her toy falls. There’s a two-second pause. You make the fatal mistake of thinking she’ll let it go. And then, WAILING.

“OH MY GOD,” you flinch so hard your phone nearly flies out of your hand. The chat immediately blows up.

“LMAOOOOO”

“HELP HER????”

“THE SCREAM??????”

Azulita launches up like she’s on a mission in a spy movie. “I GOT HER,” she shouts, diving for the bouncer.

You remain frozen on live like a deer in headlights, Val screaming bloody murder off camera while Azulita picks her up and starts doing the panicked baby rock. “Shhhh shhhh shhhh,” Azulita mutters. “We got the toy. It’s okay. Life is pain. Let it out.”

“Chat SOS,” you beg into the phone. “How do we get a baby to stop crying?”

"Did y'all feed her????"

"She hungry girl what time is it??"

"Why is Lil Baby still playing turn that OFF and give her a bottle."

"Y’all are literally the worst babysitters l've ever seen and I love it."

You glance at the clock. Your heart drops. “…It’s 6:30.”

Azulita gasps behind you. “FEED THE BABY.”

You end the live so fast. Phone down. Panic mode engaged. “Why didn’t you check the time?!” you shout, sprinting for the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you check the time?!” Azulita shouts back, still holding Valerie who is now actively trying to scream her way out of Azulita’s arms.

“I thought you were on top of it!”

“I’m on top of her! That’s enough!”

You yank the bottle out of the sterilizer and start pouring boiling water into it like your life depends on it. Which it might.

“Do you even know how to mix formula right?” Azulita accuses, hovering near your elbow like the world’s most chaotic nanny.

“Do you?” you shoot back. “I watched Olga do it once. That makes me basically qualified.”

“She was measuring things!”

“I measure with vibes.”

“That’s why I don’t trust you!”

You shake the bottle aggressively, cap it, and turn around to give it to Valerie, but Azulita steps back like you’re holding a weapon.

“Did you check the temperature?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

You glare. “She’s screaming!”

“She’ll scream harder if you give her lava.”

With the most dramatic eye roll in history, you tip the bottle and splash a few drops on your wrist. It’s fire. You scream like you’ve been shot in the arm.

Valerie goes completely silent. And then bursts into laughter. Like real, belly-deep baby giggles.

You stare at her in disbelief. “You enjoyed that?!”

“Iconic,” Azulita grins, rocking her gently. “She laughed at your pain. She’s one of us.”

You mumble something under your breath and start all over again, this time making sure the water is cooled, the formula is right, and no one ends up with second-degree burns. Finally, finally, you hand the bottle to Azulita and she slides it into Val’s tiny hands.

She drinks like she’s been stranded in a desert for days. Ten minutes later, she’s full, burped, and looking at you with those big, innocent eyes like she didn’t just try to rupture both your eardrums.

You and Azulita are collapsed on the couch in exhausted silence.

“…So, bath time?” you say weakly.

Azulita groans. “Binder says yes.”

You scoop up Val, who immediately tries to headbutt your chin, and take her to the bathroom. Setting her on the bath mat, you begin the struggle of undressing a baby who thinks everything is a game and nothing is real.

By the time she’s in the tub, the floor is a crime scene— clothes, toys, a lone sock, a giraffe for some reason.

Valerie, on the other hand, is having the time of her life.

She slaps the water like it insulted her. You are soaked within seconds. Azulita is trying to save her jeans. You’re trying to figure out how a rubber duck made its way into your hoodie.

“Why is she stronger in water?” you demand.

“She’s evolving,” Azulita whispers.

There are bubbles. There is chaos. You are playing with the little stacking cups and suddenly realize Valerie has abandoned her toys to splash the two of you mercilessly.

“She’s targeting us on purpose,” you say, blinking through water.

“She’s smart,” Azulita agrees, shielding her face with a frog toy.

Valerie grins. You’re both doomed. Soaked, exhausted, and humbled, you glance at the clock. It’s only 7:05.

You look at Azulita. “We follow the binder now.”

“Binder is law.”

Val slaps the water in approval. You salute and let the night continue.

Bedtime. It should be easy. That’s what you told yourself. You survived feeding. You survived bath time. You survived the Binder (capital B). Surely putting Valerie to bed is the victory lap. Spoiler: it’s not.

You’re standing in front of the dresser, holding a plain white onesie like it’s a gift from hell itself. “This is boring,” you declare. “She’s not a tax accountant. She’s a baby.”

“It’s soft,” Azulita argues, holding it up to your face. “Feel it. It’s got little clouds.”

“She deserves better.”

“She’s literally going to sleep.”

“She deserves better while she sleeps.”

And that’s how the two of you spend 12 full minutes rifling through her baby clothes like you’re styling her for New York Fashion Week. At one point Azulita tries to convince you to let her wear just a diaper and a cape “so she dreams she’s a superhero.” You tell her to shut up.

Eventually, you both gasp at the same time when you pull out a fuzzy cat onesie in Barcelona colors— dark blue and garnet, complete with little ears on the hood and a tail.

“Look at this masterpiece,” you whisper.

“She’s going to look like a tiny feline queen.” You high-five.

Valerie, for her part, squeals when you show her the onesie and kicks her feet. She knows style. You wrestle her into it with the grace of two people who clearly don’t know how baby limbs bend, and then immediately start a full-blown photo shoot like she’s Baby Beyoncé.

“You’re serving,” you tell her, snapping a photo.

“She is giving feline fashion excellence,” Azulita agrees, angling the light just right.

You post nothing because Olga would actually murder you if her baby ended up on your story without approval, but still, those pics are going in the archives. You send one to the youngsters group chat and Pina sends back seventeen heart emojis while Patri send an odd voice note of her making a cat sound.

Once the fashion show is over, you carry Val to her crib, carefully swaddled, looking like a sleepy little purring Culer. You sit down beside her and look at Azulita.

“Want to tell her a story?” you ask.

Azulita raises an eyebrow. “We don’t know any stories.”

“We make one up.”

“What kind?”

You think for a second. “The Three Little Pigs. But it’s us.”

She grins. “And the big bad wolf is Alexia.”

“Obviously.”

You lean over the crib dramatically, dropping your voice into a narrator tone. “Once upon a time, there were three little pigs. One was Estrella Pig— gorgeous, talented, the favorite.”

“Excuse me?” Azulita interrupts.

“Second was Azulita Pig—cranky, loud, and wore too much attitude.”

“You’re gonna catch hands.”

“And the third was Patri Pig, who was probably just chilling somewhere eating fruit.”

“Valid.”

“And then came the big bad wolf,” you growl, voice low. “ALEEEXIAAAA.”

Valerie is staring up at you both with eyes the size of dinner plates.

“She huffed!” Azulita says, getting into it. “And she puffed! And she told them to get up and go to training!”

“And the little pigs said NOOOO,” you wail dramatically.

Valerie blinks. You blink back. She blinks. Then she claps her hands.

You and Azulita beam. “She loved it!” you whisper.

“Maybe we should just read the Binder to her. It’s got chapters.”

You start flipping through the pages, trying to find the section on babies not sleeping, and find a line that says: If baby is struggling to fall asleep, try singing ‘Rock-a-bye Baby’ softly.

You and Azulita exchange a look. You try it.

“Rock-a-bye baaabyyy…”

“On the treeee tooooppp…”

Valerie screams like you just stepped on her dreams.

“ABORT,” Azulita yells, rocking the crib back and forth.

You panic and lift her out of the crib. “Okay okay okay! You hate lullabies! Noted!”

The three of you migrate to the couch like refugees of bedtime failure. You’re bouncing her gently. Azulita’s rubbing her back. Valerie is still sniffly and grumbling. You’re losing hope.

“Fuck it,” you mutter. “Alexa, play something.”

“Now playing: Not Like Us by Kendrick Lamar,” the Echo says.

You and Azulita freeze. But then… Valerie quiets. Like, completely. She blinks. Looks around and listens. Very intently.

You and Azulita exchange another look.

“Is this her song?” Azulita whispers.

“She’s unbothered. She’s vibing.”

By the second verse, her eyelids are drooping. Her grip on your hoodie loosens. By the third verse, she’s snuggled into your chest, breathing soft and even. You don’t dare move.

“Don’t move,” you whisper.

“I know,” Azulita says. “I think she booby trapped me with her foot.”

Eventually, you feel your eyes getting heavy too. The couch is warm. Valerie’s head is heavy on your shoulder. Azulita’s arm is pressed against yours. Kendrick is still going. You drift off.

When Alexia and Olga come home, it’s quiet. Too quiet for two teens and a baby in the house.

Alexia steps into the living room first, heels clicking softly. Her hand goes to her mouth when she sees the sight:

You, Azulita, and Valerie all passed out on the couch. The baby is still in her cat onesie, curled on your chest. Kendrick Lamar is playing Not Like Us on repeat.

Alexia is so amused. Olga comes in next, expecting disaster. When she sees you all asleep, her mouth opens.

“I don’t want to know,” she mutters.

Alexia shrugs. “They kept her alive. That’s all I asked for.”

Olga sighs, takes the fuzzy blanket off the back of the couch, and carefully drapes it over all three of you. She kisses Valerie’s forehead, then Azulita’s, then yours. Alexia does the same, grinning the whole time.

“Idiots,” Olga whispers fondly.

The lights are dimmed. The door to the hallway closes quietly.

And in the background, Kendrick keeps rapping softly into the night.

[ineed-to-sleep]

I don't think people should be treated like/talked about like they have no agency just because they're a product of their environment and upbringing, and might have a mental illness as well. If you look at it like that, then nobody has any agency ever over anything they do. They can't be held accountable for their actions, and nothing will ever get fixed or dealt with.

No matter their upbringing, an adult person is responsible for themselves and their own actions. They do choose to act, or to not act, a certain way. People like Trump choose not to change because they benefit directly from being terrible and harming others. Trump gets money and power from it, he has a legion of people backing him up; he's rewarded for it, so he's not going to change. And when it comes to doing "the right thing", I absolutely think that some people's idea of "the right thing" is actually "that I should have more privileges and a better life than other people because I'm better than them". Everyone does what they believe is right, yes, but some people have a really selfish idea of what's right.

Now, if I think we should even talk about someone we barely know possibly having a diagnosis or not- I mean, why would you? You know it's pointless, that you're not going to get a correct diagnosis, that it's not going to help that person, and it might even make people with a similar diagnosis feel more judged and self conscious. And you also know that no specific mental disorder will explain all of a person's asshole behaviour. So to me, it sounds like there's no point in it, and all it does is keep the idea in the public consciousness that mental illness = asshole behaviour.

It’s weird that we keep trying to armchair diagnose asshole behaviour with mental health labels and in doing so throw people with mental health conditions under the asshole bus when we could just call a guy an asshole and leave it at that

It just seems far more straightforward, you know

[tragedy-machine]

for @carebeardean for our dbda anniversary gift exchange! hope you like it <3

and a corresponding little 1.5k ficlet below

(mature rating warning)

“Do you reckon I’d look good in a skirt?”

Edwin pauses his reading, or more accurately freezes, too overwhelmed by dozens of images of Charles in different types of that garment flashing through his mind, effectively blocking the text in front of his eyes.

“Pardon?”

“It’s just–” Charles wrings his hands but takes a brave step towards Edwin where he sits on the couch anyway. “There was a couple in the park today. I don’t think you saw them, but they were tucked away between the trees, talking, and the– and the bloke’s hand was just casually resting on the bird’s upper thigh under her mini skirt and–”

“In public?” Edwin lets out an affronted scoff. “How utterly indecent this generation is.”

“Love, it’s not like we’re that much better,” Charles says and comes up the rest of the way to stand in front of Edwin.

“We do not–” shutting his mouth, Edwin thinks about it more and is forced to change his approach. “We are not visible to most of the population, making our chances of scandalizing someone that much smaller than the couple you mentioned.”

“Right." Charles chuckles, but his face is closed off and he’s not really looking at Edwin, eyes firmly planted on their carpet, posture not as relaxed as it was before. With a little sigh through his nose, he makes to move away, apparently deciding to swallow his disappointment at the fact that the conversation is already over. Edwin lurches to stop Charles and it just so happens that Charles’ legs are at his eye-level, so it’s only natural that Edwin’s hands grab him by the back of his thighs to keep him in place.

The feel of his boyfriend's legs, as well as the sight of Edwin's hands leaving dents in where they’re anchored are arresting enough that Edwin would be happy to just stay dreamily gazing upon it forever, if not for the little squeak ringing above him.

Lured in, Edwin follows the noise to Charles’ mouth, where the boy's lower lips is trapped between his teeth. Focusing on his goal of reassuring Charles, Edwin decides not to look at it too much lest he loses his train of thoughts completely. Their eyes meet and Charles stares at him with two pools of molten heat and suddenly Edwin doesn’t think that that’s much better for the state of his brain. But he pauses his newly-blooming images of kissing up the length of Charles' body with a thought of later.

“I am positive that you would look ravishing in any skirt of your choosing.”

Just as Edwin's hoped for, Charles’ breath hitches. Without even really thinking about it, Edwin’s grip on Charles’ legs tightens, as if wanting to capture the intoxicating feeling that sound gives him.

He’s familiar with this particular area of Charles, having left marks on those thighs many times before, but he still finds himself reverently kneading the muscles and marveling at the part where their give softens.

“Am I to presume,” Edwin thinks back to what prompted Charles to even ask his question in the first place. “That you would prefer skirts of the… shorter variety?”

“Yeah,” Thick like honey, Charles’ agreement rumbles out of him in a low voice. So beautifully strong and boyish just like the rest of him. Imagining all of it nicely wrapped in a flimsy little girly garment sends a thrill down Edwin’s spine. “Ones that’d come up to– um, right about where your hands are.”

“My. That is awfully short indeed.” Not being able to resist the temptation, Edwin moves his hands just a little bit higher and watches a shiver run through Charles’ body. "It would barely cover you up. Would you be wearing anything underneath?”

There’s an infinitesimal jolt to Charles’ hips. Edwin wouldn’t even notice it if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s tantalizingly close to that particular body part. Charles must see something in Edwin’s face that gives away that he’s noticed the movement, because he lets out a half-bitten whine, his eyes fluttering but refusing to close and break their eye contact.

“I don’t– I don’t know. Maybe.”

Edwin can tell that he has the boy close to squirming so he lightens his caresses to a hopefully maddening tease. A suggestion of a touch. What's the fun in giving in right away?

“I would have to wait and see for myself?” Edwin suggests.

“Probably not really wait, but yeah. I’d want you to–” Charles’ hands land on Edwin’s shoulders for support, the twitching of his hips evidently harder to control now that he starts pressing into Edwin’s hands. “To touch me.”

Somewhere on the couch lies Edwin’s book, completely forgotten, but he doesn’t even care about trying not to damage it as he pulls Charles forward so that he’s forced to plant his knees on both sides of Edwin. Now, Charles is essentially straddling him, but not quite, still not sitting down on Edwin’s lap, because that’d make it impossible for Edwin to keep up the steady movement of his hands up and down Charles' thighs after all. Plus, it’s not like Edwin minds the distance between them, having Charles hovering above him is a beautiful view.

“I suppose it is a unique advantage to have you clothed and yet… so accessible to touch as well.” Abandoning all decorum, Edwin starts stroking his hands up and down Charles’ trousers-clad legs. If he could see Charles, if he was bare, Edwin’s sure he’d be able to observe goosebumps rising on Charles’ skin.

“Yeah and if–” Charles kneads his hands where they’re clutching onto Edwin’s shoulders, seemingly steeling himself for what he’s about to say next. “If I did this–” he carefully drops himself on Edwin’s lap, clearly making a deliberate show out of it. Presses every possible inch of his body right into Edwin and slides down, causing sparks to shoot up Edwin’s core. Once Charles is fully seated on Edwin, he gives a tentative roll of his hips that snaps Edwin’s attention down, right where Charles wants it. “You could fuck me with the skirt still on.”

Although he was the one who started it, Edwin can’t take the teasing anymore, so he dives forward to catch Charles’ lips and devour him with a kiss.

It’s a perfect expression of just how much both of them like the idea of Charles in a skirt. Charles spells his love and trust with his tongue, not giving Edwin a chance to do anything but hold on and let himself be pressed into the backrest of the couch. Electricity zaps through the air, both of them forgetting about technique and finesse and both of them adoring it. Because why focus on anything else than Charles moaning right into Edwin’s mouth and tugging at his blazer like he wants to rip it off?

The sharp cut of Charles’ jawline, his big and capable hands, the way the short hair at the back of his neck feels under Edwin’s fingers - it all represents everything that the world tried to convince Edwin he shouldn’t want. But it all makes the picture of the gorgeous boy writhing in his lap while sucking on Edwin’s bottom lip and Edwin would rather die again than ever be denied this.

He loves the way Charles is always gentle with him, but manhandles him when they both get too riled up. Loves his long and lithe limbs wrapped around him, reminding him of how tall Charles is. Loves the fresh yet slightly musky scent of Charles that Edwin swears still lingers on the boy’s skin.

But there’s also no other word than ‘love’ to describe the feeling when Charles lets Edwin hoist him up on their desk or how bright Charles smiles when Edwin buys him flowers or how soft and breathy his whines turn when Edwin does something particularly right during kissing.

“I thought you wouldn’t be into skirts and you know, girly things?” It’s not really a question, but Charles’ tone ends it as such.

“I am not,” Edwin says and caresses the side of Charles’ darling face, so open and vulnerable under Edwin’s palm. “It is the thought of you in something like that which I find myself so enamored by. Everything about you could never be anything less than lovely and completely devastating to my heart.”

It gets him a frantic kiss that Edwin plans to lose himself in, before Charles leans away again.

“You don’t think it’d be weird? That it’d look– off on me?”

Edwin almost laughs at the notion.

“What a preposterous thought. Of course you will look endlessly beautiful in a skirt, my beloved.” A low groan rips itself from Charles’ throat and his shining eyes have never looked this pleading, this desperate. Edwin suspects he knows what they’re asking for. “My pretty girl.”

[babysfirsthaze]

need gross perverted caitlyn so bad.........

Untitled (Caitlyn Kiramman x Reader)

Synopsis: uhhh gross Cait I've been promising since January, or something. Sorry. Doing my best out here. CAITLYN KIRRAMAN IS TRANS TO ME, SHE HAS A PENIS. She violates you but it's hot I swearrrr.

Content: f! reader, cnc, spitting, lots of spit, brief fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, nutting inside, sex referred to as rape, heavy degradation, praise (because she's dignified like that), hand holding, cnc again, the cnc is very heavy, seriously dead dove do not EAT, she starts off mean and gets nicer when she starts fuckin you, aftercare kinda, the aftercare is pathetic, you shld really get a better wife...its rape the kink is rape don't read it if you don't like that. not proofread

A/n: SORRY I PROMISED THIS AGES AGO AND IT'S ONLY COME OUT NOW I KNOW I KNOW I'M SORRY. I started writing this back in February and then shit got hectic and I got cheated on and just ohh my god I couldn't. But it's done now I hope it was everything yg dreamed of,,, gross Cait nation ily please don't have died on me :(

Caitlyn has missed you. She’s been out all day, getting work done, getting, frankly, incredibly pissed off. You’re all she can think about as she addresses a meeting full of idiots, as she stomps around and barks orders. Your soft body, the way you smile at her, the way you looked so cute this morning, when she got up and left the house before you woke up. You’re all she’s thinking about as she stuffs her key in the door, pushing it open roughly with her shoulder so she can see you. When she finally does you look up from your book, startled. You weren’t expecting her home quite this early. She doesn't look happy, and you slowly put your tea down on the coffee table, before sitting up against the couch. “Hi, Caitie. How was work?” 

“Shut up,” she grunts, stomping her way over to you. Then before you know what's happening she's got her weight on you, and you grunt, feeling yourself pushed back against the couch. Ah. Alright. This is what we're doing. 

“Missed you so much,” Cait all but slurs, grabbing at your shirt, long, slender fingers clumsily trying to pull it off. “Gonna rape you, okay? Gonna rape this pretty fuckin pussy.” And then she pauses, slightly, you can feel it; a nod from you, yes, Catie, you can rape me, and she's grabbing at you like it's the last chance she'll ever get. Her mouth latches onto your neck, it's less a kiss and more like she's trying to eat you alive. “Fuckin whore. Missed you so much, fuck, baby– gonna hurt you so bad.” You groan in response, squirming slightly where you've been unceremoniously slammed into the couch. She licks a stripe up your neck, and begins to pull off your clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor by the couch. She smells like sweat and the last notes of your perfume, her hands are rough, her breath heavy, her muscles twitching and shaking. 

“Stupid fucking– mm,” she's too overwhelmed to insult you, so instead she just grabs your face, kissing you wet, heavy, slow. You're pretty sure you feel her spit in your mouth. One of her hands tangles in your hair, grabs a fistfull of it, and the other moves down your body, grabbing, groping, exploring. 

She pulls roughly at your hips, trying to tug you closer to her. “Come here.” She kisses you, again, licking her tongue into your mouth, everything feels vaguely sticky and wet. You pant, trying your best to process everything that's happening. “Fuck, Caitie– slow down,” “What don't you understand about shut up?” she spits, literally, leaning up over you and spitting on your chest. She gathers the saliva with the pad of her thumb and brings it down to your nipple, circling around the sensitive skin and watching as the temperature change makes it perk up. The stimulation sends tingles down your stomach and you bite your lip to suppress a whine. She groans, a sadistic sort of grin on her face, and kisses you again, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses on your face. She can taste the sweat and the makeup on your skin, it makes her dizzy. She is so, unbearably hard, and you look so good under her. 

You whine, and she pinches your nipple. “‘S gross, baby,” you're pouting, and right hand on the bible, Cait feels her heart stutter. “You don't like it?” She spits on you again, just so see that pout, saliva landing right under your eye. “Take my fuckin dick out, baby. Stop complainin. I know you like it, fuck– yeah, that's it, good girl, good baby…” The metal of her jean buttons is cool against your fingers, and you can feel warm saliva rolling down your cheekbone, to your hairline, as you pull her trousers off, palming her through her panties. She is indeed, very hard. You can feel the warm wet of her precum leaking through the fabric, and she lets out a long, low moan, pressing her face into your shoulder. And she bites, making you gasp, the sting deep in your muscle. 

“Oh you fucking bitch, what a good girl. Hmm? Does that- ohh, fuck, fuck. Let me- shit, baby. C’mere.” 

The first thing you register is her cold, harsh hands on your thighs, pressing them apart. You can feel her wedding ring on one finger, the metal digging into your warm skin, and she scoots up to get a good look at your pussy, wet and waiting for her. “Good girl,” she croons, dribbling more spit onto the sensitive skin. She presses a thumb to your clit, harsh, making you gasp and arch your back. She grins. “You gonna take it, sweetheart?” She works her length out of her pants, circling her thumb around your clit as she gets them off, a little awkwardly. You nod, and she begins to work her middle finger into your entrance, jerking off her tip in time, groaning under her breath. Her slender digits stretch you out deliciously, curling into your soft walls and making you mewl, her technique practiced and precise- she knows her girl, knows what gets you off, what makes your eyes go fuzzy and your pussy go nice and loose. She mutters something about fucking slut you don’t quite catch, and then grabs at your thighs to rest them around her hips. 

Cait presses her tip against your entrance, azure eyes half-lidded and filled with lust. “Fuck, I missed you,” she mumbles, eyes locked on your love like she’s talking right to your pussy, but her left hand dips down to entwine her fingers with yours. She squeezes, hard. And then with a groan she presses the head of her cock into your pussy, your warmth squeezing her so wonderfully tight, and she can’t help but press her weight further, burying her length in you, eyes closed in complete serenity and bliss. 

You on the other hand, are struggling. 

“Caitie- Cait,” you whine, trying to reason with her, squeezing her cool hand in your own. Her girth always stretches you out, you’d think after years with the woman it’d get easier. But no, the stretch still stings, and she still goes so deep you can feel it in your tummy, poking at your insides. She responds by rutting into you, forcing you to just take it, you both know you can. “You’re fine,” Caitlyn says almost soothingly, still pressing on your clit, she’s trying really hard not to just fuck you senseless right now. She’ll wait. And eventually you do relax, the pain subsiding to a pleasant full feeling. Immediately she’s taking the opportunity, pulling her hips back and snapping them forward again, cock bullying your newly accustomed walls, earning a lewd squelch. “Tha’s it,” She groans, beginning to fuck you properly, her weight pressing yours into the couch, sticky, hot skin smothering you. The sensation fills your tummy with warmth and you moan loudly, back arching to take her dick better. 

Cait growls into your skin, thrusting her hips hard, as if trying to get out all her frustration on you in a single round. Your walls squeeze her so good and she can hardly think straight, her head spinning, the only thoughts in her mind about pounding you, raping you, emptying her load so deep in your pussy a part of her becomes embedded in you forever and she never has to let you go. Hot, overwhelming pleasure fills your body, blooming from between your thighs all the way up to the back of your throat. “Baby- mmf, fuck,” you mewl, squeezing her waist with your thighs, which earns you a harsh slap because it slows her down and she can’t have that. Almost as an apology she shifts to kiss you, licking into your mouth, encouraging your tongue to push into hers so she can suck on it. 

The feeling is mind-numbing, and you whimper into her mouth, unable to do anything but take it, take her mouth, her dick, her treatment. She fucks at a relentless pace already, bullying your pussy and giving your clit enough attention to make you cry. The smell of sweat and sex fills the living room, your book layed neglected on a couch cushion, and the only thing you can hear is Cait groaning, muttering into your skin, and the steady plap, plap, plap sound of nasty sex. You can barely get a word in and when you do, she swallows it up greedily like it’s the only thing she's been craving. She fucks you like it’s the last chance she’ll get, like she’s been waiting, waiting to fuck you like this since the first time this morning some idiot made her jaw clench. 

“Fuck, baby, such a good whore…love this pussy, sh’takes me so well, huh? Yeah, yeah…” Cait trails off somewhat breathlessly, burying her dick so deep it makes your eyes prick up and all you can do is gasp uselessly against her lips, overwhelmed by sensations and already feeling your tummy start to clench as your orgasm approaches. Your eyes flutter, and she hisses as your left hand finds her back, raking harsh, red lines into her pale skin. She doesn’t let up, doesn’t change pace. Just pants and growls into your ear, hitting that spot so deep inside you over, and over, and over, making that knot so impossibly tight you think you might cry. 

Suddenly she changes the way she touches you, going from slow circles around your clit to fast, hard side-to-side motions. “Ah-..!” You squeal, nails digging further into her back, the unforgiving pace of it all making you writhe, making your body feel like it’s on fire. “Fuck, fuck, right there, fuck, Caittttcaitcaitcaitcait!” You babble, thighs shaking and pussy squeezing so tight around her. She groans your name with an almost predatory look in her eyes, moaning loudly when your release does come. She works you through it relentlessly, keeping up her bruising thrusts, working your clit till you stop shaking, till you moans becomes whines and then squeaks. At that point she shifts her weight, leaning over your body and pressing herself completely against you. She ruts into you, chasing her own release, teeth bared and drooling onto your shoulder, her fingers gripping onto your thigh and gripping it so hard it hurts. 

“Take it, take it, take it, take it,” she repeats like a mantra, rutting into you every time she says the words. You can feel her dick twitch, pulse against your walls- and then with a heavy groan she cums, shaky hips pressed flush against yours. Even through your hazy mind you’re lucid enough to appreciate the way it fills you up, a warm, gooey feeling you can’t get anywhere else, from anyone else. She stays pressed up against you for a few seconds while you both catch your breath, before pulling out gingerly. 

“Good girl,” she hums, pressing kisses up your shoulder to your neck, your cheeks, your mouth. She laps up any drool that wound up on your chin, hands running appreciatively over your twitchy body. “Took me so well. Such a pretty girl, hm?” One more kiss, “Sorry I spat on you.” 

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: Age Gap, violence against healthcare workers, violence against violent patients, implied PTSD, threatening murder, crying, bad flirting, this is choppy af, please forgive me

Summary: After an attack by a patient retruning back to work does not go exactly as planned.

A/N: Listennnn people, I am so sorry that this took so long and this chapter is just to continue to build tension, I think I will conclude this with chapters 6 and 7, though I am not sure. I feel like the end would be more natural if I wrote another chapter during which they confess and maybe in the last chapter there is fluff and smut idk, but I still hope you enjoy this :) Also this is very, very, very losely inspired by ‚Shelter from the storm‘ by Bob Dylan

She wasn‘t sure what had shifted between them after that night, after death upon death coming their way something had changed. The tension that had been there before had not dissipated, it had begun to grow, though now there was more to it, more to the way his gaze lingered on her, more to the way she would seek him out in a crowded room. Then there was also the granola bar, she couldn’t eat one on her own now, always saving half for him, slipping it into his hand at a quiet moment.

He checked in on her more than before, it seemed that he hovered more, but he simply checked on how she was doing. Giving her more opportunities to try out something, quietly encouraging her. A warm hand on her back here, a gentle touch against her arm there.

It became a constant during her shifts, knowing that he wasn‘t far away at any given time, that he would be right next to her within the blink of an eye. For some reason it eased her mind, made her relax a little. The way she had always been a bit panicky during the shifts was now gone. Maybe because the lingering fear of him pushing her away again had finally started to dissipate.

On this particular evening shift change had gone smoothly. Standing at the nurses’ station she checked a few patient files, making sure that she knew what she was heading into. There was nothing too dramatic, though one name sounded familiar, yet she really couldn’t place it. Humming softly she looked around, most of the day shift had already left, only a few of the nurses and Dr. Robby was still lingering around. Sometimes she really wondered if Dr. Robby ever truly left this ED or if his body simply shifted to another place but his mind stayed here. Shaking her head, she checked the board one last time then started to head off towards one of the rooms she had been assigned to tonight, nothing world changing, but it was simple enough.

The tune still stuck in her head, humming softly as she started walking away, though before she was able to completely leave central a loud screech pulled her out of her thoughts. Whipping around she saw a large, burly man shove Princess to the ground, though he was not looming over the woman. His eyes snapped up, in her direction and he started stalking towards her, his gate stiff, like he was hell bent on bringing pain. Swallowing harshly she was frozen in place, fear curling up her neck as she stared at the man, she wanted to run, but then there was recognition. The guy that had cut this hand, the guy that she and Tommy had treated as their first patient together. He was only a few feet away from her now.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he hollered, taking another few steps towards her, practically looming over her now. His hands shot up, one to her throat, the other to her scrubs, his fist bunched in the black fabric while the other hand wrapped itself around her neck, squeezing hard. “YOU FUCKING SLUT, YOU THINK YOU ARE BETTER THAN ME! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!”

Cold sweat ran down her back as she stared at him, getting light headed, panic seeping through her. Around her people were shouting, but his grip did not relent, though it felt like the grip around her scrubs had loosened slightly. Within a split second her brian made a decision, hoping that Gloria would not have her head for that. Grabbing his wrists she thrust her hip forward, pulling her knee up in the same motion. The grip on her throat and scrubs was completely gone the moment her knee connected with his groin, a howl of pain escaped the man. He took half a step back, her brain yelling at her, the fight or flight instincts kicking in the moment she had free range of motion she swung at the man, fist balled up tightly. It connected with his nose, a sickening crack echoed through the room, followed by a groan, two steps and thud, with the thud came another sickening cracking sound, his head hitting the ground. Staring at the crumpled form of the man on the ground her ears were ringing, everything around her spun like a mary go round, her own heart beat seemingly the only thing she could hear.

Her name was being called by someone, her first name, it cracked through the moment of shock like the sun breaking through thick clouds after a storm.

Looking up she saw him standing there, his eyes filled with concern, his mouth was moving, though she didn’t hear a single word, it was like someone had wrapped her in bubble wrap. Then her name fell again, two warm hands wrapping around her face.

“Hey,” his voice was gentle, gentler than it should be at that moment, she had just hit a patient, “Are you okay?” his brows were furrowed, his thumbs resting on her cheekbones.

“What?” she breathed out. Hot tears began to gather in her eyes, pain bloomed on her neck, and her hand. Glancing at her hand she could see blood, though she was not sure if it was her own or the guy’s blood. It was swollen, but not too much, it might just be a bruise. A wince of pain escaped her as she moved her neck. The spinning didn’t stop and a strange kind of nausea settled in her stomach. Trying to turn her head to look at the man on the ground Jack’s grip on her face tightened.

“Don’t look there,” his voice was gentle, he held her face in his hands, making her look at him. Shuddering breaths escaped her as she felt herself shaking.

“I think I need to sit down,” she whispered softly. He nodded, carefully his hands let go of her face, one of them went right between her shoulder blades, the other one rested on her shoulder, he slowly guided her towards one of the chairs by the nurses’ station. With so much care he navigated her to sit down, crouching down in front of her taking her uninjured hand in his.

“Alright, listen,” he gently tapped her hand, then her thigh, making sure that she was listening to him, “I am going to put you in line for an x-ray and a CT for now, just to make sure that nothing is broken or damaged,” he was still speaking in that soft tone, the kind of tone most people reserved for scared children or frightened animals. For a split second his eyes drifted towards her slightly swollen hand. She nodded, trying to only focus on the soft hazel colour that had bewitched her from the moment she had first seen them, “While you wait for an x-ray we are going to ice your hand, okay?”

She nodded, as he got up from the ground and was about to leave, she held on tighter to his hand, fear of being alone trickling through her mind. He stopped in his tracks, turning his head towards her and tilting it to the side in question. The shaking had only gotten worse and she felt like that if he left she would break down completely.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, feeling the tears running down her cheeks. The panic that wrapped itself around her mind, the panic that had kept her going was beginning to dissipate completely. The gravity of the situation only hitting her now, she had been strangled, he had threatened to kill her. Still she would consider herself lucky if Gloria didn’t take off her head for that, an intern assaulting a patient even in self defense.

“Alright,” he stopped in his tracks, looked around and called over Mateo, telling the nurse to get an ice pack. Her hand went to her throat, the heat coming off of it in the shape of a hand, the nausea buried itself deeper.

“I treated him,” she whispered softly, trying to give an explanation for what had happened, but couldn’t find anything, “I didn’t do anything wrong,” This time it was more wretched as she spoke, the tears now running uncontrollably. It started with a single sob until she was practically unravelled, sobs and hot tears, quiet whimpers escaped her. Clinging to Jack’s hand like a lifeline while everything around her felt cold and empty, the warmth in her hand a strange sense of comfort.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” coming out in quiet whispers or louder croaks while she cried. Seeing Jack move panic set in, he couldn’t leave, though he simply shifted, standing up from the kneeling position, carefully he bent down and pulled her into an awkward hug, the angle the fact that snot was running down her face and that her hands were uncontrollably shaking didn’t make it any less awkward, though his arms around her shoulders, the warmth of him, it was all so comforting in a strange manner.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you did everything right.” his voice was soft as he held her, “You did so well,” his hand was now in her hair. “You did so well,”

—————

Her hand had not been broken, simple bruising, just like her throat, though Gloria still put her on leave for almost two weeks, not chewing her up. The hospital board insisted that she should press charges. Though she was not too sure about it, not too sure that it was a good idea to do that.

It felt like she was climbing the walls of the apartment. Tommy kept her well informed about the gossip at work, though she knew that he probably left out the juiciest, hottest bet running at the moment. Still she felt like an animal, trapped in a too small cage.

The place felt cramped during the day and during the night, she barely slept, the melatonin gummies that usually knocked her out like a light didn’t work properly at the moment. While Tommy was at work and Masie slept she was left alone with her thoughts, with the feeling of Jack’s hand in her hair, the way his lips had brushed her forehead when he had pulled away from the hug the moment Mateo told him that she was next in line for the x-ray. She still wasn‘t sure how long he had held her in that awkward position. The panic setting in during the middle of the night, the feeling of the hand wrapped around her neck shooting back to the forefront of her mind, it felt like someone was torturing her.

Coping with it was hard so she baked and cooked. She was not sure how much she had made in the last two weeks, probably enough to feed all of Pittsburgh, they now had enough food in the freezer to get them through the next month or so and all of their neighbours as well as the day and night shift at the Pitt had gotten trays upon trays of her baked goods over the course of the last two weeks.

Tommy and Masie had both tried to talk to her about what had happened, but she did not want to talk about it. She really did not, even if it was Jack that asked her to talk about it she probably wouldn’t though it appeared that he had understood it rather well when he had comforted her.

Laying in bed she listened to Tommy and Masie talking in the living room, their voices loud enough for her to hear, they thought that she was sleeping, it made sense, she should probably be sleeping, but it eluded her like it had for the past few nights.

“Are you serious?” Masie sounded mildly scandalised as they were talking. She had closed her eyes, maybe it was to hear them better, maybe it was because she actually wanted to sleep.

“Yeah, I mean, he seems really worried about her. Always asks how she is doing when we do something together.” she heard Tommy sigh. “And listen Mase, I get that you have your girl’s code or whatever, but can you finally tell me what you know?”

“I told you a million times before, Tommy, I don’t know anything,” Masie sounded annoyed as she spoke.

She knew that it was a lie. Masie knew everything, she had been the first person she had told about her encounter with Jack at the hospital, she had been one of the people in her friend group encouraging her to talk to him. Masie knew almost every little detail about the night they had spent together and the feelings of betrayal connected to the whole situation, but also the longing and that deep feeling of connection she had never felt before. Masie knew about everything regarding Jack Abbot, to Masie he would always be the hot older guy she had met at the bar. The guy that had managed to get her more attached to him than anyone else had ever managed over years of trying.

“Please! I just want to know why they knew each other, I knew from the moment they first interacted that they knew each other, but come on! It’s just a little bit of information, what harm could it do?” Tommy sounded so desperate that for a brief moment she wondered how much money he had bet. Probably something in the mid two digit range.

“You know that you are talking to someone that works in protection of data privacy for a living right?” Masie sounded so deadpan that she almost had to laugh. For some reason listening to the conversation was slowly lulling her to sleep, the last thing she heard before completely drifting off to sleep was the quiet giggling coming from Maise, Tommy was probably tickling her.

The ghost of hands in her hair was a comfort she clung to, wishing for the warmth of the blankets to be the warmth of his body.

——————

Being back at work was not how she had imagined it to be, it was strange in the best way. People were excited to see her again, telling her that they loved all the baked goods she had sent to the hospital via Tommy. People asked her how she was doing, telling her that they were glad that she was back.

Yet the halls of the hospital felt strangely hollow, they felt haunted by the memory of those eyes filled with rage haunting her every step. The sound of threats being shouted seemingly choking her just like the feeling of a hand around her neck.

Standing at the nurses’ station she glanced up at the screen, arms crossed over her chest as she tapped her foot against the tiled floor. No one seemed to notice the nervous tick, even if they did, they probably decided to not mention it. She hadn’t seen Jack yet, it made her uneasy, made her want to rip out her hair.

“A word,” a warm hand between her shoulder blades, the rough and familiar voice of Abbot right beside her, still she flinched. Slowly he guided her away from the nurses’ station, she simply followed his lead, he maneuvered them into the staff lounge, closing the doors behind them, with the soft click of the door shutting she felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“You are on edge,” was the first thing he said to her, not ‘It’s good to see you again’ or ‘Nice that you are back’, no it was this. Though it felt right coming from him. There was no harshness to it, no judgement, just a simple observation. Even maybe some worry laced in his tone.

“Yeah, how couldn’t I be?” her voice was tight as she spoke. She was excited to be back at work, of course she was, she was happy to be back. The feeling of being caged was finally gone, but that panic having taken residence at the back of her head seemed to take its place.

“Of course, but you don’t need to be,” again there was this strange tone to his voice, it wasn’t judgement, it wasn’t worry, but it also wasn’t quite fondness though she would describe it as something close to that. He had moved across the room so that he was leaning against the counter.

“I know,” she nodded, the tension in the air crackled for a moment, it was like there was a rope being pulled tighter and tighter, the single strands slowly beginning to pop. “I just need to get used to it again,” she spoke softly, turning her head to the side just slightly. Turning her head back as she heard a sharp exhale.

“I know, they haven’t gone away just yet,” she whispered, gently touching her neck. The handprint on her neck was still visible, still there, it was faint, but people would still be able to see it.

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” his tone was tight now as well, like he was contemplating saying something, “You need to know something,” he paused, his hands clamping down on the counter. “I wanted to apologize to you,” That knocked all the air out of her lungs, his eyes were gentler now.

“For something you had no control over?” she tilted her head, he shouldn’t be sorry for what happened. He had no control over that, he had no idea that the man was even there.

“No, for being an old, stubborn man,” a tint of humour coloured his tone, this time it didn’t feel like someone had knocked all the air out of her lungs, it felt like he had just thrown a brick at her. An old, stubborn man, something she had called him jokingly on the night they met, calling him that when he told her that he didn’t let people in easily.

Suddenly his pager went off, a groan escaped her. He pushed away from the counter as he passed her a playful glint in his eyes.

“And thank you for the brownies,” he paused, “Just the way I like them,” with which he left the staff lounge.

A small smile on her lips as she remembered thinking that he would enjoy them greatly while she made them, a soft flutter settling in her stomach, numbing the panic slightly.

———————

Tags: @antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06