#still don’t know if people tag when responding to messages

[littlebirdy0301]

If you want to be safe from The Emails, do not become a youth theatre stage manager

[ladybyakuya]

| I WISH YOU ROSES + KAIJU NUMBER 8.

+cw. —f!reader, smut headcanon + scenarios format, sort of exs to lovers, mature content, angst and hurt, comfort, alcohol consumption, established relationship

+syn.— making amends after the fight. who apologizes first? does it always end up with sex? or is he sleeping on the couch tonight?

+wc. —1.5k

+notes. — wanted it to be super smutty but ended up with angst instead. enjoy and scream in tags if you like it| redirect to blog navigation.

→ [ ICHIKAWA RENO ]

reno would stare at the screen of his mobile phone opening your message box yet not send a single text to you. he is a little stubborn. in the spur of the moment, he said, “maybe we had nothing, to begin with in the first place.” those were some heavy words. he won't disagree. even liquor isn't enough to drown his feelings about you. why do people drink to forget their love anyway? it's stupid. it's so stupid. he locks his phone and then buries his head in his hands murmuring, “god why can't I just call her?" the rusty fizzy flavor is threatening his throat again. his phone starts to vibrate and rings a little later making him jump a bit but his reflexes were quick enough not to get you a first full ring. “hello? babe? is that you?”

“just call her man.” Iharu drawls from the other side and disconnects the call even though he sits opposite him. Reno looks at him ungodly pissed until the prior speaks up, “don’t waste your anger on me, dude.” Reno’s phone rings again.

“you’re doing this on purpose, aren't you picking on me?” Reno tartly responds holding his phone towards him so sure about that Iharu is doing it again but that dimwit is so drunk that he has to lean forward, squint his eyes at the screen.

“no dudee. It's your girl—” Reno picks up the phone but he doesn't speak.

“are you at a bar right now? i just finished my work.”

“yes, I’m. can I go pick you up?”

“of’course you can but I got a cab. bye. text me the address.”

When you reach at the bar you could easily spot him. He is sitting at the corner in a secluded area. Ofcourse he is. Then, there is Iharu practically drooling on the table.

“why are you here?”

“what do you mean why I'm here? You texted the address.”

“yes but aren't you angry? At me?”

“yes but I know better than to take you seriously when you are that angry. ” he looks away from your face. “we can talk about it if you are still upset.” he shoots you a lazy smile and gets up.

“what about him?”

“what about who?” reno asks with pinched eyebrows.

Iharu’s snores are quite loud by now. You look at Reno holding your hand out. He doesn't protest. He gives you his phone and says his passcode. He gets you. His words are not drawly but rather slower than usual. At first, you intend to call Kafka but both of them being a pain in the ass you texted his vice-captain.

The can ride from bar to home was silent. Reno was laying his head down on your shoulder, eyes closed but a little fidgeting was there every now and then. As soon as you reach your apartment complex he got out, even leant against the wall while being on the elevator. He's sulking. It's adorable sometimes. When you reach your shared apartment he doesn't come in stands outside until you ask him to.

“i’m sorry.” reno says loud enough to kick out the drowsiness out of his body. “i'm sorry, babe.”

“well, it was partly my fault too but —” you grab his collar and pull him towards yourself. his defense system is useless against you. “but I'm going to make it memorable.” you say unbuckling his pants. As soon as his trousers hit the floor Reno closes the door with a kick while you go to your knees. “perhaps we should fight more,”

With his member in your hand you look up at him and then blink. once. twice. thrice. And then get up and walk inside your room. A few seconds of silence and then Reno is walking on your trail left by you apologizing for a few more times until you just shut him up with the most sloppiest toe curling blow job.

→ [ GEN NARUMI ]

“do not walk away from me. I'm not done talking yet.” Narumi's voice is perfectly flat devoid any splotch of anger or even frustration. he is leaning against the door as you move from kitchen counter to the dinning table carrying the dishes, then cooked meals and a water bottle. his eyes are going back and forth waiting for you to say something, anything or just yell at him. he can handle your blood and tears, not this silent treatment.

“well, don't treat me like I'm one of your missions and we are good.” you exclaim with a low voice while waving a hand as if you were talking to yourself but actually you just wanted to beckon him for dinner.

“i don't us to be just good. I want us to be better, to be comfortable in each other's presence, even in thoughts. . .” and now he is going to lecture you, like one of his subordinates. there is an agonizingly awful silence filling the room as you wait for him to continue but he is just there, standing, still silent.

you turn your chair to spare a look at him. his stance is still the same, lazy and nonchalant. he isn't mocking you or your love for him. he genuinely cares for you.

“i mean it.” he starts walking towards you in faster pace than usual. “and you know that.” he stands in front of you looking like a kicked puppy. the moment you leave your seat he is going to pounce on you like a wounded animal. this has happened before and last time it hurt a lot. so you don't get up instead just turn around to eat.

He grabs your wrist before you can even touch the food. “I said we’re not done talking.” he almost yells. seeing you flinch he sighs deeply before he gets on his knees and rests his head on your lap. “we submit are phones after turning it off. that's why I didn't know— that you were coming early from work. we work in different departments so we have different rules too. you can ask around. they'll tell you.”

“why didn't you say that earlier? was the whole fight really necessary?” you said with utter frustration laced underneath your voice.

“shouldn’t i at least get the benefit of doubt?” he looks at you placing his chin on your thighs.

you stroke his hair and he closes his eyes. “yes but — umm— never mind.” you say running your thumb over his lips. he graces a glance at you before running his hands on your back tracing up to your shoulders, he is crouching now and then pull away your top. now you're naked and sitting on a chair as he is standing. he throws the top away and sits on his knees again. hooking his arms around your calf muscles he licks in between your legs. “this is payback.” he whispers. your panty is still on and all Narumi is doing is licking slowly over the cloth, sometimes barely touching but if this is the payback you don't mind it at all, unlike last time.

→ [ HOSHINA SOSHIRO ]

Hoshina is the one who gives you the silent treatment even if he is at fault. He doesn't want his anger to harm you in any way, be it due to you or due to himself. He is not much of an angry person to begin with but somehow he just loses it for you. Maybe that's his protective instinct for you or the fear of melting the cocoon he created for his own protection. Either way, it's frustrating. It's frustrating enough that he keeps telling you how you should not put yourself in danger to protect him in a field mission yet you keep disobeying him at every mission. Either you are mocking him or trying to take his position which by the way both are wrong given the fact that you are his subordinate. He sat on one of the benches in the training room. he is too frustrated to concentrate on training.

“you know, you can let your anger out right? on me?”

Hoshina looks at you, pupils ever so still like a moonlight pond on a windless night. That's exactly what he doesn't want. don't you get that? you're wearing your night dress not your suit, which means you were either waiting for him or going to bed.

“i'm not mad at you.” he sighs. “not even myself. just at the situation in general. i know it's your instinct to protect people but sometimes . . .” he trails off looking at his fisted hand. he unfists his hand again.

“i can take it all, you know?. be it your love or anger. . .” Hoshina looks at you keeping his bottle aside. he swallows before leaving his place and dragging you inside the training room, the door still not closed.

“are you sure about that my love?” he graces his hands in between your thighs while whispering. you give him a nod. “let's see how long you last.” as his hand rubs against your entrance his mouth starts to suckle over your nipples as his other hand pins both of your hands above your head. the night suddenly feels long and breezy.

[pippin-katz]

Jayden, George & Cameos

Alright, maybe this is me being presumptuous, but I feel like I need to say something. I’m going to offer my two cents about the cameo situation.

I did not buy a cameo when George did it, but upon asking someone who did, they costed £40. The price of the joint cameo is evidently £80.

Is that too high of a price?

If you thought £40 for George’s cameo was fine, then you have to say “no”.

George by himself was £40. If Jayden made his own by himself, it would probably also be £40. Therefore, if you add them together, you get £80.

People need to understand that while they might have fun with the cameos, they are still working. Recording videos like that is exhausting, and if you don’t think so, you’ve clearly never done it. I have recorded reaction videos and after thoughts and stories for years, and I still get exhausted if I have to do a multiple part story, or do it over and over until I’m satisfied.

Now, I know a lot of people are peeved more about the phrasing of these joint cameos as a “gift for the fans” when the price might be out of budget for a lot of people.

But if you are throwing a tantrum over it, you need to sit the fuck down, and check your damn privilege.

It is a gift.

They don’t have to do this. They literally don’t. They don’t have to interact with us. They don’t have to post anything. They owe you nothing.

Instead, they have taken the time out of their days, their schedules, whatever they might be busy with, or even if they’re relaxing, and they’ve decided to record video messages for you.

Not to mention, do you even understand what they are putting themselves in risk of emotionally or mentally?

The very first thing that came to a LOT of people’s minds when this was announced was: “I hope no one asks them to kiss because we’ll never get Payneland.”

If you didn’t think that, congratulations! You have apparently been fortunate enough not to encounter what real Internet behavior is like. Or maybe you’re new to a fandom space, and this is your first time! Great!

You might be thinking: “No one would actually do that; at least not in this fandom!”

But the truth of the matter is that there are many people who would and probably WILL do that.

The anonymous nature of the Internet has enable millions, and I mean millions, of people to act on and voice their most disgusting and disturbing thoughts. The content or person does not always reflect on the people who digest or interact with it. There are monsters everywhere; they are in every space whether you encounter them or not.

By being online all of us open ourselves up to the risk of people attacking us or exposing us to things we do not enjoy or want. For people of any level of fame, it’s multiplied tenfold.

George and Jayden can turn off direct messages, block people, mute tags, and whatnot, so they can avoid most attempts to reach them. By offering these cameos, they are giving a direct route for people to type whatever the hell they want into their message, and whether they like it or not, they’ll probably be reading it.

This is an open invitation for those awful people to request anything, to say anything, to ask anything, even if they report it and don’t respond, they’ll likely see it.

Invasive questions about their sexualities, their relationships, their personal lives. Disgusting thirst messages. Disturbing requests asking for specific things to act as a replacement or substitute for what we would’ve liked to see in the show.

Anything and everything you can think of is possibly something they will encounter, and they’re willing to take that risk to give you something special. To talk directly to you, even if it’s only for a minute.

It’s become increasingly clear, to me at least, that Jayden is a sensitive soul. Not in a “can’t take a joke” way, or in any condescending way. He’s just kind. He’s kind in a way that is taken advantage of in online spaces. He’s also young. A lot of this is still new to him.

He apologizes like it’s his fault if his stream chat gets some bad people in it. He was talking about how he wanted to continue playing Detroit: Become Human really badly, but felt like we would be upset if he didn’t stream his entire play-through. He asked for a list of names of people who support him on Twitch, their usernames and actual names, because he wanted to keep track of them.

Jayden was really excited about the joint cameos. He looked so thrilled to talk about it, and was looking forward to hanging out with George, and doing this for fans.

When fans turned around and yelled about prices, it probably crushed him! Instead of reciprocated excitement, he got bitterness and hate. And for something that he might not even have control over, mind you.

It feels like he can never do enough to make fans happy.

It’s not his fault the show was canceled, but he probably feels just as bad about it as we all do! It’s disappointing! It’s upsetting! And he wanted to do it! But he can’t, and that has to feel frustrating as someone passionate about what they do.

It’s not his fault some fans are toxic or judgmental of every interaction he has with his community. It’s not his fault that people spread hate.

But it probably feels like he can at least put a stop to it by not continuing to do any of it. If he just stops streaming, no toxic chats. If he stops talking to fans, no people complaining about favoritism.

I don’t blame him for wanting to walk away entirely.

To wrap this up, if you have anything disrespectful to say about the boys or this situation, do us all a favor and keep your damn mouth shut.

I expected better from this fandom than behaving like entitled children. We’ve gained thousands of signatures, rallied together to buy a billboard for this show, but we can’t maintain a supportive space for the actors? How do you expect us to succeed in saving this show if we can’t even do that?

To make a long story short (too late), fans, do fucking better.

[hidden-ember]

simon says

🗯 pairing: captain john price x fem!reader | simon ghost riley x fem!reader

🗯 tags: nsfw - mdni, cucking, oral sex, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected pinv, established relationship, praise, ooc as fuck i'm sure

a/n: this one was incredibly self indulgent, so i got a little carried away with it. i fully intend to do a pt. 2 if you all want that!

You couldn’t believe the situation you found yourself in: your husband of several years just confessed to you he had always had a fantasy of watching you with another man. You expressed that you weren’t opposed to the idea; as long as it was something he truly wanted then you’d do your best to please him. 

When he threw out some names of people you may be interested in he never expected to see a spark of desire in your eyes as he mentioned his former boss.

“Oh really?” Ghost asked with a raise of his eyebrow, his tone laced with amusement. 

“Y-yeah,” you said shyly, not wanting to go into detail about how attractive you found Captain Price. 

The older man led Simon in a specialized task force for a few years, both having since moved on to different military ventures and then retirement. 

Price had always caught your eye at any get-together he and the rest of Ghost’s former team would attend, and you had never imagined revealing this attraction to your husband. Until now. 

Any time he would tower over you while making small talk, cerulean eyes subtly trailing down to your lips and chest before meeting your gaze you had to fight to keep your face from flushing. 

Your dreams the nights after these gatherings would be filled with visions of the Captain buried between your legs, his facial hair prickling your skin as he worked you with his mouth until your legs were trembling. 

Ghost cleared his throat, sensing you were deep in thought. “I’ll text him now?”

Once you gave him the go ahead he reached for his phone. His fingers trembled slightly as he tapped out a message, inviting Price over Friday evening for some ‘fun’. 

He tossed his phone down and leaned in close, his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “I’m going to enjoy watching you with him.” 

“I hope so, Simon, because I wouldn’t be doing this otherwise,” you responded, pulling back to look at him. You wanted him to know even though you were indulging him in this fantasy, you would never imagine being unfaithful to him without his knowledge and without him being involved.

Ghost met your gaze, his eyes filled with appreciation and desire for you. “I know, love.” 

You left it at that, both carrying on with the rest of your week without mentioning it again until shortly before Price’s arrival.

“You’re still okay with this, yeah?” Ghost wrapped his arms around you from behind as you did your makeup in the mirror. 

“More than okay,” you reassured him as he tugged at your earlobe with his teeth. 

“Easy now,” he chuckled, a hint of warning in his tone. 

That was the best thing about this arrangement. You had always been attracted to Price and were eager to explore that, but you were most looking forward to what came after.

You knew that once he watched Price fuck you, Ghost would be ravenous. You had a long night ahead of him proving to you that while he may allow another man to touch you, they’d never be able to touch you better than he could. 

“I don’t know what to wear.” Your face grew hot as you began wondering what Price would think when he saw you again. 

“Anything,” Ghost replied firmly. “You look great in anything.”

“Well I have that dress from-,” you paused when he began shaking his head. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he murmured against your neck, trailing soft kisses down it as his hands settled on your stomach. “You’ll be waiting for us in the bedroom, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you whispered, realization dawning on you that he was suggesting you wear lingerie. 

"Hmmm. Price seems like the type to enjoy white." You thought out loud, a lace baby doll you had in your dresser coming to mind. "Something about corrupting a good girl."

“S’that what you are?” Ghost smirked while making eye contact with you in the mirror. 

You laughed away his teasing, knowing he was only attempting to get you riled up. “Oh, please. If anyone’s corrupted me it’s you, but let me have my fun.”

"That's perfect," he agreed, his eyes roaming over the reflection of your body, envisioning the delicate white lace. "He's going to love seeing you like that." He leaned in close and whispered into your ear, his voice low and husky, “And so will I.”

His stiffening cock was now pressing firmly into the small of your back and you grinned at him in the mirror. “I can see you’re very excited about this.”

Ghost's eyes darted downward before meeting yours again, a mix of embarrassment and desire flushing his cheeks. "Not every day my wife offers up herself and her body for another man," he confessed with a shrug that did little to hide his arousal.

“Don’t be embarrassed, love.” You squeezed his hands reassuringly. “It’s hot you’re so into this.”

"Thank you," Ghost whispered as he wrapped his arms around you tighter. "I just want to make sure everything is perfect for Price tonight. He deserves it."

“Yeah? Deserves to fuck your wife?” You teased, knowing it would only make the hardness poking into your back ache even more. 

Ghost chuckled darkly at your words. "Yeah, he does," he growled while pressing his hips forward slightly into you with a noticeable amount of possession in his movement. "And I plan to enjoy every filthy second of it."

You spun around to face him, and he immediately stepped forward, pushing you into the edge of the vanity. Ghost groaned as he felt your hands slip beneath his shirt to stroke his stomach, a thick layer of fat having formed over his abs since retirement that drove you crazy in all the right ways. 

"Don't tease me like that," he warned when your fingers moved higher up his chest.

"Fine,” you conceded with a soft sigh, sliding out from under his shirt. “I’ll keep my hands to myself until he arrives.”

"That’s a good girl," he praised, loving how aroused you were getting. He pulled back slightly but kept his hands on your waist. "Now, why don't you get dressed and wait for us on the bed, hmm?”

As you moved to put on the white lace number and matching silk thong you knew both men would adore you in, Ghost left for the living room, leaving your bedroom door slightly ajar. You bit down on your lip nervously when you heard the doorbell buzz not even a few minutes later. 

Ghost’s heart raced with anticipation as he approached the front door and saw Price’s silhouette against the dim street light shining through the glass. He knew you were waiting for them in the bedroom, dressed in the lingerie that he had helped pick out and he had to make an effort to appear nonchalant as he opened the door for Price.

You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart rate quickening as you heard the Captain’s commanding voice fill your home. Their conversation was muffled, but the distinct sound of ice and alcohol being poured made you smirk to yourself.

The pair catching up over a drink like former colleagues while you were waiting in the bedroom like a piece of meat to be devoured only added to your arousal, the wetness gathering between your legs becoming more prominent the longer they left you alone. Ghost seemed to be carrying most of the conversation for once, probably out of sheer excitement.  

Price appeared to be enjoying himself as well, laughing at something Ghost said before they made their way to the bedroom together.

As they entered the room your eyes darted between your husband and his friend, unsure who to look at. The click of the door closing echoed through your mind as you pictured what was about to happen. 

Ghost took a step towards you, his eyes fixed on your body as he admired the sexy lingerie that clung to your curves. He couldn't help but feel a surge of possessiveness as he turned to look at Price, who was now standing close behind him.

He swallowed hard, the bob of his Adam's apple betraying his nervousness, before stepping to the side and sitting in the armchair at the corner of your room.

Price looked you up and down slowly, taking in every inch of your exposed body. His eyes lingered on your full breasts before traveling back up to meet yours. 

"You look bloody incredible, Mrs. Riley," he smirked, knowing it would drive Ghost mad to hear you being referred to with his last name. You were his after all and Price would do well to remember that. You glanced at Simon briefly, surprised to see his face beaming with pride rather than annoyance as he watched Price approach you. 

“Thank you, John,” you blushed, having to crane your neck to look at him the closer he got to the bed. The lamp in the corner illuminated his face as he stood before you and you noticed even more gray hair dusting his temples and beard than the last time you saw him. 

He wasted no time before kneeling down, his calloused hands running up and down your thighs lightly before stopping at your knees. You were sure your face was completely bright red now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

“Oh, sweet thing,” Price let out a breath as he spread your legs. “You’re soaked already.”

He placed a kiss to your core through your panties, holding eye contact with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. Ghost sat up a little straighter in his seat at the sight.

The silk fabric clung to your folds now, saturated with your arousal. You felt yourself throbbing now, cunt desperate for attention. Many nights you had dreamed of being in this exact position, his handsome face staring up at you from between your legs.

Disappointment must have been evident on your face as Price pulled back and shifted on his feet, moving to lean over you. Your pouting drew a raspy chuckle out of your husband.

“Needy girl you have, Simon,” Price observed with a small smile, turning to look at him. He gave a single nod in response, eager for Price to continue.

With gentle hands he brushed your hair behind your shoulders as his gaze roamed your chest, his hum of satisfaction reverberating through the room. He unfastened the clasp on the front of the baby doll, letting it fall off of you and onto the bed. 

Your nipples hardened as the cool air hit your skin. Price’s hands found their way to your breasts immediately, beginning to roll his thumbs over your nipples in tight circles. He studied your face closely as it contorted in pleasure, admired the way your breath caught in your throat audibly at the sensation. 

“You know, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck you,” Price whispered into your ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps on your skin. His lips brushed against your earlobe and your eyes widened, finding Ghost’s. He watched you with a hunger and possessiveness you had never seen from him before, clearly having heard what the other man said to you. 

You gasped in surprise when Price’s lips latched onto your nipple, too distracted by Simon to realize he had wandered lower once more. You moaned softly as his tongue circled the hardened bud, back arching as he squeezed your other breast roughly. 

Ghost watched attentively from his corner seat, a mix of arousal and pride coursing through him. He could tell by the way that you were responding that Price was taking good care of you, making sure you were enjoying every moment. 

Price’s mouth left your tit and he captured your lips in a kiss. It felt strange at first but you softened, losing yourself to the feeling of him. The kiss deepend as Price’s tongue slid past your lips, tasting you for the first time. His hands wandered down your body, teasingly grazing the hem of your panties before finally slipping beneath to run along your slick folds.

“All this for me, hm?” Price murmured against your lips.

“Y-yes,” you stuttered. A half truth. It was for him, yes. But it was just as much for Simon, who was now palming himself through his jeans.

Seeing how excited you were already, he didn’t hesitate to part your folds, circling your entrance once before pumping two fingers inside of you. You let out an exasperated gasp and squirmed as he did.

“Oh, c’mon, angel. I know you can take it.” He winked at you before continuing. “This is nothing compared to your husband’s cock,” he said playfully before curling his fingers inside of you, thrusting faster now.

"That's a good girl," he praised you as he felt your relax around his fingers, rewarding you by pressing circles into your swollen clit in a steady rhythm with his thumb.   

Ghost could tell by the sounds you were making that you were getting close already, the thought only serving to fuel his arousal. His chest tightened as he watched Price work you open. You faintly made out the sound of a zipper as your senses started to be overloaded, vision blurry and ears ringing.

“Fuck, John. I’m close,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his free one to steady yourself as your climax rapidly approached. His muscles tensed under your grip; he was every bit as strong as you had imagined. 

Price tutted at you, shaking his head. “Ask your husband for permission, dear.”

“Simon,” you pleaded. “Simon, please, I-” your breath was coming in ragged gasps, leaving you incapable of forming a full sentence.

“Let go, love,” you heard him from the corner of the room. The way his voice strained told you that he was stroking his cock as he listened to you begging for release. Begging him despite another man being the one to drive you to orgasm.

Price grabbed you by the chin, angling it upwards and pressing his lips to yours, stifling your cries of pleasure as you came undone. As if he could keep your release all to himself like this, swallowing it down so Ghost couldn’t have it.

Ghost watched intently as Price took control of the situation, his body tense with anticipation for what was about to happen. He could feel his own climax building inside him, mirroring your pleasure as he listened to your cries of ecstasy being muffled by the other man’s kiss.

As Price continued to milk your orgasm, he leaned down and whispered into your ear, this time low enough that Ghost couldn’t hear, “You were never quite this pretty all the times I’ve imagined you coming.” 

He pulled away slowly, leaving you panting and covered in sweat. His eyes met Ghost’s once more before he finally released you from his grasp. You sat at the edge of the bed, legs trembling as you tried to catch your breath. He pulled your panties off, eyes glued to your glistening cunt.

“Lie back for me, sweetheart,” John ordered as he moved for his zipper, desperate to free his throbbing cock. You did as he said, gaze locked on his crotch as he tugged down his pants and boxers. 

As his cock sprang free, you hated the way you instantly noticed it wasn’t as big as Ghost’s. It wasn’t small by any means, maybe even a bit longer, but not as thick. You had gotten so used to feeling stuffed full by Ghost that now a part of you was anxious to have another man for the first time in years. What if you were spoiled? What if your husband had ruined you for all other cocks?

You glanced in his direction, noting the small smirk tugging at his lips and you knew he was aware of exactly what was on your mind. Smug bastard, you thought to yourself before returning your attention to Price, opening your legs wider for him.

Ghost’s expression remained impassive as he watched Price line himself up and penetrate you. His hand twitched unconsciously, the urge to reach out and claim what was rightfully his burning within him. But he held back, remaining silent and still, his hand freezing on his cock.

You moaned as Price buried himself to the hilt, having quickly forgotten any anxiety you were feeling a moment before. He let you adjust to his length before pulling out completely and slamming his hips forward, causing you to yelp. Ghost began pumping himself again as he saw how rough his friend was with you, how well you were taking him. 

“Fuck,” he hissed as he pounded into you. “Good fuckin’ girl.” 

His arms fell to either side of your head as he leaned in to nibble at your neck. From this angle his gut pushed into your stomach - the only distinction between the sensation of his and your husband’s was John’s more pronounced happy trail. 

He reached down between the two of you and began roughly rubbing at your sensitive clit again. His tempo didn't falter and he was hitting your g-spot with each stroke, white-hot pleasure clouding your mind and turning you into a mumbling mess beneath him.

“Yeah? Like that?” Price cooed at you and your toes curled. He kept up his pace, relentlessly pummeling you.

“Yes. God, yes,” you whined. The sounds of skin on skin and moaning filled the room from all three of you now. 

Your walls contracted around Price and your back arched, pressing your bodies flush together as you surrendered yourself to him completely.

“Come for me,” he encouraged with a hint of ownership. Not of you, but of this orgasm. The last one may have been for Ghost, but this one would be for him. 

He thrust into you more deliberately now, bottoming out each time. You let out a strangled moan as you climaxed again. Ghost came with you, spurting into his hand as he squeezed his cock tightly, his own sounds of pleasure drowned out by yours.

You whimpered as John suddenly pulled out of you and moved to stand at the edge of the bed. “C’mere,” he croaked, quickly sitting you up and bringing your head down towards his cock.

“You didn’t think I’d let anyone else finish inside that pretty little pussy of yours, did you?” Ghost murmured from the corner, voice hoarse as he was spent from his own release.

You shifted your gaze to Simon before parting your lips for Price. “Mm, see how you taste on another man’s cock?” He taunted as you wrapped your mouth around the head.

Though your eyes stayed glued to Ghost’s, you attempted a nod in response. Tears pricked your eyes as you slowly took more of his shaft into your mouth. 

“Simon says you’re good with your mouth. I intend to take full advantage of that,” he said, grunting as he pushed himself deep into your throat, your eyes returning to him.

As you moaned around his cock he smirked down at you. "Oh, you like it rough, do you?" He quickly lost control, hips meeting your face as he thrust in rhythm with your mouth.

You had mixture of saliva and pre-cum running down your chin now, mascara staining your cheeks. Ghost had you in a similar state countless times before while fucking your face, but seeing you like this wrapped around someone else's cock was turning him on in an entirely new way.

In an attempt to prolong his release, Price tangled his fingers into your hair, holding you in place at the base of his cock. When you gagged he loosened his grip, allowing you to back off a bit before you started bobbing your head on his length again. "That feels incredible," he said, admiring the way you milked his cock.

His balls were already tight, and you pushed him over the edge once you began to caress them with feather-light touches. He threw his head back with a low groan, frame tensing as he shot thick ropes of cum down your throat. His hips jerked forward as you hollowed out your cheeks. You swallowed most of his spend and pulled off of his cock with a satisfied moan.

He brushed the hair away from your face, his chest heaving as he looked down at you. His thumb trailed over your bottom lip, collecting the bit of cum that had dribbled out. He held it there for you, waiting for you to clean it off. You took it into your mouth, taking your time cleaning him, savoring the taste as you swirling your tongue around his finger. He pulled it out with a loud pop once he caught his breath.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, referring to your performance just as much as your disheveled appearance.

“That she is,” Ghost said, rising from his seat, looking at you with a predatory gaze. He tucked his still semi-hard cock into his pants and your stomach tightened at the sight.

Price zipped himself up as well and turned to Ghost. You were surprised he wouldn’t be staying, but it was clear the two men had discussed all the details beforehand. 

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t want anyone here for the depraved things I’m gonna do to you,” Ghost threatened in a low tone that had you clenching around nothing. Price let out a hearty laugh before turning back to you.

“Thank you for being so good for me,” he murmured and cupped your face in his hands. When Ghost cleared his throat behind him, he corrected himself with a sheepish grin. “Good for us.”

He gave you a genuine smile and a soft kiss on the forehead before leaving for the front door with Ghost. They exchanged goodbyes and the last you heard from Price as you walked to the doorway was, “Don’t be a stranger now, Simon.”

Shortly after you heard the door swing shut your husband was on you. “Alright, back to bed with you,” Simon grinned, smacking your ass playfully. You giggled, walking backwards, eyes never leaving him as he stripped. 

“You’re mine,” he reminded you with a growl before his lips crashed into yours, the two of you falling onto the bed.

[f1byjessie]

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.

love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part seven.

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yourusername had to take these pictures myself bc apparently angles are “too hard”

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landonorris maybe you should’ve just asked me 🙄

↳ yourusername as much as i love your results you turn what should be a quick 5 mins into a 20 min photoshoot

↳ landonorris yes and?? i’m not seeing what the downside is 🤨

user HOW MANY LETTERS IN SARGEANT???

user literally who needs boys when girls like y/n exist

↳ user REAL

logansargeant i know about angles

↳ yourusername yes logie and your future girlfriends will thank me for it 🫶

user that dress is stunning and i want it but i know it costs more than a month’s worth of my pay 🥲🥲🥲

user ferrari spotted = y/n for ferrari 2024

↳ user get that girl in a formula car and leT HER DRIVE

oscarpiastri in my defense your heels make you as tall as me 🫤

↳ yourusername methinks it’s just bc you only know how to take one type of picture and it’s the awkward dad kind 🫤

user OSCAR??? HAS OUR HUSBAND RETURNED FROM THE WAR???

↳ user mama y papa

user OP81 IS BACK IN THESE COMMENTS WAR IS OVER

With Oscar by your side, time passes quickly. You don’t bring up that the first night you shared a bed, you’d woken up in the morning with his arm wrapped around your waist and his breath tickling the back of your neck, and you certainly don’t mention that he’d practically whined in his sleep when you’d slipped out of his grasp. It doesn’t happen again, but there’s a part of you hoping that it does.

The days blend together into a haze of happiness, laughter, and exploring the beauty of Monaco. Lando shows you the best spots— a garden just off the Monte Carlo marina, a famous nightclub that takes your breath away, and a small cafe at the edge of the city that overlooks it all.

Things are good, great even, but you can’t help but feel like there’s still some distance between you and Oscar despite his reassurance that everything is fine.

When New Year’s Eve— and subsequently your birthday— arrives, you’re awoken to a flurry of texts. Your parents have both sent sweet messages wishing you the best, Sophia has left a voice message with sounds of traffic in the background telling you she’s planning to get wasted and if you do too then you can just pretend you’re wasted together, and Dalton has made a group chat with you and Logan and has spammed you both with pictures of yourselves from across the years.

Oscar’s already gone, and his side of the bed is cold, so you take your time responding to them all and then shoot off a message of your own to Logan before getting up. It’s your first time not celebrating with your brother, and it feels strange knowing that you won’t get to see him today, but you’re excited nonetheless for the plans Lando and the other drivers in Monaco have organized for New Year’s Eve.

The day passes by lazily. Lando and Oscar both greet you with birthday wishes when you make your way down to the living room and then they present to you a feast for breakfast, which you realize is the reason Oscar was awake so much earlier than you. It’s the best breakfast you’ve ever had, mostly because they make fools of themselves retelling how many times they had to scrap the failed waffles until they got it right. You spend lunch at a place close by, joined by Alex and Lily who have flown in for the New Year, and then the rest of the afternoon you wait around at Lando’s place passing the time watching the boys play games on the TV and helping either of them cheat when asked.

You’re happy.

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tagged: yourusername

logansargeant people say twins are like built-in best friends, and if that’s the case then i’m glad i got you as mine. i can’t imagine having anyone else stick by my side throughout all the crazy and wild shit we’ve been through in our lives. it feels like just yesterday we were 13 and acting as each other's lifelines in a place we barely knew, and now we’re 23 and somehow doing the same thing. you’re my best friend forever.

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yourusername love you to the moon and back again logie 🫶 (but omg these pictures are so OLD)

↳ logansargeant love you to the stars and beyond 🫶 (yea well when else am i gonna post them?)

user i thought the only reason i’d be crying today is bc i don’t have a nye kiss but here we are aND THE BABY HANDS OMG

user I CAN’T DO THIS 😭😭😭

user sobbing over a birthday post was not on my 2023 bingo but i’ll be sure to add it to 2024 if this is gonna be a yearly thing

↳ user birthdays are a yearly thing so yea 💀

user i can’t stop thinking about the fact that each other was all they had when logan pursued racing in europe and now logan’s made it to f1 and they’re still all they have 😭

↳ user the sargeant twins are genuinely gonna be the death of me one of these days

user Y/N HAS BEEN THERE FOR HIM SINCE THE BEGINNING OMG

williamsracing Happiest of birthdays to Y/N! We look forward to seeing you out on the paddock more in 2024, and can’t wait to see what the new year has in store for you! 💙

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yourusername 23 + 23 = 46. 4 + 6 = 10. 10 - 2 = 8 and that’s what we’ve done for the last 23 years 😎 but real talk, i’m genuinely so honored to get to be your sister, and to share so much with you. when you win i share that joy, and when you lose i share that grief, and even though we’re an ocean away, i’m with you today and always for the rest of our lives. you’re my best friend, and even if i don’t have anything or anyone else, i know i have you and that makes me the luckiest girl in the world ❤️.

view all 934 comments

user ATE ATE ATE

logansargeant went through all the stages of grief as i read that caption

↳ yourusername i do try

↳ logansargeant i know

user HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARGEANT TWINS

user these pictures of logan are SENDING ME

↳ user y/n always feeds the ppl the low qual pics

alex_albon adding these to my folder of embarrassing pictures to blackmail logan with

↳ yourusername happy doing business with you sir 🤝

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user my mental health is dependent on the friendship between y/n and logan and it is STRUGGLING today lads

user can’t wait to see more of them in 2024!!

Lando finds you as you’re getting ready, putting the final touches on your makeup. He enters when you tell him to, and then leans against the bathroom counter for a moment just staring at you before you quirk an eyebrow at him.

“How are things going between you and Oscar?”

You lower the mascara wand and shrug, “I mean, it’s good.”

“But?” He prompts.

“But I feel like he’s still… being weird?” You slip the wand back into the mascara tube and then tuck it back into your bag. “I don’t know. Maybe we were a bit too realistic with the whole ‘making him jealous’ thing, and now he believes you’ve stuck your claim and he’s distancing himself because he doesn’t want to step on your toes or something.”

Lando snorts, “As if. I made him share a room with you, how does that in any way imply that I’m trying to stake my claim on you?”

You run a hand through your hair because you can’t run it down your face without ruining your freshly done makeup, and heave a sigh. “Then maybe he just isn’t actually interested in me at all, and I was right about him wanting to pretend the kiss never happened.”

He hums, then nods once, twice, a third time, and finally leaves the bathroom without another word.

When you finally follow him down, a number of people have already arrived— Alex and Lily are among them, and you greet them again with smiles and hugs. You’re introduced to Max Fewtrell, one of Lando’s close friends, and then you’re dragged away by Lily to hang out in the corner of the living room as the house begins to fill with current and former drivers alike.

“It’s a sausage fest,” she jokes, and you laugh beside her.

You both make conversation for a while, catching up on her and Alex’s holiday spent in California with her family and then talking about your own in Florida with yours. She asks how Logan’s doing, and you tell her that he’s well, but he’s really motivated and wants the chance to prove himself in the 2024 season already.

“I think the online discourse about whether or not he deserved a seat got to him a bit,” you admit. “But I know he can show them that there’s a reason he was chosen.”

Lily nods. “Me and Alex have faith in him too. It was his rookie year and he was in a Williams of all things. Like you said, there was a reason he was chosen, he just needs the opportunity to show the world that.”

You jump from topic to topic for a little while longer, until you excuse yourself to go find where Lando and Oscar have run off to. The guests have all arrived from the looks of it, and while a number of them all know each other already and have split off into groups to stay entertained, you’re not sure exactly how you’re meant to handle things on your own when it isn’t even your house—

“I mean, it’s fine, yeah? It’s just awkward with her, I guess.” You pause. The door to you and Oscar’s shared room is ajar and Oscar’s voice is just barely audible over the sound of music and chatter filtering up from downstairs.

“Why d’you say that? It’s just Y/N.” Lando’s voice follows.

You press yourself up against the wall, heart pounding in your chest at the sound of your name. You can’t see anything, and that almost makes it worse— imagining what their faces look like as they talk about you.

“Just that it’s weird sleeping next to her, and I feel like I’m always having to walk on glass around her. I’m trying to make things normal again, but I don’t think I can. I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep being friends with her. How can I look her in the face, knowing what happened?”

You can physically feel the dread settle into your stomach. Your heart clenches painfully in your chest and it’s like your blood has turned to ice in your veins. Your face feels warm, but the rest of your body feels cold, and suddenly it’s as though your ribcage has become too small for your lungs.

As quietly as you can, you scurry away from the door, across the distance of the hallway, and then down the stairs. Instead of turning into the living room where everyone else has gathered, their laughter and conversations a jumbled bubble of noise that makes your chest feel even tighter, you leave through the front door just as you feel tears begin to fall.

It’s worrying how frequently this has become an occurrence for you— crying because of Oscar.

━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel

━━ a/n: ahhhh i'm sorry i cannot let them be happy!! also, wrote this really fast and struggled a bit because i genuinely couldn't decide if it was just too fast paced or not, so i apologize if it seems rushed or if there are any mistakes editing wise that i missed!

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part five

authors notes: hi! you guys are so freaking awesome and sweet and like gawww, so grateful for such kind words and support!

so i realized that i used the wwe names for jimmy, jey, naomi, etc. that was my bad. i'll be using their real names moving forward for the sake of flow and consistency.

also keep forgetting to state that current timeline is 2023. like, this chapter is fall 2023. everything, so far, post breakup for joe and reader has been 2023. i plan to follow that timeline, so make of that what you will.

i hope this chapter isn't too boring to people!

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 5.7k

tags: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

“So, are we just going to continue to ignore each other?”

You’re not sure how, but you sense his presence long before he even says anything. And instantly, your mood is dampened, not that you were in the best spirits to begin with. You didn’t get much sleep the night before, for reasons you cannot fathom. But, it’s annoying as hell, especially when you have an ex turned fuck buddy who can’t seem to get a fucking clue ready to confront you outside of your daughter's preschool.

Sighing heavily, you pull out your phone to play around with your lock screen, because you really don’t have anyone you need to message in this moment. But, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not now, Amir.”

“Because you’re so busy?”

“Because I don’t care.” One thing you’ve learned about yourself over the years is that once you’re annoyed with someone, there’s no filter on your mouth and you cannot be held liable for what comes out of it. “Now, please, go away.”

He just looks at you, sun shining down on his waves and chocolate complexion. It’s unfortunate outside of his looks that he’s an overall trash partner. Decent friend. Shitty boyfriend. “You always do that shit, you know? Pull and then push. It was kinda cute when we were kids. Now, it’s just annoying.”

You were standing outside of Callie’s preschool, waiting for the kids to be dismissed, waiting for your little girl to come running out with a smile on her face, request on the tip of her tongue. It’s usually something small like wanting to show you what she learned in school. Lately, it’s been the same.

Can I call Joe?

A part of you feels bad for the amount of calls he probably gets in one day just from Callie alone. She took your offer for her to call him whenever he was available to another degree, not that he minded. He took as many as he could, listening to her talk and talk about whatever happened to be on her mind in that moment. And you let her.

What kind of mother would you be if you stopped her from talking to her dad? Even if she doesn’t know that’s who he is. 

It’s been almost two weeks since he left, and she clearly misses him. You often overhear her asking about when he’s coming again. You also receive those questions. It’s something you and him discuss via text but haven’t landed on a date yet. 

Communicating with Joe is also something that’s still an adjustment. It’s not as difficult or uncomfortable, because it’s almost entirely about Callie, but still. 

“If that’s the case, why do you bother?” You manage a less insensitive tone, even if you know good and well you’ve never led this man on. Amir has always heard and believed what he wanted to believe. That was the problem. He never listened to you.

“Because I fucking care about your annoying ass, duh.”

His delivery, the tone, and cadence. You laugh. It’s probably inappropriate at the moment, but it does bring a smile to his face as well. “Softie.”

He moves closer to you, arms crossed. “I’m serious, Y/N. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you.” 

Leaning against your car, you respond as calmly as you can, “and you know I’ve always made it clear I’m not looking for anything more. We had our time, Amir. It didn’t work out. Now we just help each other get off. I don’t know why you keep trying to make it more than what it is.”

“A date. One date,” he implores. A waste of time, because your answer is no. It’s been no and will continue to be no. “You haven’t even given ‘adult’ us a chance.”

There’s a headache in your near future, one that’s reminiscent of past ones only Amir seems to induce. It’s interesting how he went from indifferent asshole to clingy asshole. You almost miss the earlier version.

Chocolate was supposed to be good for the soul, so why was he so draining to yours?

“Amir…..” You try to pick your words carefully and be mindful of your tone. “This is getting real old. I think we need to stop messing around, because we’re clearly not on the same page.” The next part is something you probably shouldn’t share, but you call yourself trying to be open and clear. “Calista’s dad is back, and we’re trying to navigate coparenting, so—” 

“What?” He stops you, shock written over his handsome face. “Are you serious? You’re letting that motherfucker back in ya’ll life?”

This time, it’s his tone that jumps, accusatory and harsh. You immediately grow defensive. “You don’t know him.”

“God, why do you defend him like this? Is it that Stockholm Syndrome shit? He left you. He left you and his kid. What kind of man does that? And you’re just letting him back in? Just gonna jump back on his dick? Letting him around Callie? She’s old enough now to remember when he decides to leave again. I don’t get how you don’t see that. You her mama. You supposed to look out for her.”

And now, you’re done trying to be nice, trying to be mindful that he’s still another human being with feelings. Because one thing you never have and never will tolerate is someone insinuating you’re not looking out for your daughter. You’re not perfect, but you know that you’re a devoted, dutiful mother. 

“It’s obvious comprehension isn’t your strong suit, which I should have known based off the fact that I always had to help your dumbass do your homework back when we were in school.” All bets….off. “My baby? My life? My pussy? All my business. You don’t get to judge the decisions I make for my child nor the role that her father has in her life. That’s between me and him. Keep your nose out my fucking business. Don’t worry about me hitting you up anymore. That’s dead.”

Your rose will do just fine. Hell, there’s gotta be at least one other eligible bachelor in town you could fuck if absolutely need be. But, you know damn well you won’t be messaging Amir anymore. He comes with too much baggage. It’s not worth it. You refuse to let a nigga whose height starts with a 5 stress you out.

True to his nature, he starts gaslighting you. Typical Amir. “There you go overreacting and shit.”

“No, I’m not. You’re trying to question my parenting when you don’t know shit about shit.”

He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes. This was why people used to say you had a temper in high school. Because of him. Because he loved to tell people what you said but never what he did. Always tried to make you feel crazy. Truth be told, you’re stupid for even opening that door with him again, even if it’s just for sex.

“Whatever, Y/N.” He turns to walk back over to his car. You really wish his damn sister would change her work schedule so she can pick up her son instead of this asshole. You’ll catch a case fucking with his dumbass. “I’ll wait for your text.”

He’ll be waiting. “Fuck you, Amir.” 

You should be more mindful of your language at a damn preschool, but Amir has managed to get under your skin, something that hasn’t happened since you were in college. You know a good part of it is because you’re sleep deprived, but you also know it’s partially because of his dig at Joe.

You understand the optics seem to indicate that he’s a deadbeat, but you’ve expressed to Amir countless times that it was a complicated situation. He didn’t know the specifics, but you made it clear Joe didn’t abandon you or Callie. That’s just the narrative Amir keeps running with, and now with Joe being back in your life and especially in Callie’s life, you’re not gonna let it continue. 

“Mommy!” Your head snaps to see and feel Callie run up to and hug her body against your leg. “Boo!”

Shit. Did she hear any of that? You hope not and paste on a smile that’s hopefully authentic enough to sell that everything is fine. “Callie Bear.” You lean down and pick her up, kissing her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

She nods and starts explaining the activities while you buckle her into her carseat, trying your best to calm down and not give away your high stress levels in that moment. Callie is super perceptive, and you don’t want to ruin the obviously great day she’s had.

And sure enough, as you’re putting on your seatbelt and starting up the car, the golden question is shouted with pre-excitement. 

“Can I call Joe when I get home?”

Smiling at her through the rearview mirror, you answer, “yes, you can.”

In the almost two weeks that have passed since Joe’s departure, not one day has passed that Callie doesn’t asks to call Joe or just outright helps yourself to her iPad to call him. Sometimes several times a day during the weekends. And she’ll talk to him for as long as she can, as long as he’s able to hold a conversation with her. You’ll give it to him, he’s done an exceptional job handling all of it. On some level, you wonder if you should set some restrictions or time parameters, but how do you limit how much a daughter interacts with her father?

Callie rejoices at your approval and requests for you to put on the Disney playlist you made specifically for her on Spotify. 

The drive, no more than 10 minutes, consists of the two of you singing along to a few Disney tunes. It’s a bit of a tradition between you, a way to bond via your shared love of Disney. A love that ties not only you to her but to the women before you. Your mom and grandma. 

Arriving to your apartment complex, you decide to leave your work bag in the car. It’s Thanksgiving break. You most likely won’t do any work until the day or two before having to return.

You do carry Callie on your hip and swing her bag around your shoulder, walking the two of you up to the second floor. Sometimes, you regret not accepting the apartment they had available on the first floor. The older you get, the less your joints like to cooperate, your almost 15 years of cheer probably taking a toll on your body. 

And just age in general. 

But your regret quickly turns to a level of gratitude when you reach your door. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Dropping Callie to the floor, she’s of the complete opposite reaction, gasping and smiling broadly. 

“Look mommy, more boxes!”

The smile is strained but you manage to maintain it, sticking the key in the door, unlocking and pushing it open.

She walks in, and you place her bag on the floor near the door, one foot keeping it open. “What do you think it is?” She asks as you pick them up and bring them inside, kicking the door closed behind you.

You know exactly what it is. What it all is. 

Gifts.

From Joe. 

In his absence, you’ve had several deliveries waiting outside your door when you got home from work and picking Callie up. And all of them were for Callie, gifts of variable nature but all of them things she loves. Disney, stuffed animals, dolls. Essentially anything that could make a 4 year old feel like she’s won the lottery. 

She’s literally bouncing on her toes, already with her kids scissors in her hands. 

When the hell did she grab those?

“Can I open them, please? Please?”

A part of you wants to say no, save them for christmas gifts, though you’re almost entirely certain he’ll have another set of gifts for her then. And it seems almost cruel to make her wait over a month when she knows there are presents waiting for her.

“Sure, but….” You scamper into the kitchen and grab your adult size scissors, returning and showing her. “Let mommy cut them, and then you open them.”

You don’t need this child accidentally cutting herself. Again, medical bills are not in the budget, especially around the holidays. Money’s already tight to some extent. 

Not that….not that it’d be much of an issue with Callie. You’d never fix your moth to ask Joe for anything, especially not financially, but if it was something involving your daughter, you’re pretty sure your tune would change. It would still bother you to ask for help, but you know he’d have zero qualms helping you out.

He’d probably pay for it in its entirety.

Your proposition pleases her. “Okay!” She places her scissors on the nearest flat surface and sits down, legs crossed, bouncing impatiently. 

Chuckling, you glide your scissors across, careful not to open anything. You want to save that moment for her and your plan. 

Once done, you place the scissors on the kitchen island and reach for your phone. “Wait before you open, baby.” 

Immediately, she frowns and scowls, “whyyyyyy.”

Rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor too to be at her eye level and open Snapchat. “Okay, now.” 

You hit record and watch intermittently through and outside of the screen as she opens the boxes, smile permanent and excitement palpable. She especially gets excited when she pulls out a freaking box of the new Little Mermaid and all of her sisters. More….dolls. 

“Look, mommy!!!” She then grabs a doll who has a surprisingly similar complexion and curl pattern to hers, holding it against her face. “She looks like me!”  

“She does,” you agree, realizing it’s a customized American Girl doll. Damn. Those things can run up to $200. You weren’t stupid, knowing Joe’s probably spent more money on Callie alone in two weeks than you’ve spent all year, but just how much has he spent?

It’s when she opens the final box, surrounded by nothing but toys and packaging that you’re already dreading having to stuff all this in your trash bin, “what do you say, baby?”

Callie hugs the American Doll close to her chest and directs to the camera, “thank you, Joe!” She gasps and adds on, “I miss you, but mommy said I can call you tonight!”

You hold back your giggle and agree, adding, “after she helps mommy clean up all this.” 

Her smile drops, pout returning, “I hate cleaning.” 

Snickering, you mutter, “you and me too, sis.” 

You end the video, save it and enter Joe’s chat to attach the video, adding a message.

You: You’re spoiling her, Joe. 😫 This is the third delivery this week alone. 

You’re able to clean up some of the packaging and throw it away before your phone chimes with his response. Callie has grabbed the amount you expected her to grab and discard. Her attention span is trash at the moment. She’s a child surrounded by toys. It’s expected. 

Joe: She's my little girl. Of course, I’m gonna spoil her.

Joe: There should be another one by the weekend. If not, let me know.

You sigh aloud, this man is gonna have your place looking like freaking KB Toys.

You: Omg

You: ….You know I live in an APARTMENT, right? Just where the hell am I supposed to put all of this stuff?

It’s sweet he’s so keen on gifting her these things, but he also has to realize you’re not living in a mansion in Malibu. And despite having a child who leaves messes wherever she goes, you do your best to keep your place tidy. 

 If you didn’t know Joe, didn’t see how easily he connected with Callie, you’d maybe accuse him of trying to “buy” her love. But, you know that’s not the case, know that he clearly just wants to make her happy. You just hope he knows that he does that all by himself, no gifts needed. 

Joe: She has a whole playroom.

You: Yes. Playroom, not Toys-R-Us. 

Joe: 🤷🏽‍♂️

You: 🙄 You’re aggravating.

He doesn’t say anything after that, so you decide to finish cleaning because at some point your child wandered off, most likely to her playroom to add all her new stuff with her slightly new stuff. Taking advantage of the alone time, you also decide to text your mom to figure out thanksgiving plans. Specifically, what drink, dessert, and/or condiments she wants you to bring because you damn well know she won’t ask you to cook.

She still hasn’t forgiven you for that accidental fire that one year.

And it’s when you’re sitting on the sofa, also starting to think about black friday plans that your mind wanders, your anxiety grows out of nowhere.

You’ve taken the approach to not have any say in Joe’s relationship with Callie, to intervene only when absolutely necessary. And as that hasn’t hasn’t occurred, you’ve not done so. You let him and her do their thing. But a small part of you wonders if you should put some parameters around Callie. She calls him several times a day, Joe, who spends more time on the road than there are days in the year.

You know he wants to establish a relationship with her, but that can be done with boundaries. Anxiety getting the best of you, you grab your phone and shoot him a text. 

You: Is it okay if she calls you today? I know it’s been a lot, and if too much, just let me know. I’ll talk to her. 

His reply comes almost immediately this time around.

Joe: She can call me 100 times. I don’t care. I wanna talk to her.

And instantly, the anxiety is almost non-existent. Deep down, you know this is what he wants. He wants to have interaction with her, and incessant Facetime calls are the only option with his crazy schedule, so it’s what he takes. It’s what he wants. 

Pleased and no longer stressing over an issue that was never an issue, you lock your phone and place it back at your side. A quick glance at the clock reminds you that it’s almost time for Callie’s bath. 

A couple minutes later, your phone dings with a text notification. From Joe.

You open it right away. 

Joe: This weekend. Don’t tell her. I wanna surprise her. 

You have to read it a couple of times before it registers. He’s coming back in town. This weekend. As in less than two days. You’re excited at this, happy as well. For Callie. But also, for yourself. Why? You haven’t a clue, well, maybe there’s a slight clue, but you don’t want to acknowledge that right now. 

You simply want to focus on the fact that you’re happy your daughter will be happy her dad is town. 

Who cares that you will be too.

________

Joe’s just walked out the bathroom, having showered and almost entirely prepped for bed when his phone rings. 

Moving over to the hotel nightstand, he’s surprised when he sees Callie’s smiling face filling his screen. A glance at the clock in the corner of his phone reads 11:06, which means it’s 9:06 her time. Well past her bedtime. What is she doing up?

Curious, and regardless, he answers the phone. It takes a second for the connection to finalize when it does, he’s instantly smiling, mostly because it’s Callie but also because of her setup.

It’s obvious she’s under a blanket, a flashlight in the corner illuminating the space, a stuffed animal in her lap. 

She’s the first to speak, her voice both loud and hushed in a way only she can do. “hi!”

“Hi, sweetheart.” He can’t help but ask almost immediately, “what are you doing up?” As he told you, he’d talk to her 24/7 if he could. And even though this call is unexpected and appreciated, she’s also a 4-year-old kid who needs her sleep.

Her little shoulders lift in a shrug. “I can’t sleep.”

Nodding, he follows up with, “where’s mommy?” 

“Sleeping,” she answers with a level of disappointment. “I don’t wanna wake her up. She had a bad day.”

“Really?” Joe moves around so he’s laying on the bed, on his side, phone propped on the nightstand. “How do you know?”

“Cause–cause she was yelling at Mr. Amir, and–and he was yelling at her too.”

Joe hasn’t a clue why, but that instantly upsets him. Who the fuck is this Amir person, and who the hell does he think he is to raise his voice at you? Around Callie of all people.

“Who is Mr. Amir?” Joe hates asking her all of these questions, but it’s also hard not to. 

“The basketball coach at the school for big kids.” She’s caressing the fur of the stuffed animal in her lap. “Aunt Mariah said he was mommy’s boyfriend when she was a big kid.”

“Really.” It’s not really a question as much as it is a general statement. Joe doesn’t know why he’s suddenly annoyed, not with Callie, but the entire situation. And definitely this Amir person even more now. He’s an ex. He dated you. It shouldn’t make him feel any type of way, but it does, and he hates that shit. 

He hates a man he’s never even met.

“I don’t like Mr. Amir,” Callie suddenly announces with a scowl. Same, kid. Same. Joe looks at her, seeing so much of you in her right now. He knows you’ve mentioned how you see a lot of him in Callie, but when she’s glowering like this, she’s 100% her mama’s daughter. “He made mommy mad today.”

“Has he ever been mean to you?” Joe has to ask, because he’s also realizing a part of him is upset at the thought of Callie being around men. You’re a grown woman and allowed to do what you want, but bringing men around Callie….that’s an absolute fucking no. 

He doesn’t give a damn if he’s only been in her life for two weeks or two minutes. She’s his daughter, and outside of himself and family, who you date should be kept far away from his daughter.

Joe mentally prepares to have this conversation—potential argument—with you. 

“No,” she answers, slightly calmer. “He doesn’t like Disney.” She says it like it’s a sin, like it’s almost inconceivable for anyone to not like Disney.

Playing along with this, Joe gasps, grateful for the distraction that is Callie’s intricacies. “He sucks.”

“Yeah, he sucks,” she agrees, nodding. Joe has to keep his smile to himself. “Do you say bad words?”

The randomness and topic change take him by surprise, but he’s learning that you weren’t exaggerating when you said Callie was filled with incessant, unrelated questions. “Sometimes.” 

“Mommy does too,” she reveals. “Grandma says Jesus doesn’t want us to say bad words, but I heard grandma call Ms. Beverly from church a bitch.”

At that, Joe can’t help his laughter. Her delivery, the punctuation she puts on the word ‘bitch’, to how she seems to not even process that she’s just said a bad word. It’s hilarious. “Well, sometimes grown ups say things we shouldn’t, and you just make sure you’re not saying things you shouldn’t.” 

“Okay,” she agrees, almost sheepishly. And then, a yawn. “I’m sleepy.” 

Joe knew she was from the moment she called, but he had a feeling she just needed to get the whole Amir thing off her chest. She doesn’t seem like the child who likes to or even can hold things in, which is preferable. “You should try to go to sleep then, sweetheart.”

She wipes at her eyes, expression suddenly saddened. “When are you coming back? You’ve been gone a really long time.”

He’s torn in this moment, wanting to tell her that he’ll be there this weekend but also not wanting to get her hopes up in case something comes up. There’s few things that could come up to keep him from going to see her, wrestling be damned, but still. Life has a way of lifing. So, he goes with the safe yet disappointing answer.

“Soon, I promise.” She’s clearly indifferent to this answer and doesn’t say anything, instead shifts on her bed, moving to lay down. “You should really try to sleep, Callie.”

Eyes starting to blink, clearly her exhaustion catching up with her, she asks, softly, “will you stay with me till I fall asleep?”

Her request tugs at his heartstrings. “Of course, sweetie.” 

Seemingly pleased by this answer, she closes her eyes, and he watches. He stares at this tiny human whose existence he only learned about not even a month ago yet would do anything to make happy. Joe thinks about Callie constantly, finds himself smiling at the thought of some of the Snapchat videos you’d send him of her in all of her randomness. She was so entertaining, so full of life, a genuinely happy kid. His kid. 

And it’s why he’s going to find out more about this Amir guy and why Amir is having any type of interaction with his daughter. 

________

Joe: You should know she called me last night.

You’re in the middle of perusing early Black Friday deals, needing to budget for that now and taking full advantage of Callie being down for a nap. However, you frown, reading his message, not understanding why he’s stating the obvious. You were there when she asked for the iPad and when she returned it after the call was finished.

You: I’m aware….

Joe: No. After that. 

Your eyebrows arch together, confused.  

You: What? when?

Joe: It was 11 my time, so 9 yours.

You gasp, typing away, wondering how the hell she snuck in your room and managed a whole ass Facetime call without you hearing shit. Were you really that damn exhausted?

You: What the hell was she doing up at 9? What did she say?  No wonder she was crabby this morning. 

Joe: She said she couldn’t sleep.

You: A bad dream?

Joe: Naw, said you got into an argument with someone named Amir earlier that day and didn’t want to bother you….I think it was bothering her.

Your stomach twists at that. You had a feeling she’d overheard the incident with Amir, but you prayed that you were wrong. Clearly, you weren’t.

Joe: Who is Amir?

You pause at Joe’s question. Why is he asking this? What business of his is Amir? Irritation washes over you, but is waned by realizing he’s probably asking because of Callie. As her father, he has a right to know if you’re with someone, because for all he knows that someone could be around his daughter. 

You really are trying with this co-parenting thing.

You: A lot of things. A pain in the ass being the most recent one. 

You: We dated in high school and college on and off. He’s the basketball coach at our local high school. 

It’s more information than probably what’s necessary, but there’s this small, conflicting part of you that wants him to know you have no ties to Amir. That there are no feelings there and haven’t been for literal years. 

That you’re not with Amir.

Joe: Are you dating him again? Why were you arguing around Callie?

The interrogating is getting old, but you’re trying to play nice. Coparent peacefully. His delivery is off, but he has valid questions.

Sorta.

You: No. We just….we fuck around from time to time. He tries to make it more than what it is.  Was about that. 

You: I was waiting for her to be released from pre-school, and he picks up his nephew for his sister. It just happened, and I didn’t know/mean for her to hear.

Honestly, you’re more worried and concerned about Callie and how to approach this with her without making her feel like she was in trouble. Yes, she knows damn well she shouldn’t be on the iPad that late at night, but can you really be mad at her for talking to her dad about something that upset her?

Joe: You bring him around her?

You absolutely can be mad though at her dad who’s about to make you cuss him out next too. All of the questions are becoming too much. He gets to be concerned, but he doesn’t get to micromanage and invade. 

Feeling petty and recalcitrant, you type out a reply that you should probably think twice before sending.

But fuck it.

You: No. I only ride his dick at his place. 🙂 

There’s a small ounce of regret for being so crude, but not a whole lot. He knows how you are, or he should, at least.

To some extent.

But your phone rings again, and you find yourself staring mouth agape at his reply.

Joe: You may ride his dick, but you had my kid. Clearly, only one of us knows how to please you. 

Your face is burning hot, and you hate how you shift in your seat. Why the fuck would he say that? You want to say it’s inappropriate, but you also opened this door. 

Is he entirely wrong?

Slapping away that wild ass thought, you focus on the real conversation at hand here. It takes a couple of rewrites before you ultimately decide to change the subject. 

You: I’ve never bought any man around her and never will that’s not you, if that’s what you’re asking. 

You’re grateful to see he’s also agreeing to change the subject.

Joe: It is. Thank you.

Rolling your eyes, you send a text back, getting back to being annoyed at his 21 Questions. This is a two-way street, and since he’s opened this door, why not?

You: You know that goes both ways though. I don’t want her around any bitches.

Joe: Seriously? 

Joe: There’s no one for me to bring her around. 

You…..you don’t know how to feel about that, don’t know how to feel about the bit of relief you feel at this message. Why should you feel relieved? Even if there was, that’s his business, and he’s allowed to….do whatever it is that he does.

It reminds you and brings you to your next topic. 

You: What about your wife? We need to figure that out as well. She’s eventually going to need to know about Calista and will probably be around her at some point. I get she’s your wife, but I’m Callie’s mother, I need to be there whenever you wanna introduce Callie. I need to be involved in that process as well.

He doesn’t reply. 

________

Joe doesn’t really get mad. 

Not often at least and definitely not outwardly. 

It’s always been his thing to never let anyone have access to that “button” that triggers his anger, and for the most part, it works well. 

Except for when it comes to you.

You’ve always been able to trigger many things for him, anger being one of them.

He knows he should have spoken to you in person about the situation, or even over the phone. But with the craziness of his schedule and differing time zones, he just decided to message you, and while it didn’t go horribly, it didn’t go great. He knows you’re annoyed with him.

Hence your crudity. 

Joe also refuses to admit that the thought of you fucking this kid pisses him the fuck off, even though you’re not together, even though he has no right to be upset. 

But goddamn that doesn’t make him any less upset or annoyed at the thought of someone else touching you.

“Uce?” Jon asks, standing at the door before inventing himself in Joe’s locker room for this week’s Smackdown. “You ready to talk man?”

At that, Joe looks confused. “Talk about what?”

“Whatever it is that got you all worked up.” The twins have always been very perceptive, even back when they were all kids. Joe might be good at hiding his frustration from others but not them. The difference between Jon and Josh though has always been Josh has the wherewithal to not say anything. 

Jon hasn’t caught on to that just yet. 

“I’m fine,” Joe dismisses, hoping it’s enough to dead the conversation, even though he knows better. 

“Lie detector determined that was a goddamn lie.” Jon can be pushy, but he means well, and truthfully, Joe doesn’t have a strong desire to outright shut down this conversation. A different perspective is always beneficial. 

Usually. 

So, he explains it all, starting with his call with Callie and ending with the text exchange between him and you.

“I see,” Jon nods, clearly absorbing all of this information. Finally, he concludes, “so you’re jealous.”

That’s the first thing to evoke a genuine laugh out of Joe since his exchange with Y/N. “I’m not jealous.”

“And I’m not a twin,” Jon dismisses. “Look, Uce, it’s obvious you still got feelings for ole girl. You ask me, I don’t think you ever got over her—”

“I didn’t ask you.” 

“--Now you sitting up here annoyed cause she fucking Coach Carter nephew instead of doing something about it.” Joe rolls his eyes. “I mean have you even told her about you and J—”

“No,” he interrupts, swiftly. “Not yet, at least.”

Nodding, Jon speaks again after a minute of silence. “All I’m saying is ya’ll got the history, got the connection, got the kid too! Don’t see why you need to be letting Jesus Shuttlesworth steal your girl.”

At that, Joe chuckles. One thing his cousins will always be good for, especially Jon, is comedic relief. Even some sound advice from time to time.

“Thanks.”

Joe is, surprisingly, thankful for the equally surprising advice from his cousin. He’s not entirely sure if he’s really jealous or just overreacting for a reason he hasn’t quite uncovered, but he is starting to lean more on the side of he does still have some level of feelings for Y/N. 

It’s not a complete shock. He had a feeling when he reacted so strongly to just seeing your picture. It was the whole Callie situation and finding out how you kept her from him that made his vision murky. 

But, as his relationship with her strengthens, the clearer he can see. 

The clearer his feelings are becoming. Now. it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do with said feelings.

And find out where you stand as well. 

Joe remains quiet, thinking more and more how this might end up being an eventful trip.

[whiskeyghoul]

Pt.5 || She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader]

First chapter, Previous chapter, Next chapter

A/N: Get ready for some angst baby. So this is my first time writing something close to angsty. Which means I might not have completely perfected it yet. Then again there needs to be a first for everything. I hope you enjoy reading, and if you do, please let me know. My reqs are also open if people have any ideas they want to see written.

WC: 2,7K

Tags: Mild angst, conflicting feelings, a little hurt/comfort?, alt reader, realizing feelings, I don’t think this chapter is considered fluff. 

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, feeling alone, hinting at past relationships?

Spencer POV

It was Thursday afternoon when Spencer had returned from a case. It was short, quick, which was nice because he wanted to go back to you. He had tried to call while away, to text you when he had time. Yet for some reason you hardly responded. You were slow to answer texts, the answers always short and quick. You had avoided his calls, when you did pick up they were equally as short as your texts. The tone was distant and a little cold. It was strange to him. The date had gone well, in his opinion, and he didn’t think he had done anything wrong. It was just a little nerve wracking. With every short message, every cut off call, his anxiety grew.

When they got back to Quantico, he was ready to head straight to your lab. Though he noticed there was no music when he arrived there, it was quiet inside. Too quiet. He gently knocked on the frosted glass door. There was no sound from inside, no light coming through the door. No indication that you were there. His shoulders sagged down, a little deflated. He had been looking forward to seeing you again, even if it was just to settle his own nerves. His hand found the cellphone in his pocket, he scrolled through the names until he found yours. Pressing the call button, he just really wanted to hear your voice. Needing to know if you were okay, if he hadn’t done something wrong. The phone rang, 3 times, heart beating out of his chest before you picked up.

“Hello, Y/N’s phone! Penelope speaking.” The familiar voice of their technical analyst sounded from the other end of the phone. Spencer furrowed his brow a little, “Hey, it’s Spencer… Is she with you?” He asked, his left hand holding on to the bottom edge of his sweater. “Oh! Spence! She just headed to the toilet, she should be back soon. Want me to take a message?” Penelope answered, her voice chipper, she probably didn’t know you had been avoiding him. Or if she did she didn’t let it show. “Can I come talk to her?” He asked, still a bundle of nerves, the bad kind. The one where a nauseous feeling settles in your stomach. Where every word could send him into a spiral if it was said with the wrong tone. “Ofcourse, I am sure you have a lot to talk about.” Penelope spoke, and he could tell there was something in her voice. She knew what was going on. It made his stomach sink further. 

Just like that his feet started moving already towards Penelope’s office. “Thanks, I’ll be there in a minute.” Spencer said and quickly hung up before anything she could say would make it worse. He was quick, hoping to be there before you came back, so you couldn’t avoid him. He was there in a minute, like he had said, quickly and almost feverishly knocking on the door. The rapid rap of his knuckles against the solid wood sounded hollow in his ears. Penelope opened, trying to put on a bubbly smile. Though he peered past her to see if you were already back. No sign yet. “Hey, you should come in.” Penelope opened the door wider and he stepped past her. “Has she said anything? About me?” Spencer’s question felt weird. He didn’t want to come across as clingy, or that he was obsessed, but he just had to understand why. Why had you been avoiding him?

“Slow down boy wonder. I think I am not the one to tell you about that.” Penelope answered as she closed the door, pointing towards one of the desk chairs. Spencer hadn’t noticed how he had been nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet until she did. He sat down, trying to regain some composure. “Did I do something wrong? I thought the date went well. Maybe I rambled too much… That's usually what happens. I should have just stayed quiet, listened to her.” He rambled off nervously, his mind spiraling back to when he had leaned in and told a fact when you had been expecting something completely different. But you had kissed him after that, twice, it was so conflicting. Confusing. Paradoxical. 

“Breathe!” Penelope urged, grabbing one of her many mugs with water and forcing it into Spencer’s hands. He took a gulp, hoping it would calm his nerves but it didn’t do anything. At Least he was silent. “Just…” Penelope sighed, “I can tell you that you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Spencer nodded his head, taking another swig of the lukewarm water. He hoped it hadn’t been out for too long, who knew what bacteria were growing if it had. Though the idea of it was a mere whisper in the back of his mind as his entire consciousness was taken up by his worried thoughts. “I should have told you before, I really should have but I didn’t expect it to happen this quickly.” Penelope sounded dejected. “What happened? Just tell me, please?” He didn’t like how whiny that please sounded, how desperate it made him sound. Even though he was desperate for answers. 

The door to Penelope’s office opened, “Honestly Pen, I don’t get why you have to be so far away from the b-” You stopped your sentence as your eyes met Spencer. He was desperately clinging on to the cup he was holding like it was his life line. “Hi…” was all he managed to say when he saw you. Even with all the conflicting feelings, your appearance still left him a little tongue tied. You weren’t wearing the lab coat, so he could fully appreciate your appearance. The black and red patterned dress was cut low, and hugged your hips and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your arms are covered with fishnet fabric, some parts more ripped up to create a few larger holes. More important to him was the belt, two clips extending to hold the hem, hiking up the skirt of your dress to show off just a sliver of your thigh. “Spencer.” The way you said his name still made his heart race. He got up from his chair, placing the mug back on Penelope’s desk. The blonde in question nudged you, Spencer could almost see the thoughts swimming behind your eyes. You must be just as nervous as he is. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” Penelope said, quickly walking out the door of her own space, leaving the two of you there. Spencer’s heart was beating so loud, he could feel the blood rush under the skin of his hands. It was too silent as you both looked at eachother. 

“I want to-” “Why didn’t you-” Both of you spoke at the same time, breaking through the silence. There was a slight, awkward, chuckle that left Spencer. “You can go first.” He said, wringing his hands together involuntarily. “I want to apologize…” You said it softly. Spencer’s eyes flicked down to your right hand, twisting in the fabric of your dress. Your left was steadily turning a ring on your finger. Everything you did screamed nervous to him. “What for?” He asked, eyes focussed on you. He wanted to see everything, piece together every unconscious movement that would give away a deeper meaning. “For being a bit absent. I just… had a lot of work.” Lie. That was a lie. Spencer could see it. The way you averted your eyes, how your hand stilled in the twisting of the ring, your breathing hitched up as you said the last part of your sentence. Everything pointed to it being a lie. He hated that he could see that.

You felt the need to lie to him. To temper his feelings by trying to explain away what had really happened. There were tens of thousands of thoughts swimming through his mind about what could have happened. Did you meet someone else? Or realize he wasn’t your type. The differences being too big to make it work. “Could you tell me the truth?” He didn’t mean for that to come out. Especially when he saw the surprise in your eyes. “I am. I was busy, I had a lot of evidence to sort through, drugs, nail scrapings. I also had the reports to write and- and-” You were trying to convince yourself that it was the truth. That hurt. Apparently you didn’t want him to know the real reason. “Y/N. I am a behavioral analyst, I can tell when you lie. Please just… don’t? I want to know what happened, I thought we had a good time at the museum. I just, did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to, and I can’t change it if you don’t tell me.” He was pleading now. Eyes on you as you looked for an answer, lips slightly parted as you breathed out. Taking a step closer, reaching out his hand to yours. Just to hold it in his, feel you, decide if this was either a bad nightmare or a terrible reality. 

When Spencer felt your hand in his he closed his eyes for a moment. This was real. He opened his eyes again, the only focus was on yours. Waiting. Watching to see your response. “Spencer, it wasn’t anything you did. Trust me. You did nothing wrong, it was perfect, and I wish I could have stayed in that museum forever.” You spoke, not averting your gaze, looking him in the eye with full confidence. Not even a tremor in your voice. That was the truth.

“Then what happened? I don’t like that you’re ignoring me. It feels like just the entire pit of my stomach gave out. Did I move too fast? I’m not good with these things. But I really, really, like you. You do all these things to me. Just… I can’t take the silent treatment. Not from you.” There it was with a sigh. His feelings, out in the open. Hoping it was enough for you to tell him what happened. Instead, you looked sorrowful, eyes almost glossy with what he realized were tears. “I really am sorry. I need time for something. I can’t talk about it now, I don’t want to pull you down with me. I will tell you afterwards, okay?” Your voice did nothing to soothe the pain of rejection he felt. Even though he so wished to believe you. You were hurt too and he didn’t understand why. Because you were the one pushing him away.

Spencer nodded his head dejectedly, a soft sniffle leaving him as he tried to not let the emotions overwhelm him. All the anxiety had left and was replaced by the cold, empty feeling of rejection. His nerve endings were no longer on edge, instead they were rather numb. “I’ll eh… I will go. Leave you to whatever you need to do.” His voice didn’t really sound like his own to him. Like he was running on autopilot and it was a preprogrammed recording. He let go of your hand, taking a deep breath, before he walked to the door. His hand was on the door knob when you called his name, when he looked over his shoulder at you you looked just as dejected. Your lips parted, like you wanted to say something, closing again, opening again. He could see you looking for the right words, but there were none. His lips formed an awkward, tight smile and he nodded. “Text me when you want to talk.” He said before leaving the room.

Closing the door with a hollow sound he took just a few steps before Penelope approached him. “What happened? Are you okay?” her voice concerned and laced with just a little pity. He didn’t need pity right now. He didn’t want to be around anyone. “Could you tell Hotch I need a personal day?” His question got a frantic nod in return. Clearly she understood it wasn’t something good that happened just now. “Yeah, yeah of course. Need anything else?” She answered, trying to be the good friend he always knew she was. He shook his head no, “I just need time.” He spoke softly before walking over to his desk. There was no comment from Derek, just a slight sympathetic look. He hated that.

Grabbing his bag and his jacket he quickly made himself ready to leave. JJ tried to stop him, files in hand ready to ask a question when he ducked his head and continued on. Not willing to talk right now he stepped on the elevator and pressed to go down. Walking out the door and straight to his car in the garage. When he finally reached his car and sat down it all hit him. His stomach felt heavy yet empty, but also like it was twisted in knots. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm down a little, tears threatening to spill behind his eyes. Blinking rapidly to push them back. There was no need for tears. You went on one date, he shouldn’t be this attached, yet he is. From the moment he had entered your lab he had been awestruck. Then, in the following week, he had started rambling and feared he had messed up by doing so. Yet you just smiled, asked more questions, let him ramble and rant about everything and anything. Content to hear him speak. He didn’t feel like an annoyance.

Spencer sighed, putting his key in the ignition and turning it, the song that came on was still on the same radio station that you had put it on, depeche mode sounding through the speakers. Quickly, his hand reached out, changing the station to anything else. Not wanting to be reminded of you immediately. He pulled out of the parking lot, driving home, a welcome distraction from his thoughts. When he got home though, he felt completely drained. Placing his bag near the front door, dropping the jacket over it. Toeing off his shoes before walking further into the apartment. He sat down on the couch. Once again alone with his thoughts. He leaned his head back, resting it against the top of the couch as he closed his eyes again. Rubbing his eyes with another sigh.

He wondered what it could be. What the reason for your coldness was. The fact that you seemed reluctant about it just made it weirder. He cursed himself for being able to read your expressions, your movements, to deduct anything from your behavior. He wished he didn’t know because it would have made it so much easier to be angry with you. To feel betrayed, led on, or even used. Instead he knew that you were just as torn up about what happened as he was. It made it feel even worse. He knew there was a reason, but the fact you were not willing to tell him hit the wrong nerve. Eyes opened on the ceiling, the faded green color perfect to get lost in. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. Head tilted back, looking at the ceiling as his mind was both working over time and thinking of nothing. A weird combination of feeling too full yet completely empty. Watching the shadows stretch further and further, slowly fading until there were no longer any shadows cast on his ceiling. It was just dark. 

That’s what it was like. The night taking over the sunny feeling he had felt. An end coming to the light he had felt for the past two weeks. The nocturnal cold setting into his body. How he hated the realization that dawned on him that moment. He didn’t just like you. He had fallen all at once, during that first meeting, without realizing. Now it was too late to tell you. He doubted you even felt the same. So now he was left to suffer the heartbreak on his own. To deal with the conflicting emotions you left him with. 

At least the night was quiet enough for him to think.

Tag list: @luvkatryna @emma-e-a @littlemadamred @cultish-corner @styleiconsize0 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @depressedbutartsy @mikariell95 @jasf444 @queermaxwooo @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @sammy-4103 @thedevioussmirk @pleasantwitchgarden @khxna

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking someone not to make my art about a ship I hate?

This happened a couple months ago, but I’m still kinda unsure if I handled it correctly.

Basic rundown of events: I posted some art of a character on their own in the evening, and when I woke up the next morning, someone had reblogged with an addition about a ship that’s a big notp for me. I messaged them to ask they delete it as politely as possible, because people had been interacting with that version of the post specifically and it made me uncomfortable. They responded by saying I was being immature and needed to learn not to police what other people do on the internet. We exchanged a couple more messages, and I tried to explain my position my throughly. Neither of us was overtly hostile or anything, but I felt extremely talked down to by their tone of voice. After our conversation, we both blocked each other, and that was that. They never did delete their addition.

Why I think I might be TA: we weren’t exactly friends or anything. Neither of us followed each other. I’d seen them around in the fandom, and they’d reblogged some of my art in the past, but I think messaging someone I didn’t know instead of just blocking them might have been a bit of an overreach. Plus the ship in question is canon, and not particularly controversial or anything, so most people in the fandom probably wouldn’t have minded.

On the other hand, the ship being so unavoidable is a big part of the reason it upset me so much. It’s hard for me to exist in this fandom without having to see it constantly, and I don’t even ever mention the other character in it for fear of this exact thing happening. I’ve had people be assholes on my posts about the ship I prefer, or go out of their way to interpret my romantic posts about them platonically, or add tags to my art about how they only like my ship as backstory and not endgame. I don’t want to have to put a disclaimer every single time I post about this fandom. I just want to enjoy the things I like without being negative all the time. Which is why I figured messaging privately was more polite than making a stink where everyone could see. I specifically mentioned that I knew they wouldn’t have known and wasn’t mad.

No one actually ended up reblogging their addition, which is also a strike against me, but I got a lot of likes on specifically that version of the post, which made me scared they were going to. I hated the idea of having to turn off reblogs on a piece I’d worked pretty fucking hard on because a version I found so upsetting was in circulation. If it was just tags, I’d have blocked, but it being an addition is different. I don’t think asking people not to make my posts about it is “policing what other people do on the internet”. You’re in MY house, on MY post with MY art I spent hours on. Making additions to art posts already seems somewhat rude to me, that’s just not something you do, but I guess that’s a matter of the corner of tumblr culture you’re used it.

Also, their response felt very aggressive and condescending. They implied I was, like, a kid, and I do think I’m somewhat younger than them, but the only information about my age in my bio at the time was that I’m an adult, so it felt like a rude assumption. My age doesn’t have anything to do with it.

Again, though, I do absolutely see how my initial message could read as entitled. During the rest of our messaging, I did lose my temper a little bit at one point; I said something about how I’ve had to deal with shit in this fandom before, and I don’t remember the exact words since, again, we both blocked each other, but I know I swore at them. That might’ve come across as more aggressive than I wanted, and probably didn’t exactly help deescalate. (Can’t say for sure, I don’t have their side of the story)

Like I said, this situation was a bit ago now, but it upset me pretty bad at the time, and I’m still not entirely sure who’s in the wrong. So, AITA?

(Also to get ahead of this: please don’t make this about shipcourse in the comments. It’s not about that. They and I have similar opinions on that discourse from what I’ve gathered anyway. Thanks.)

What are these acronyms?

[sprinkler-ashes]

gold rush // aaron hotchner x reader

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

description: in which aaron hotchner hates social media – unless it’s yours. inspired by gold rush by taylor swift.

words: 2.2k

warnings: hotch is down bad, curse words, a bit of pining and jealousy

a/n: i love the idea of the bau being active on social media + hotch having no idea what any online terms mean lmao anyways i just really like this little fic. happy reading!!

i don’t like slow motion, double vision in rose blush

i don't like that falling feels like flying ‘til the bone crush

everybody wants you

but i don’t like a gold rush

Aaron Hotchner is not a fan of social media.

Maybe it’s because of his job. He knows that posting too much information online could sometimes lead to bad situations because there are always people lurking – it’s impossible to know who, exactly, is watching online. Or maybe it’s because he simply didn’t grow up with it. It didn’t really matter – he just knows he does not like using it.

Penelope had shown him quite a bit of Twitter after several BAU cases started trending while the cases were actively going on, even somehow agreeing to let her set him up an account. Aaron didn’t really want an account, but it was almost impossible to say no to Penelope Garcia who Aaron genuinely liked a lot.

Facebook was another one that he had. He didn’t even have a profile picture and only harbored a small amount of friends – entirely family. The site was strictly used to keep up with Jessica since she was an avid Facebook user. If he couldn’t get a hold of her through her phone, he would send her a message on Facebook’s messaging platform, Messenger. She typically responded that way.

The last social media account Aaron had was a new one. Or, well, new-ish. It had just been created a little over a month ago. He didn’t want the account, but Penelope wasn’t the one who asked him to get an account that time.

It was you. And saying no to you was even harder than saying no to Penelope.

A group photo was taken at Rossi’s last month during a get-together after finishing a case. Penelope went straight to Instagram to post it, tagging everyone except Aaron who wasn’t shy to say he didn’t have an account. He was the only one – even Rossi had made an account.

“You’re not on Instagram?” You’d asked Aaron only moments after that.

He shook his head. “I don’t really use social media.”

You frowned like you were in deep thought before turning to him again with a smile. “We should change that.”

All it took was a good minute, maybe even less than that, and one of your signature smiles to convince him to let you help him create an Instagram profile.

He accumulated a small amount of followers since then, which he had to approve, of course, as Aaron made sure his account was set to private – mainly family, some friends, and the team. However, that was as far as it went. He was still figuring out the app, but completely forgot about his new account due to his busy life.

Except for now.

It’s a slow Friday at work – mainly just a day spent catching up on paperwork – and Aaron never really complains on days like this. Yes, it’s usually boring, but having a day without a case means he actually gets to see his son at the end of the day, so it’s a win for him.

But a slow day creates boredom, especially when he’s actually ahead on paperwork. Aaron can’t recall the last time he was this bored at work – probably because he usually has something to do – but when his eyes ghost over the time on his expensive watch, he has to resist letting out a sigh of agitation because, somehow, there are still four more hours left in the workday.

Aaron puts the pen he’s holding down and moves the file he’s in the process of reviewing. He grabs his phone from one of the drawers in his desk and turns it on. The lock screen, which is his favorite photo of Jack, lights up before he enters his passcode.

He does errand-like things at first, including responding to a couple of texts, checking his personal email, and even spending a minute, or five, on Twitter, not that he would ever admit that to Penelope.

Eyeing the colorful app with a white outline of a camera, he hesitantly opens Instagram, still not really used to it considering it’s been over a month since the last time he was on it. He waits a second for it to load up until a photo appears on his feed from JJ, who posted a picture of Henry and Will before she left for work.

jj_jareau: My two favorite guys <3

Aaron knows that the symbol on the end of her caption is supposed to represent a heart because you often send the same symbol in the BAU group chat. He’s not sure why you never use actual emoticons – he’s never asked you – but he associates the symbol with you.

Not that he’s associating hearts with you specifically. Or overanalyzing all your texts in the group chat. Of course not, it’s just because you use it often. That’s all.

When Aaron tries to scroll, he accidentally presses on your username that was showing up in the preview of the comments, sending him straight to your own Instagram page.

He’s about to click the back arrow above your profile picture that he’s assuming will take him back to his feed, but Aaron can’t stop himself from glancing over your profile. Your page is filled with photos from moments in your life that go back years.

Looking up from his phone, he can see you from his chair as the blinds in his office are currently open. You’re chatting with Spencer who’s sitting across from you, a smile on your face as you continuously glance from him and back over to your computer screen where you’re typing, making sure Spencer knows you’re still listening to whatever bizarre fact he’s probably ranting about.

Aaron looks back down to his phone. He’s never been on your page, nor have your posts ever shown up on his feed during the rare times he’s actively gone on the app. It almost feels too personal – like he’s not supposed to see the side of you he doesn’t work with.

He carefully presses on the last post you made. It’s a post from only one day ago, but you’re not in any of the seven photos you’ve posted, which makes him frown with a tinge of disappointment.

Your caption reads, September photo dump, with a couple emoticons.

Wondering what the hell a photo dump is, Aaron looks through the set of pictures again. Everything is random. They range from a sunset to a picture of a meal you must’ve eaten at some point during the month of September, which just passed, and even one of Emily’s cat.

He scrolls down to the next post from three days ago. This time, you’ve only posted one picture and luckily for him, you’re actually in it.

You’re sitting at a dinner table, head resting gently on your hand with a sweet smile while your other hand is gently holding a glass of what – Aaron brings the phone closer to his face without knowing he can actually just zoom in – appears to be champagne.

It only takes him a few seconds after admiring how you look in the photo to wonder about who’s on the other side of it.

Aaron doesn’t know who took the photo and is getting to see you smile like that, but he does know that he wishes it was him because you’re just so damn pretty.

The man is pretty sure he would quite literally melt down to the ground if you looked at him like that.

He’s attempting to push these thoughts to the back of his head as he prepares to scroll to the next post. Aaron is well aware of the fact he shouldn’t be thinking about you in any way that isn’t strictly platonic. He is your boss and even aside from that, the two of you are not only co-workers, but friends.

Friends, he reminds himself. That’s all.

But as he scrolls to the next post, every thought of friendship leaves his body.

It’s a photo taken with the flash on from exactly a week ago, last Friday night, of you, Emily, JJ, and Penelope in what appears to be a club that Aaron can’t say recognizes. You’re standing on the end, your arm snaked around Emily’s waist with your body turned towards the camera while mid-laugh.

The black dress you’re wearing hugs every inch of your body perfectly – you’re showing more skin in the photo than Aaron has ever seen out of you. He’s seen you dressed up before – even seen you in person at clubs himself – but nothing like this before. Ever.

Much needed girls’ night out, your caption says.

Aaron’s not even sure he’s still breathing when he swipes to the second, and last, picture in the post.

This time, it’s only you. You’re still in the same dress, looking at the camera with a sultry smile. You’re not in the club this time. Aaron can’t tell where you are, but that doesn’t really matter because you’re looking straight at the camera with one of the most attractive looks he’s ever seen – it almost feels like you’re looking directly at him.

prentiss_emily: Baddest bitch in the bureau

yourusername: @ emily_prentiss Only behind you ofc

Though he knows she means it in an endearing way, Aaron doesn’t want to call you a bitch, but Emily’s comment on your post technically isn’t a lie. Unfortunately, he also can't seem to figure out what "ofc" means.

A part of him feels guilty. He knows he can’t have you, yet he’s going through your Instagram right now imagining a thousand what-if scenarios, a tinge of jealousy running through his veins at the idea of you ever looking at anyone the way you’re looking at the camera in your photos.

Aaron spends so much time trying to convince himself he doesn’t feel the way he does for you because there are so many reasons why he shouldn’t have the feelings he does. He can’t think of a scenario where you can be his nor can he think of a world in which you feel the same.

So, after he looks at this photo for another couple of seconds, he’s finally going to close out the app and forget about the way you look in that dress.

He can’t get the chance to do that because the door to his office is opening abruptly, startling him to the point where he drops his phone onto his desk.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, hands fumbling to lock his phone so your Instagram will go away.

There you are, mouth open to say something until you notice him fumbling with his phone.

A sheepish look appears on your face. “Sorry, I forgot to knock.”

“It’s fine,” he says, hoping his voice is even and doesn’t scream: Hello, I just looked through your Instagram. “What do you need?” He lays his phone down – it’s finally locked – and looks up at you, trying to appear like he was actually doing something.

“Oh, I don’t need anything. Reid and I are going to try that new place that just opened up down the street for lunch. I was wondering if you wanted me to grab you something.”

“Do you have a menu?” He asks.

“Yeah, give me a second. I’ll text it to you,” you tell him.

You’re pulling your phone out of the pocket of your pants and if Aaron had been paying attention and not pretending like he was working, he would’ve seen the way you glanced up at him, back to your phone, then back to him, a giddy smile on your face.

You do as you told him you would and send him the menu. “Take your time looking over it. Just text me what you want within the next fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks. I’ll look over it in a minute.”

Aaron really does go back to work this time, his hands moving to pick up the file he moved earlier. He hears the door open and assumes you’re on your way out of the door, but you don’t leave yet.

“Oh! Before I go,” you say, your body out the door and your hand lingering on the outside knob of his office door. He looks up at you, pen in hand. “Thanks for the like on Instagram.”

Aaron thinks his heart has stopped upon hearing those words. Before he can even say anything, you shut the door, and you’re making your way back to where Spencer is still sitting.

He swallows hard, closes the file, and sets it away once again. His fingers frantically type in his passcode, and Instagram immediately pops up, still open from when he tried to turn his phone off.

To Aaron’s horror, he sees the Instagram heart that’s used to like photos filled with red and seemingly glaring at him. It was too late to unlike it now. You’d obviously already gotten the notification.

Meanwhile, as Aaron is mentally panicking, you’re whipping out your phone again to send another text. This time to Emily who is currently in a meeting.

I will never doubt you again – Operation post-a-thirst-trap worked!

[bad268]

A Ride Home (Corpse Husband X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Miscellaneous

Requested: Yee on Wattpad (AGAIN me checking my messages wow)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: You/your

W.C. 1118

Summary: False promises and first meetings

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^White Shirt cover)

It was only supposed to be a small get-together with some of your internet friends. That’s it. That was all you agreed to when Rae first brought it up. 

“There will only be like five people there, I swear,” She had said. Lies. “You’ll know everyone there.” More lies. “When have I ever steered you wrong?” Clearly, there was a first for everything, you thought.

You had no idea whose house you were at, and you don’t know how this “small get-together” of five people turned into a full-blown party with nearly 50 people.

You decided to keep to yourself against a wall by the door. You wanted to make sure if Rae left, you would leave with her since she drove you, and you, once again, did not know where you were. Your phone had died long ago or else you would have navigated back to your apartment and walked, regardless of how far. You were nursing a cup of &lt;em>something</em> as you sat on the floor against the wall, casually watching around at the people moving around the room. Anytime you would make eye contact, you immediately snapped your attention down to your drink as your hands shook with nerves. 

“So much for relaxing,” you chuckled to yourself as you downed the last of your drink. You sighed as you pushed yourself up and made your way to the kitchen to refill the cup. Just your luck, you walked into the kitchen that happened to be packed. In that group, Rae happened to be standing next to a tall man with curly hair. You wanted to go up to them, to tell Rae you wanted to leave, but you also did not want to interrupt their conversation or have the attention turned to you. You waited until the man started walking away before you grabbed Rae’s arm and pulled her to the side, whisper-shouting, “You said a small get-together, not a full-blown frat party! I want out.”

“I can’t drive you home,” She responded, clearly drunk which made you roll your eyes in annoyance. “But my friend, Corpse is going home! I can have him give you a ride home!”

“I would rather walk than get in some random guy’s car, Rae, but thanks,” You said, giving her a tight-lipped smile as you turned on your heels and walked toward the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Rae shouted over the music booming in the living room, causing a few people’s attention to snap towards the two of you.

“Rae, shut up!” You seethed as you pulled her out the front door. “I don’t appreciate the attention and I don’t like the idea of getting into some random dude’s car! That’s how people get killed.”

“Nonsense! Corpse is a close friend of mine,” She explained, “Plus, he’s harmless!”

“That’s what they said about Ted Bundy,” You deadpanned before deciding to sarcastically add, “And with a name like Corpse, I’m sure he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Well, his name’s not actually Corpse,” Rae added as if it were no big deal, “I don’t actually know his real name. That’s just his gamer tag.”

“Oh great! Even better! You don’t even know the guy’s name!” You replied in disbelief. “You can’t be serious, Rae.”

“My name’s [redacted] if that makes you feel better,” A deep voice from behind you interrupts, causing you to turn around to meet the tall man with curly hair from the kitchen. You were speechless. From far away, he was pretty, but up close, he was stunning. His eyes bore straight into yours and you lost all thoughts. 

“Y/n,” you said back, breathlessly, still in awe and slight embarrassment. In your shock, you did not notice Rae get dragged back into the house. The two of you did not really know where to start, so you spent the next few moments in silence. That was until Corpse cleared his throat. 

“I hear you needed a ride home. If it’s the same area I’m heading, I could drop you off,” he offered.

“Thank you, but I’m on the outskirts of San Deigo. I’m probably out of your way,” You admitted, dismissing his offer before starting to walk down the driveway.

“Actually, I’m in the outskirts, too,” he stopped you, reaching for your arm but never grabbing it. “What are your cross streets?” You told him what they were and watched as his face turned from interest to shock. Once you two got the cross streets clarified, he led the way to his car and opened the passenger side for you. He pulled out of the neighborhood as you started making small talk. All was well until you mentioned that you lived in an apartment. “No way, are we in the same apartment building?”

“Mine is F213,” you said, skeptically but also interested to know if you two were so close.

“Did you just move in like a month ago? I just got a new neighbor and I’m pretty sure that’s the number,” Corpse laughed as he pulled up to a stop light and looked over to see your eyes wide. “Ha, we’re neighbors and we didn’t even know!”

“First things first, don’t rat me out if you hear things at 3 AM,” you chuckled, pointing a finger at him but he gave you no mind as he continued to drive. “Rae pulls me in for random lobbies, and I might get a little heated sometimes.”

“As long as you don’t rat me out,” He laughed in response. “Sometimes, I’m the one that makes those lobbies and pulls Rae into it.”

You two continued chatting as he drove through the streets of California (almost getting killed by a few stupid drivers), even stopping at In n Out on the way back for dinner. You both found out that Rae told both of you it was going to be small, and you found out that Michael was the one who pulled everyone in. By the time Cropse pulled into the parking complex, you did not want the night to end. You decided to say something after you walked up the stairs and were just about to split off to go to your separate apartments.

“I had fun hanging out with you tonight, Corpse,” You started. “You are funny and you are super easy to talk to. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

“We don’t have to end here,” Corpse started. “I am supposed to play Party Animals with my friends Jack and Felix. We need four people, and our friend Dave back out earlier today. The spot’s yours if you’re up for it?”

“Count me in,” you laughed, moving to unlock your door, ready to play.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[bambinella]

Rumors pt 2

I recently made a post to address the ongoing situation, and I feel like I have to address it yet again, since it’s getting out of hand. 

First of all, I want to apologize to everyone that got involved in this mess, especially the tickle community. I’ve been part of this community for many years now, and I’m enraged by all the hate all of you are receiving by this anon. None of you should be in this situation, and I definitely want to get out of it. I’ve been trying to keep this wildfire contained, but anon is targeting literally anyone right now, be it people who follow me or people who’ve never heard of me before.

In my previous post I mentioned that I suspect ticklee25 to be behind the anon hate, but I didn’t specify or clarify why. Since I still think it’s her, I will explain my thoughts on the why. I’m aware that the messages are still anonymous, so I cannot say with 100% certainty that it’s her, but there are certain details I wish to address.

For starters, the anon hate started on the day I blocked her. ticklee25 and I chatted on discord for a while, and after she became rude, insulted me and my interests and started calling me several times in the middle of the night, knowing of our 5 hour difference, I removed her as a friend. The next day she reached out on tumblr asking me why, yet since I was out all day I hadn’t seen it so I didn’t respond. Then I came back to another message where she was gaslighting me into being a bad friend, which ended with ‘bye’. I removed her as a friend on tumblr too and simply deleted the conversation, since I thought that was gonna be the end of it. Alas, it was not. When she returned with yet another message to insult me some more, I blocked her. That’s when the hateful rumors started spreading. At the time I had no idea I'd have to take screenshots to collect proof, so this is all I have on this matter.

Secondly, some of the anon hate messages had my real name in it. Since my name is not on my tumblr page, you’ll only know my name if you either know me in real life or if we chatted. This indicates that the anon hate is being spread by someone I talked to before. I have no quarrel on tumblr with anyone else, so this points yet again in her direction. Seems a little too suspicious to me to be a coincidence.

The first anonymous message (as far as I know) was sent to my close friend @otomiyaa, which claimed that I was a pedophile. It quite frankly shocked me since I was not prepared for the anonymous hate. I naively thought it would stay with that simple message, and then I thought it would stay with otomiyaa. For a while it did, as she kept receiving several anonymous messages which insulted me. It went from me being a pedophile, to being fat and ugly, to being a shitty writer, which heavily reminded me of the last message I’d received from ticklee25. Then it started spreading to other people, since anon didn’t get the satisfaction of a reply. They first targeted everyone who interacted with me, and when those accounts defended me they moved on to people that don’t follow me and minors.

I have an entire list of rumors being spread about me, from very serious to simply stupid, but it sadly didn’t stay with just rumors. Anon here took it upon themselves to send anonymous messages warning everyone that I spread hate into the tickle community, only to send the hateful anonymous message themselves while tagging me in it. Most people instantly realized that it would be really stupid to send an anonymous message and tag yourself in it, so they knew it wasn’t actually me sending the messages. Here are some examples:

Another thing I have noticed is how, despite me blocking ticklee25, the anonymous hate continued being sent. Some argued that this was a good enough reason for me to change my mind, that it couldn’t be her. However, after looking into it I noticed how several blogs, who were reblogging hate about me, hadn’t even been up for 24 hours, or spammed within mere seconds of each other. Very suspicious again. Some of these blogs are lifeisstrangeenthusiast, swiftlyticklish and ticklelover5.

So, I simply want to clarify some things. I am not a pedophile. I have not been sending hate to people from the tickle community. I have not been sending hate towards minors. I have never forced someone to do something they’re uncomfortable with. I am not a groomer. I am not trying to steal your partner. There may be more rumors, but these are the ones I wanted to address. And to be perfectly clear, I am not the jesus anon.

If you get messages like these, please know that it’s not me. I literally have no reason to spread hate, and I don’t want to stoop to this level. Like I said before, I’m only here for fanart, fanfics and da gays. 

I turn myself directly to the anon now. I suspect you've created multiple accounts to keep spreading hateful messages, no matter how many times I’ve blocked you. You could have reached out to me and spared everyone the pain, but you wanted to cancel me so badly so instead you decided to make it everyone’s problem, even going as far as targeting minors. You’re pathetic. I’ve taken the next step, and unlike you I do have screenshots to back me up.

Lastly, I want to thank everyone who has backed me up over these past 6 weeks. You’ve all helped me more than you realize, and I love each and every one of you. I'm super grateful.

@otomiyaa @rach-amber @thebest-medicine @whatsjulietslastname @amazingmsme @turtlee-rockin @toweroftickles @wild-lee-ticklish @softleesam @fluffomatic @ticklerfluff @atlaslunacozycorner @a-ticklish-banshee @objectfromthesky @kaseylovesbayley @knizmokat @wheezylee-jay

Longest post of my life, but it had to happen. I hope we can end the bs now, because I'm honestly done with it.

Update: I didn't have to wait long, as suspected, until someone was getting pissy about my post. @ticklelover5 decided to spread screenshots of random conversation with ticklee25 before the drama started, which only confirmed my suspicions that they're the same account and same person. Thing is, all her replies somehow have mysteriously disappeared! Shocker. So it looks like I'm just talking to myself like a fool. And this somehow adds to her cancel campaign? Proving that I'm horrible because I was talking? I'm confused and pissed, but I kinda expected this when I made this post. I'll post them here too, so you can see what I'm talking about.

Not gonna lie, the fact that she's been blocked back in december and somehow still has my conversation is kind of sickening to me. The fact that it's my current pfp and not the one from my screenshot means she just screenshotted these to try and get some dirt on me. I'm glad I got out of this friendship just in time, and I would have left sooner if I knew the level of psycho I'd be dealing with.

[seoafin]

dog days are over | chapter three

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru warnings/tags (for this chapter): beginnings of a panic attack, mentions of implied dissociation and depression, slight nsfw word count: ~7.7k

fic masterlist read on ao3

There’s a wedding.

You know this because Satoru is holding a pristine white invitation with elaborately floral borders and calligraphy so curled it’s difficult for you to read it when for all intents and purposes, you are used to handling and deciphering historical accounts and journals.

That’s not the only thing.

The invitation had been addressed to both Satoru and Suguru.

The two of them are getting invitations sent as one. It means something. It’s an acknowledgement. Unspoken, but palpable. 

Satoru flicked the invitation open, indifferently scanned the contents, and threw it on the nearest surface (the desk in front of him) with a lazy flick of his wrist. In his words: a higher up’s daughter was getting married to some big shot young politician. Their honored presences was humbly requested. They’d be delighted to have the strongest in attendance for the joyous occasion.

You picked up the invitation and scanned the date. Next month, on the sixteenth. A Friday. You have off on that Friday. You know that because there is an exhibit one of your professors is curating at the Tokyo National Museum you had planned on asking Satoru and Suguru to.

Satoru doesn't really respond well to invitations. You could still ask him—

“Friday’s going to be a real pain.” Satoru texts away on his phone. You watch as Suguru replies in real time. You wonder if the two of them have resolved all of their problems if they’re texting normally. 

“Oh,” you say, surprised. “You’re going?”

Satoru’s gaze momentarily flicks up at you, holding your gaze for a few seconds, before returning to the screen. “Might as well.” The words come out begrudgingly. Satoru makes a face at his phone, presumably one of Suguru’s texts, and types out a long response.

You suppose that means that they have plans already. You don’t mind. You had been intending on going alone anyway.

Your own phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s a message from Shoko.

Ieiri Shoko

[4:31] there’s a wedding

[4:32] i have been invited to a wedding

[4:33] Satoru and Suguru too. Satoru said he’s going. Suguru too. Probably.

[4:33] ? Those two? lolololololol 

[4:34] I didn’t think Satoru was going to go. 

[4:36] your guess is as good as mine.

[4:36] how about you come with me? be my plus one

[4:36] say yes

You stare at Shoko’s text. Come…with her? To the wedding? You hadn’t expected to be invited. Either as a person or a plus one. You wouldn’t know anybody. The thought of being surrounded by people somewhere clearly didn’t belong makes you nervous. You won’t be able to rely on Satoru or Suguru or even Shoko’s presence. They’d be busy, too busy for you. You’d stand in a corner and stay quiet, and people would brush over you, a nameless person of little importance and significance.

If you’re being honest, it doesn’t sound like a good time. If Shoko really needed you it’d be one thing. But you’re sure your presence wouldn’t be missed. 

You’d let her down gently. 

You press out of the chat just as Satoru stands up to peer down your head and squint at your phone. You wonder what has him so curious, and shut your phone off and look up. 

“We should go meet up with Shoko and Suguru, shouldn’t we?”

Satoru only sighs, rubbing at his neck with a faintly irritated look on his face. That’s not good.

He takes your hand and leads you out the door.

----

Dinner is fraught with tension. You look from Satoru to Suguru who are pointedly refusing to look at each other, which is difficult, considering they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder in a crammed yakitori restaurant. 

You’re…unsure what exactly is going on. You thought your worries about Satoru and Suguru were a worry for the past, but now, it’s impossible to ignore the pointed silence, Suguru’s cool silence, or even Satoru’s increasing agitation. Without the usual sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose, it’s even easier to tell Satoru's patience is running thin.

You look to Shoko, whose head rests on your shoulder as she idly scans the menu, unbothered.

“We should share the chicken meatballs,” she says. “And the squid. I’ll order two draft beers, and maybe some plum wine…”

You make noncommittal noise. Then look back to Satoru and Suguru, wondering what you can say to dissolve the tension and make them look at each other again.

“So,” you clear your throat. “Excited for the wedding?”

You smile encouragingly when they look at you.

“No,” Satoru says, unhappily. “Not really.”

You wonder why he’s even going in the first place. Is it because of Suguru? Are they fighting over attending the wedding? That sounds wrong. Satoru doesn’t like to put up with troublesome things, but for Suguru, a four hour wedding was nothing.

“Only children think the world bends to their whims,” Suguru remarks pleasantly, despite the sharp edge of his words. “Adults should know better. Even Mimiko and Nanako know better. Tsumiki and Megumi—”

If there’s one thing Satoru can’t handle, it’s a lecture from Suguru. That hasn’t changed since high school.

“Yeah?” There’s a dangerous challenge on Satoru’s tongue as his eyes narrow in accusation. “I know what I want. If that makes me a child, then fine. At least one of us does.”

“Shoko,” you whisper to her. “Something’s wrong.”

Contrary to your own panic, Shoko’s watches the two, amused. “The only thing wrong here is that I don’t have a beer.” She waves a waitress over just as Satoru and Suguru fall into stony faced silence.

A young, fresh faced waitress with her hair tied up in a ponytail bounds up to the table. Shoko lists half the menu, ordering for the table. Then she orders drinks. Alcohol for you and her, a melon soda for Satoru, water for Suguru.

“Make that three,” Suguru interjects. “I’ll have a beer too.”

She flushes prettily when Suguru gives her a polite smile, slyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. Satoru’s face darkens.

“How is medical school?” You ask Shoko. “You’re taking care of yourself, right?” You hope she’s taking breaks in between her studies and her work at the school, eating well, and sleeping a good seven hours every night. 

She faces you, cheek flattened on her open palm. “I should be asking you that. Do you even remember to eat if I don’t remind you?” She pokes your nose.

“I eat,” you say, a touch defensively, but you already know Shoko knows better. Sometimes, you forget to eat. Sometimes it’s too much of a bother. You're fine though. Healthy enough.

“Hmmm.” She turns her attention to Satoru and Suguru. “This wedding is going to be awfully awkward if you two don't kiss and make up soon.”

“Everything’s fine,” Suguru says civilly. He softens at your concerned look. “It’s fine.”

You don’t believe him.

Satoru’s gaze is flinty. “Who says we’re even going together?” 

“You’re free to go by yourself,” Suguru replies, serenely unbothered.

“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll go with Shoko.”

“Absolutely not,” she says immediately. “I’ve already got a plus one.”

Your stomach drops, put on the spot. You hadn’t had the time to think of an adequate excuse to avoid the wedding as Shoko’s date. It’s too late for excuses if Shoko’s already told them you’re going. You can’t let her look the fool by backing out now!

They look at you. Your lips curl in an automatic smile.

There’s the beginnings of a playful grin on her face. “We’re picking out dresses tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“Yeah…”

Well, if any good came out of this wedding, it would have to be getting to go dress shopping with Shoko and helping her pick out a formal dress. You’d like that. You always thought she looked good in bold colors, and if the occasion warrants it, she’ll wear her bright red lipstick. You already feel lighter, excited at the prospect of seeing her in all different types of dresses. You’d take the job seriously, make sure you help her pick the best—

“Kimono,” Satoru states.

“Dress,” Suguru asserts.

You blink. Their gazes clash, and you can feel a chill come over you. What are they fighting over now? This might even be worse than the several occasions they fought in high school. Never had they fought about anything that couldn’t be settled with a good fistfight. Something tells you this runs deeper. It’s more than a trivial burst of high tempers, more than juvenile attitudes at work.

“What?”

A lazy smile hangs from Shoko's lips. She is thoroughly amused, taking everything in as if she’s at the theater. “I asked them whether or not I should put you in a kimono or a dress for the big event.”

You didn’t even think about what you’d wear to the wedding. You assumed Shoko would give you something. And if not, you could just go shopping. If Shoko was too busy to come, then Ijichi usually had a good eye for silhouette and fashion. You worry about your kouhai once more. He really is too competent for his own good. You hope you won't be troubling him too much in the future.

You are discomfited. You don’t want the hypotheticals of something as inconsequential as what you plan to wear to an event to be another point of contention between them.

“That’s…I don’t really care what I wear.”

“Whatever you want to wear,” Suguru says reassuringly. “I’m sure you’ll look perfect regardless.”

You warm at Suguru’s words, unexpectedly abashed as you lower your gaze to your lap. It’s hard to think of yourself as perfect, especially in terms of appearances when you’re anything but. You determinedly meet Shoko’s eyes. “I’ll do my best not to embarass you,” you say deathly serious.

You’ll do your best to be sociable, speak when spoken to, and try not to let yourself get caught up in all the important people you’re sure are going to be in attendance. You figure if anything this could be practice. Making new friends. Although all you’ve known for the last years of your life is Satoru and Suguru and Shoko. Occasionally Utahime when she visits down from Kyoto. Mei Mei too, even. You can’t rely on them forever, you know this. It’s easy to forget the monotony of the days before you entered high school. Days passing while in a trance, food tasting bland, the perpetual buzzing in your ears. You slept and slept and slept. You spent more days asleep than awake until you were inevitably needed for another mission.

You don’t think you had known what it meant to live, in those days. You didn’t know that the salty breeze of the ocean was a sensation in your nose that felt akin to the seconds before a sneeze. You didn’t know that the colored disco lights in a small karaoke room could bring you so much joy. You didn’t know that hot summer days could be idle, that eating a popsicle with friends could be a momentous occasion. All of these moments, engraved on your heart. You’d take them to the grave, and you’d be content.

You still occasionally experience these fits of sadness so encompassing you drown in it. Especially around certain times in the year. Sometimes, you find it difficult to wake up. There’s a boulder in your chest, pressing on your lungs and weighing you down. You sleep for days. Wake up to remind yourself that you still exist, and close your eyes. Other days, you feel your body move on auto pilot, from one destination to another, cursory smiles and words. You don’t remember much of anything. Just that when you wake up, you feel yourself again. And if you don’t, you sleep and repeat until you do.

It’s a troubling matter to articulate. Something you’ve never quite put into words. If it’s an inconvenience to you, it’d be an annoyance to others. So you keep quiet, and hope it stays a secret, where it won’t bother anyone.

“As if that matters,” she sighs, eyeing you warmly. “ You’re not that one that needs to worry about embarrassing me.”

She side eyes the two men seated across from you, and sighs. "Hopeless.” She flings the word at them. 

Your waitress returns with skewers of meats and vegetables and more. Shoko gratefully takes her drinks, and downs half of it down. Then she takes a chicken skewer.

The rest of your meal continues in either silence or short lived conversation. Suguru asks about your thesis. About Shoko soldiering through medical school. Shoko orders more alcohol. You ask him and Satoru about Kyoto, since the two of them have been spending more and more time at Kyoto tech for one thing or another. Meetings, clan visits, Satoru visiting members of the Gojo clan, etc. You stick to safe topics of discussion, and decide that any talk about matchmaking ceremonies or arranged marriages is dangerous.

It’s only so often that the four of you can meet up like this. Adult responsibilities and all. You hope Satoru and Suguru make up soon. To you, this time is precious. And even with Satoru and Suguru refusing conversation with each other, you’re happy to be with them.

The night goes by in a blink of an eye. Shoko orders another round of drinks. Soon it’s twelve in the morning, and Shoko calls for the check. You’re getting ready to leave when your waitress approaches apprehensively.

“Excuse me,” she says, fingers curled around a piece of paper. You watch eagerly, excited at being able to watch a confession unfold. But the storminess in Satoru’s expression creeps back in and you sweat. She hesitates, gaze flicking from Satoru, back to Suguru, and draws back with a shake of her head. The scrap of paper clenches in her hand. “I’m sorry, I thought—” 

“Oh, I am,” Suguru smiles. “Single.”

Shoko chokes on her laughter. Satoru doesn’t look amused in the slightest, jealousy as palpable as a strike of lightning and the aftermath smell of burnt grass. You stare down at your lap, willing yourself to be as small as possible, discomfort prickling at your chest.

“Oh…Oh! Then I—” she flushes, looking back at the gaggle of other waitresses towards the cash register, two of whom give her a thumbs up. She extends her arms, bowing her head, piece of paper tucked between her fingers. It looks like an offering. An offering of Valentine’s day chocolate. “I wanted you to have this! Just—just in consideration of me!”

It’s undoubtedly endearing. You’ve never been in love. You wonder if you were normal, if it’d come more naturally to you. If you were a normal girl without the occasional bouts of terror and sadness and the all consuming exhaustion. Without the need to hide away every once in a while. Someone who could lead a happy and guiltless life. You wonder if you had ever had a chance. A possibility for you to be loved. Or if it had been the inevitable circumstances of your birth that had condemned you to a lonely, forgotten existence.

Shoko takes you by the arm, excusing the two of you for fresh air, before you can hear or see Suguru’s response. 

Outside, snow is beginning to fall. You stare at it as it lazily floats onto buildings, Shoko’s head, the ground. You brush the white off her head as she lights a cigarette and inhales with a gusto.

“I needed this!” She rests against the brick of the restaurant and exhales. “Those two love to make their business everyone’s problem, huh.”

Your lips twitch, despite the gravity of the situation. “I’m worried about them.”

“They’ll be fine,” she briefly stares at the lit end of her cigarette, the ashes flickering to the floor, before meeting your gaze. “They always are, aren’t they?”

----

You immediately feel out of place as you and step into the hotel’s banquet hall for the wedding reception. It’s beautiful, decorated with flowers, vines that hang from the ceiling and down the columns, and ice sculptures set up around the floor. Round tables with designated seating and personalized name cards set atop the plates fill the venue while leaving the middle of the room, the dance floor, open. Not a single yen wasted.

You scan the crowd of faces for Shoko, or even Satoru or Suguru. There’s not a single recognizable face. You swallow down your growing unease, adjust the silk skirt of your dress, and try your best to inspire confidence in yourself. 

You slowly take in the rest of the grand room, take a glass of champagne offered, and then realize you’re too nervous to drink. There seems to be an unusual amount of people concentrated around the main entrance. Your skin prickles uncomfortably. Years later, you still don’t do well around consistent crowds of people. Sometimes, it feels like if you’re slowly suffocating, boxed in where the walls are slowly closing in on you.

It’s not a pleasant feeling. You walk in the opposite direction and try to tune it out, careful not to grip the champagne glass too tightly. You hadn’t been invited to the actual wedding procession. You wouldn’t be invited to the Shinto ceremony either. That was reserved only for a special group of guests. You’re glad for it. You don’t know if you can survive in close quarters with people important enough to run the country of Japan.

“There you are,” a familiar voice pulls you out of your thoughts, a hand on your shoulder.

You turn, brightening. “Shoko!”

She looks stunning in the dark crimson gown she picked out when the two of you had gone dress shopping, and you can already see a few interested glances in her direction. Her hair is braided up, exposing her slender neck, and you can smell the cypress of her favorite perfume. You catch yourself staring at the red lining her lips, a few shades lighter than dress. If anything, you think being able to see Shoko like this is worth all the troubles of pretending to be… somebody.  

“How was the wedding?” You hand her your own untouched champagne. She lifts it to her lips and it’s gone.

That gets a grin out of her. “Interesting.”

She tells you that it had been an arranged marriage, and the bride had staunchly resisted the match, to the last second, which explained the closed, intimate ceremony. Furthermore, the bride refused to write and recite her vows, which had made for an entertaining scene on the altar. And that when the groom had leaned down to kiss her, she had angled her face away, so that his lips had collided with her cheek instead of lips.

The story is entertaining. Though you can’t help but feel bad for the bride, forced into a marriage by forces outside her control. What if she was already in love with somebody else? What if she had no interest in marriage? What is she didn't want a husband?

Shoko draws back a step, looking you up and down with a nod of approval. She smooths out the neckline of your dress. “I thought you’d look good in this one. It makes me want to show you off.”

You glance down at the silk dress adorned on you, so soft it ripples with every movement. It’s a pretty dress, although you’re sure you don’t do it justice.

“How are Satoru and Suguru?” You ask hesitantly.

Shoko tilts her head towards the main entrance. “How about you ask them yourself?”

Upon closer inspection, you realize the crowd of people around the entrance had been gathered around Satoru and Suguru. Huh. You didn’t originally notice them. You must have been too caught up in your head.

“No thanks,” you say, not wanting to intrude, but you take the time to watch them for a little longer.

Suguru’s face is animated with a bright smile as he converses with several other older guests, head slightly inclined in a politely deferential stance. They’re both in Kimonos. Matching colors. That brings a smile to your face. Still united in some way even if they may be in the midst of a long standing argument.

Satoru’s face is shaded with sunglasses, a suspiciously blank expression in the indifferent set of his lips. You aren’t sure you’ve caught his eye, but he perks in your direction, and when you raise your hand in a slight wave, he straightens.

Shoko weaves her arm through yours. “Alright, let’s get more drinks!”

You catch the frown forming on his lips just as Shoko tugs you away.

Shoko manages to get an entire bottle of champagne. Then she leads you to the largest table in the room, towards the front of the banquet hall, and gestures to your seat next to hers before taking a seat and filling her glass back up.

“I healed the bride’s father a while back,” she says, taking a sip of the champagne. “Stage 4 kidney cancer.” She makes a face. “I hate making house calls, but the higher ups insisted. I’m not trying to become a private doctor.”

“He must have been grateful.”

“He was,” she snorts. “He tried to buy me into his employ.” She leans back into her seat, looking at the banquet hall. “The man certainly has the money.”

“You like it at jujutsu tech,” you say with a bright smile. “You’d never leave us.” You’d like to think she’d never leave you.  

“I wouldn’t leave you,” she says, matter of factly. “How could I leave you with those two insensitive jerks?"

You’re so pleased you don’t think your smile can contain it all. She said she wouldn’t leave you. The champagne you took one sip of sits bubbly in your stomach. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be that bad. Less work, more money…” you shrug. “If it made you happy, I wouldn’t mind.” Jujustu tech would probably fall apart without Shoko, so you leave that part out. You just want her to be happy.

She exhales. “I’m happy where I am right now.”

The two of you share a smile.

Shoko’s bottle inevitably runs empty while she recounts a funny incident in medical school involving a cadaver, and you offer to get her another one.

When you come back, there’s a man you don’t recognize in your seat, conversing with Shoko. You wonder what they’re talking about, for Shoko to look so unusually engaged. You’ve observed her in all her varying degrees of disinterest and moods to be able to read her well. You don’t want to disturb her. So you drop the bottle on the nearby counter of the open bar and turn on your heels to do another lap around the room. Once again, you spot Suguru and Satoru, who have relocated to underneath one of the glass stained windows running the length of the wall of the room.

Satoru is with the groom, a tall man with handsome features dressed in a tailored black suit. The rising star politician, you assume. Next to him, his sullen bride stands, surly disposition visible all the way from your place in the room. A stunning emerald dress is draped across her figure, ending at her ankles. Her arms are crossed. Satoru’s lips move in response.

Next to him, a couple feet away, Suguru is talking to a woman dressed in a silver colored heavy furisode, the two of them deep in conversation. Your interest is piqued. You can’t quite see her face, her back towards you, but you think she may be Suguru’s matchmaking attendee. 

You should give them privacy. Well. You shouldn’t be gawking at them. You turn just as someone else steps behind you, colliding into them. The ensuing collision has you precariously teetering back. Before you can regain your balance, a strong hand wraps around your upper arm, another around your waist, steadying you at once.

“You alright?”

The man you bumped into you gives you a dirty look, before continuing on his way. You look at the man. There’s something familiar about the set of his cheekbones, the curl of his lips in an easy smile, his dark green gaze, like the clearing of a forest. You’ve had this thought before, long ago. When the green of a boy’s eyes made you remember there was color in the world.

“Yes,” you reply slowly, waiting for him to let you go. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“I’ve been watching you.”

You stare at him, unsure of how to take his comment. Watching…you…? You hope you haven’t done anything embarrassing. “Excuse me…?”

He promptly drops his arms and steps away. You slowly move to take a step back. Maybe you could pretend someone was calling you over—

“Wait a minute! That made me sound—” he shakes his head. “Wait.” He extends his hand, a wide grin on his face. “Let's start over! Shirokami Hideo.”

It clicks. Oh. You know this man. Well, you knew the boy. You don’t remember much from your time at the Kamo compound. It’s a series of blurred faces and muffled voices. Long stretches of darkness. You slept a lot back then too, you think, because the only thing you do remember in clarity is the sandalwood scent of your comforter, and your preference for sleeping on futons. 

“Hideo-kun,” you say, as you remember a shallow brook deep in the forest, and the boy who had taught you to catch fireflies with his hands. You wonder how and why you had forgotten in the first place. You left the Kamo compound, and forgot it all in the monotony of the ensuing years. His voice is deeper, and he’s grown into his face, but if nothing else, his eyes are the same. “I remember you.”

He beams. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Do you still like stargazing?”

---

The surprise must be evident on your face because he sheepishly scratches his face. “The first time you talked to me, it was to tell me that I was looking at the Canis Major, not the Crow.”

You don’t remember it, but it touches you just the same. To think that someone remembered you, even when you didn’t. You had left a piece of yourself in someone.

You take a bite of your lobster, nodding. “I do. I try to go when I can. But I’ve been so busy lately…” You’ve also been meaning to take the kids with you one night. When the weather warms up, you’ll bring them to the mountains. They’d like that. You know Tsumiki was delighted when you gave her a book that illustrated the constellations. You had bought it for her with Megumi on one of your outings.

Hideo nods in sympathy. “It’s tough being a jujutsu sorcerer. Trust me, I’m taking advantage of the low season to take time off to relax!”

The two of you sit at a table tucked away in the far corner. Hideo’s table. There had been an empty seat which he offered. You gratefully accepted, especially when you managed to catch a glimpse of your original table. You had seen Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru. Along with the bride, groom, and a couple other distinguished people seated at the table. You’re glad to escape from the scrutiny. You do much better in obscurity. 

You spent the last hour catching up. Hideo was mainly located in Kyoto, with his clan, a Kamo branch family, but he had been preparing to move to Tokyo for a change in scenery.

You knew him for a brief three months, before his return to his clan for his mother’s funeral. He regretted not being able to leave you a note, or tell you that he was leaving. He tried to contact you after, but nobody knew your whereabouts, especially since you moved back to Tokyo and was subsequently lost in the system.

Currently, with his father on bedrest, he was preparing to take over the clan from Tokyo. The move to Tokyo is an effort to bridge the gap and relationship between the Tokyo and Kyoto jujtusu societies.

In return, you offered your own mundane and uneventful recollection of your life up to this point. Compared to Hideo’s, you didn’t have much to offer. You moved to Tokyo after studying the katana at the Kamo compound. Undertook missions as expected of you, and lived alone up until high school. Then you enrolled in jujutsu tech. Now you’re in school for your masters, and then hopefully, a PHD.

It feels odd to talk to someone other than Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru. You don’t know Hideo nearly as well, despite a brief history together. Where you can search for familiarity in the softness of Suguru’s smile, the mischievous curl of Shoko’s lips, Satoru’s straightforward demeanor, there’s nothing here to cling to. You don’t remember what it ever meant to be without them. It’s alarming. It’s frightening.

But you think this is what it means to start anew.

The room quiets as a spoon taps glass. Attention gathers towards the table in the middle of the room where an older man in a tuxedo stands. It’s a five minute speech that you don’t really give much thought to, your thoughts with the bride who looks precariously close to storming out of the room.

Hideo tilts his head towards you, his lips in your ear. “She doesn’t look too happy, huh.”

You have to agree.

There are three more speeches. You don’t recognize anybody. Soon after, conversation fills the room once more.

During a lull in a conversation, you excuse yourself to the restroom for a few minutes to yourself. Upon entering the brightly lit room, your gaze is directed towards a woman seated on one of the loveseats in front of a large, wall length mirror, fixing her makeup. You recognize her silver kimono immediately, and when the small, compact mirror slips from her hand and onto the floor by your feet, you bend down to hand it to her. There’s a lotus engraved onto the back of the mirror. 

“Thank you,” she says delicately, fingers brushing yours as she takes back her mirror. Up close, you take in her full appearance. The delicate contours of her light makeup to her exceptionally beautiful hazel eyes. Her brown hair is shoulder length, brushing her shoulders, bangs immaculately cut across her forehead. She looks like a doll, even more so when she gives you an inquisitive look, a polite smile curling her lips.

“Is something the matter?” 

You realize you’ve been staring. Your face burns. “I’m sorry,” you say, voice reedy, unable to articulate how lovely you think she looks, or how you had seen her talking to Suguru earlier, and whether or not she is who you think she is. So you simply awkwardly look at her. Nod your head in a curt goodbye and turn back around, intent on not speaking to anyone but Hideo for the rest of the evening, lest you embarrass yourself further.

You run right into someone’s chest, and hear a familiar voice say your name, the familiar scent of sandalwood in your nose, as a hand on your upper arm rights you back up.

“Suguru,” you say happily, looking at him. Up close, you think he looks especially handsome in his dark blue kimono. His usually pulled up hair is down, flowing down his back. You like it when he lets his hair down. You didn’t think you’d get to see him, or even talk to him today. “I seem to be bumping into a lot of people today…”

Concern immediately colors his face as he smooths your hair down and fixes the shoulder of your dress. His hand stays on your shoulder, thumb tracing your collarbone in comforting motions. “Everything alright?”

“Yes!” You reply immediately to assuage his concern, if anything. You hope he's alright. Or at least making nice with Satoru for the duration of this event. You're sure they've grown past making a public spectacle of their arguments, but one can never be too sure. “I’m no good at these types of events. I guess I’m just a little nervous…”

“I was looking for you,” he says, eyebrows furrowed. “Shoko said you were…” his features grow taunt, lips tugging into a slight frown, “fine. But you weren’t in your seat.”

Shoko must have seen you with Hideo. Which meant she looked for you. Your smile grows wider. However, even the thought of returning to your designated seat surrounded by the most important people at the event you’d be expected to converse with makes your stomach twist. Embarrassing yourself was one thing. Embarrassing Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko was another.

“She’s right,” you confirm, doing your best to reassure him. “I found an old friend!”

His lips reflexively twitch into a smile, maintaining an amiable expression, but it doesn’t touch his eyes. “An…old friend…?”

“I’ve been with him the entire time, so you don’t need to worry. I’ll introduce you,” you say eagerly, excited at the prospect of being able to introduce Hideo to Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. “He—”

“Are you cold?” Suguru suddenly asks you lightly, hand slightly squeezing your shoulder. “The air condition is cold in here, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” you blink. “...Are you cold?” That wouldn’t do. Maybe you could ask the hotel receptionist—

“Geto-sama,” a voice interrupts, “I didn’t think I’d find you out here.” You turn, seeing the woman in the silver kimono, once more, smiling, a fresh layer of red painting her lips. You straighten, resisting the urge to smooth out your dress.

“I was on my way to get some air,” Suguru answers with a smile of his own. “I ran into a close friend.” He chuckles goodnaturedly. “I’m trying to convince her to come back with me.”

Come back with him?

Her gaze slides to you. If she remembers you, her expression is unreadable. Her eyes slightly widen. “Oh my,” she lifts her hand to her mouth. “Is it your seat I’ve taken? My apologies—”

“Oh, it’s fine!” You wave her off. She looks genuinely apologetic. “Please, take my seat. I’ve found another with an old friend.”

“Is that so…” She trails off, glancing up at Suguru. “Forgive me, we haven’t been properly introduced.” She lowers her head. “Sasaki Kumiko. Pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

You reply with your own name, and an encouraging smile.

“Speaking of,” you step away. “I’ve kept Hideo-kun waiting long enough. Why don’t you take her with you to get fresh air, Suguru?”

“It would be a pleasure,” Kumiko says, eyes brightening at the idea, giving a face a certain type of incandescent joy. “I would love to accompany you.”

You don’t wait for his reply to make yourself scarce. You give his hand a little squeeze, before making your way back to Hideo.

The two of you fall back into easy conversation and talk until the moon is high and bright in the sky. Plates are cleared and guests start to rise once again, mingling and talking as the dancefloor begins to fill up.

You’re unsure of what to do. Should you look for Shoko again? You’re not much of a dancer. You don’t want to hold her back with your discomfort. Hideo lightly taps on your arm, bending down to whisper into your ear: “There’s a garden outside. Do you want to walk with me?”

You are instantly relieved. With everybody crowded around the dance floor to witness the bride and groom’s first dance, the two of you would be able to slip outside. Nobody would be there. You could get away.

You nod, and he takes your hand, leading you towards the exit leading to the hotel lobby, and then outside. As the two of you step out into the pebble lined path, lit up in anticipation for the wedding, you can still hear the strings of the quartet playing from the ballroom. Immaculately tended flowers line the path, flowers of every color and shape. You sigh, feeling the tension slipping from your body. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you. Earlier.” Hideo laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, turning to you earnestly. “I saw you earlier, and I spent so much time thinking of what to say to you that I completely forgot what I was going to say!”

You laugh, despite the outside chill trailing over your body. You relate to the feeling of your tongue not working at times. “You didn’t scare me. But I did think you mistook me for someone else at first,” you admit. You were initially perturbed, that was true. You’re glad he cleared the air before you managed to escape. You’re glad that you’ve met him again, after all these years.

The path opens to a small clearing with an empty fountain as Hideo fondly details his short lived time at the main Kamo estate with you. At the Kamo compound, he was one of many boys, left alone to his own devices in favor of the more elite sons of the family. It was the first time he had ever tasted freedom away from his own clan estate, where he was coddled by servants and his sickly mother.

Upon your silence, he looks at you, concerned. “Is it cold?” He moves to take off his jacket but you stop him.

“It’s not that,” you blurt out. The cold feels good on your skin. Calms you down. “I don’t remember much from back then. It’s all…hazy.” Any recollection of your childhood draws a blank. It makes you feel bad that you can’t dignify his memories with your own. “But I know that…” you trail off, staring at your feet. “You were kind to me. Back then.” Even you know that you hadn’t been in the right state of mind so soon after your father died. You wanted to leave the past behind. You didn’t want to remember. You had to forget to survive.

You sit down on the cold surface of stone, and exhale. You didn’t realize Hideo’s appearance would dredge up the past like this. You feel tired all of a sudden. You want to go back to the apartment you’ve made a home, curl up in your bed, and let sleep claim you once more.

A weight settles on your shoulders as the warmth of Hideo’s jacket envelopes you. He takes a seat next to you, gaze searching yours. 

“You were a child,” he says gently. “It’s okay to forgive yourself—”

You don’t hear the rest of his words as blood rushes to your ears. You can’t swallow the lump in your throat, and your face feels hot to the touch. Your fingers curl into the skirt of your dress. Forgiveness . You have no right to forgiveness. You allow yourself just enough happiness, and that’s enough. 

“—it was only three months.” His gaze turns a touch concerned. “Are you alright?”

Panic bubbles in your chest as you manage shallow breaths, staring at him in increasing discomfort as your vision begins to go spotty.

Forgiveness? Your father died before he could forgive you. He died resenting your birth. He wished you had died instead of your mother. The forgiveness to absolve yourself isn't yours.

“There you are.”

You’d recognize the sharp cadence of Satoru’s voice anywhere. You focus on it. He’s unhappy. You wonder if he got into another fight with Suguru. You turn to where he stands, arms crossed, jaw set into a hard line. In the moonlight he glows otherworldly, a piece of divinity on earth. If only his expression matched.

His eyes are piercingly alight as he approaches. “Shoko’s looking for you.”

“Oh.” You perk up. “She is?” In your momentary elation at the prospect of seeing Shoko again, the anxiety dissipates enough for you to collect yourself. You almost forget to make introductions, but Hideo beats you to it, standing up. 

“Gojo-sama,” he says, inclining his head. “It’s an—”

“Like I care,” is Satoru’s clipped response. A dismissive glance in Hideo’s general direction, before his gaze is focused on you again. You stare at him, taken aback at his rudeness.

He pulls you up, not roughly, and examines you with a keen eye. He takes in the coat on your shoulders, and irritation shrouds his face once more. He swipes it off your shoulders and throws it back on the fountain. Then he takes off his haori and sweeps it over your shoulders. Without another word, he takes you by the wrist and away.

You give Hideo one last glance over your shoulder. He waves, a good natured smile on his face.

You eye Satoru’s back, trying to tug your hand back to your side to no avail. His fingers are locked around your wrist. Despite his annoyance, you’re happy to see him. There’s so much you want to tell him, about all the small details about your shameful past you tried to hide, about the small things you did remember about your time at the Kamo compound, even about Hideo—

You are backed into a wall, Satoru looming above you, eyes flashing. “Who the hell was that?”

You blink at him, looking from Satoru’s left arm caging you into the wall, to the other with slight disbelief.  “Shirokami…Hideo…” We lived together when we were younger. Back when I had nobody. Back when I was a ghost. He taught me how to catch fireflies. I don’t remember much about those days, but I think he made me happy.

You hold your tongue.

You hope you aren’t being presumptuous. “He’s a friend—”

Satoru’s fingers dig into your chin as he lifts your face up. You look into his eyes, brighter than the moon hanging in the sky, and you think there’s something disconcerting in the way he looks at you. Like you could ask him to defy the laws of the world. For you, he do it. And if you asked him to bring down a star, he’d lay it on your palm.

The world stills, just as it usually does when you meet his gaze. Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you stare at him, daring you to pull away, to drop your gaze back to your feet.

You feel his hand curl around your nape, pulling you to him with a squeeze that feels branding. He takes your lips with a bruising kiss, pressing you back into a garden shed. A startled noise leaves your open lips, and Satoru takes advantage, teeth sinking into your bottom lip with a distinct viciousness. You feel his tongue dragging against your own, hungry. Your eyes widen, never leaving his lidded stare that could be a glare. His hands come up to cup your face, angling you to his whims, effectively keeping you still against the onslaught of his lips as he steals your breath away.

He’s all you can see and feel. The heat of him, his palpable desire, so feverish it eats you alive. You push at his chest, feeling the lack of oxygen muddle your brain but he only holds you tighter. When he finally pulls away, a string of saliva briefly connects your lips, broken when Satoru’s tongue runs over his lips. Your hands are fisted into the fabric of his nagagi so tightly that you’ve pulled it open, exposing more of his chest than necessary. You let go, hands falling limp to your side.

His eyes lower back to your lips, and you startle. You’d take a step back if you could, but instead you push back into the wall. Somewhere in between, Satoru had lifted you up, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist, dress hiked up. Satoru’s hand is resting on your bare thigh with a grip that has no intention of letting you move, and a shiver rips through your body as you inhale gulps of air. His leg rests between your thighs, reminding you of the uncomfortable wetness staining your panties.

He leans forward and you unknowingly tense, but instead of your lips you feel a sting on your neck. Teeth. You wince, but Satoru holds you in place, fingers curling into you like a warning. You feel his tongue tracing the bruise, before he straightens with a finality. You might be shaking but you’re unsure if it’s from the cold or…

You stare at him, stunned, while he meets your gaze unrepentantly.

“I…” your voice trembles as the awful reality slowly sets in. “Could you…” you struggle with the words. “...Please put me down.”

For one terrifying second, you see the beginnings of the stubborn set of his eyebrows, as if he might refuse.

Then, wordlessly, wearing a frown, he lifts you down.

You don’t think. You bend down on unsteady legs to pick up his fine haori that had fallen to the ground, and neatly fold it. You hand it to him. He takes it. 

“Good night,” you intone.

You stiffly walk back into the hotel lobby, where everyone has gathered, ready to leave for the night or take taxis to the invite exclusive after party. You think you might walk to the train station. Nothing feels real.

You should text Shoko. Tell her that you didn’t feel good and that you took a taxi home. Yes, you’ll do that.

You accidentally meet Suguru’s searching gaze from across the room. You register surprise across his face. Then he slowly makes his way through the crowd. There's something wet on your lips, and when you raise your hand there's a smear of blood on your fingers. You take a step back, stomach twisting into knots. You’ll walk.

You’ll walk.

You turn around, starting through the hotel lobby where cabs have begun to line the entrance and the streets outside. You'll feel bad later. You walk through it all. Once you get far away enough, you manage to flag an empty taxi down.

You don’t remember the car ride home. You enter your apartment and make it to your bed just as your legs buckle. You fall asleep in daze, wondering if the night was all just a bad dream.

[michictaa]

🗝️ – IT'S ALWAYS X AND Y, BUT WHY NOT U AND I?

"I'm serious about the word "I love you". If ever you don't think so, love me, because it's only u and i in this world.”

pairing : Wirth Madl x Reader

tags : childhood friends, fluff, more fluff, kissing (idk what else), academic trauma (LMAOOOOO), Wirth having a soft spot for you🫶

wc : 1,084

author’s note; I love him so much so much, I’m just gonna leave this here. I love him (art by @/rrokii42, their art is insanely crunchy!!)

“Checkmate, I win again.” Wirth snickered as you were left speechless, it was the third game of the night, lasting for 30 minutes per chess session. You were left bewildered. “And I wasn’t even taking it seriously, I was already giving clues. Are you really this bad or is it naturally because I’m better than you?,” He boasts once again. “I’m not that bad! It’s just that you have way more experience! Plus are we always just gonna play chess, the night’s still young.” you told him about it. Tilting his head, Wirth asked what exactly were you implying “Well, what do you even want to do?” “I don’t know, you decide.”

You and Wirth have been good friends for a while, simply because of your families having an amazing relationship. He knew all about you. You knew about him. He was always there for you during the times you were down or just couldn’t take it anymore, and so were you for him. People were honestly wondering why you two weren’t dating yet, and you did not know how to answer that question. You liked him so much, it was killing you. But you play it off pretty well, because he didn’t recognize it yet. He seemed so oblivious to you— wrong. He likes you so much. He visits you everyday at your dorm just to play chess with you because he likes your presence and he’ll never forget how your defeated face looks . He thinks it’s cute. He’ll also pretend not to get a math lesson just so you teach him for a few minutes straight because he likes hearing your voice, pulling you with that “I still don’t get it” card so you teach him all about it again so he hears your voice more. He also likes it when you comfort him, a lot. So much that he’ll keep his tears out of sight and once he’s with you— he starts crying. Because it was what he was used to growing up with you.

So it was safe to say that you both are oblivious to each other— not knowing what you two truly felt together. Wirth ultimately loves you, and so do you. But… You always sought ways for him to “like you back”. From anonymous letters, to sending him corny math jokes, bringing him lunch, showing your forbidden collection. It was already clear. A few days ago, Wirth read one of the jokes written on a piece of paper saying, “It’s always x and y, why not u and i?” Wirth was about to burst out laughing from what he just read till you ran at him like a mad gremlin, “Gimme that!” you snatched the paper from him as he burst out laughing while reading it once again. “Why so mad? I mean it was pretty funny after all, corny most of it.” Wirth chuckles at you, a blushing mess right now. You did try, but he made a laughing stock out of it— so you thought. He thinks to himself, why should he keep his feelings from you when the message is clear— you like him; too.

So, Wirth decides to visit you— a Friday night of all nights. Doing your usual, playing chess and eating sweets. Yet this night was different from all the others, you offered to do something else; new, Wirth thinks to himself. Nevertheless, he agreed. You were getting predictable anyways. He would do anything just to find another game to play with you rather than chess.

“Alright, let’s play something else.” Wirth concludes. “What else is there to play rather than chess? It’s literally the only thing we know how to play…” You sighed, he responded to you with a mundane tone. “Let’s just talk, maybe you know… Let it all go?” you chuckled at his words. “Maybe, it’s better than chess…” you smiled at him, Wirth sighed as he lay down on your bed. “Hey! I didn’t allow you to sleep on my bed!” you protested. “Your bed feels more comfortable. I can feel it…” “I don’t take excuses for granted, Wirth. Now get outta my bed ....”

“You already know that my dad’s mean, Wirth— why’d you gotta remind me?” you sighed as he responded, slightly chuckling, “Well, it just came to my mind, nothing special really.” He slowly moved closer to you, as his face was literally inches away from yours, he mumbled “You’re nothing like him. You’re nothing like anyone— at all. When dad used to play favorites on me and my brother, who did you like better?” “You, obviously. He kinda acts like a robot though..” you said jokingly. “But, Wirth. Just saying, no offense to him though.” Wirth bit his tongue, then suddenly laughed. “See, I knew you liked me better. Honestly, I hoped you did.” He chuckles, “This is getting insanely boring now. I want to do something.” He gestures himself closer to you. “Do you want to kiss?” He asked without hesitation. “What the heck? Are you out of your mind..?” You raised your eyebrow. “It’s to ease boredom! I swear I’m not gonna say anything after.” he responded. “Well, if it can ease boredom…”

You don’t know how you landed in this situation. Wirth was kissing you, you were seated on his lap with your arms over his shoulders. His lips brushed against yours as you two were trying to catch your breaths as you were entangled in your heated kiss. His lips felt like soft silk against yours as you felt a soft tickle on your nose. He pulled away after a while, then chuckled. “You truly love me, don’t you? Because I love you, so much.” You responded with a simple smile, more than enough for him. “I love you too, Wirth Madl.” You gleamed with joy.

"I'm serious about the word "I love you". If ever you don't think so, love me, because it's only u and i in this world.”

[loveysloveclub]

this is why we can’t have nice things - jamie drysdale

in which, here’s to my baby, he ain’t reading what they call me lately

soft sniffled echoed through the otherwise silent apartment as you sat on the couch in the living room. you had been home alone for the past few days, both trevor and jamie having been on a roadie. the apartment was dark, apart from your phone screen. twitter lit up the screen and even thought it was clearly bad for you, you couldn’t help but keep refreshing your tag.

horrible messages and untrue rumours. that’s all there was.

a good friend of yours had done an interview a few weeks back, and it had been released late last night. in this interview, she had completely trashed your name. and what’s worse? people believed her.

you knew in a few weeks it would all die down, and your management team had you on strict orders to nit respond to her claims. so you suffered in silence, all alone while you waited for your boyfriend and his best friend to get back from their trip.

they had won their game while away, so when you heard the keys rattling in the door of the apartment, you released one last sniffle before wiping away your remaining tears.

it was so dark in the apartment that neither would be able to see that you had been crying since the early hours of the morning.

trevor entered first, he had tried to be quiet but at the sight of you still awake, he dropped all his belongings loudly. “sup gracie.”

you smiled at the energetic boy, offering him a small wave. “nice goal, trev.” he winked at you before disappearing behind his bedroom door.

“i don’t think trev will ever stop hitting on you.” jamie groaned as he fell on top of your laid out body. his arms immediately snaked around you as he rested his face on your stomach. you laughed at his remark softly, but even you could tell the humour was half hearted.

your hands made your way to jamie’s hair as you began to comb your fingers through it. “how’ve you been? didn’t miss me too much?” you could hear the humour in his voice, and it tugged on a heart string to know you couldn’t be as happy as him in this moment.

“i’ve been okay, and you know i always miss you too much.” your voice broke, which you scolded yourself for. you still felt the urge to cry, but you tried to hold it in for the sake of your boyfriend. but jamie knew better, his head snapped up and you watched as his face crinkled in confusion as he inspected your own.

“you’ve been crying, why have you been crying?” he was climbing off you now, opting to sit across from you.

you took a deep breath before spilling the events of the past few days to him. he listened intently, as if it was the last thing you were ever going to say to him.

“why would she do that?” he asked, pulling you over to him as he wrapped you up in a hug. you shrugged you shoulders, “that’s not even the worse part. you should see what people are saying about me.”

you leaned over jamie to grab your discarded phone and began to open twitter. you didn’t get very far until the phone was plucked out of your hands and thrown to the other side of the couch where it would be forgotten.

“hey!”

“i don’t care what people are saying about you. i know you, gracie, i know none of it’s true.” jamie mumbled, pushing a few stray hairs out of your face. you smiled at his attempt to make you feel better, which it slightly did. you sighed before allowing your head to fall to his shoulder.

“people are so mean.”

“and trevs got mean twitter fingers, i’ll tell him to start running his fat mouth and all will be forgotten.” you laughed at his dig at his roommate, before said roommates door swung open.

“gracie! you have to see what that stupid bitch of a friend said about you in an interview!” trevor yelled as he jumped on the couch in between you and jamie. jamie rolled his eyes at his roommate, who wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “don’t worry, i got you girl.”

[hairstevington]

Stranger Therapy

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Based on this text post, Steve and Eddie match on Tinder and decide to go to couple's counseling on a first date to see how long it takes the therapist (Murray) to figure them out. Link to Ao3

Word Count: 3K, check out part 2 part 3 part 4 and epilogue!

Warnings: Nothing too serious, Steve/Eddie went to high school together but don't know each other, modern day AU, aged up, brief Robin cameo, Matchmaker Murray, and my fav tag of all - gay scheming!

A/N: I'm a counselor in training currently but I don't specialize in couple's counseling so this may or may not be accurate? Idk man it's just fun and silly I love our stupid boys sm. Original post by @hxneyfarms

It’s a match!

“Robin, it worked!” Steve shouted from the couch. She ran from the kitchen and joined him, peering over to stare at his screen.

“I told you it would! It’s funny!” she insisted. Steve rolled his eyes and anxiously pulled up the profile of his new match. 

“Oh, shit,” Steve said. “I remember swiping right on this guy. Didn’t think I had a shot.” He looked through the pictures. They were all candids, slightly blurry, or shots of him with his friends, but due to his distinguished look it was easy to pick him out even in a crowd. 

“Show me his bio,” Robin ordered. Steve closed out the pictures and scrolled until the bio was in full view.

Eddie, 25. Shit at bios.

“Well that’s kind of boring,” Steve said. 

“Yeah. You think he’s a bot?” Robin asked.

 “Or a catfish, maybe,” Steve mused. “Either way, I still think I should take your joke down. I don’t talk like that in real life, and people might get confused.”

Robin had convinced him earlier to change his bio and replace it with - let’s go to couple’s counseling and see how long it takes the therapist to realize we don’t know each other. Steve had been a little tipsy when he agreed, and he assumed nothing would come of it. But then, Eddie matched with him. 

“You’re thinking way too hard about this, Dingus,” Robin replied. “People write weird shit in their Tinder bios all the time.” 

“Eddie didn’t,” Steve countered. 

“Yeah, but look at him,” Robin responded. “He’s distinctive. It’s attention-grabbing in itself.”

“And I’m not?” Steve asked. Robin chuckled.

“You’re the kind of pretty where if you don’t have something witty in the bio, people will think you’re just some ignorant surface-level airhead who’s never worked a day in his life, and that’s not cute.”

“Okay, ouch,” Steve said. 

“It’s a compliment!” she insisted. “Like, you need to show that you’re witty and funny and able to poke fun at yourself, otherwise you’re going to attract the wrong kind of people.”

“And this guy’s the right kind, huh?” Steve opened one of the pictures back up - one where Eddie was passed out on the couch with a beer still in his hand. As they looked at the screen, a notification popped up. Eddie sent you a message.

“Let’s find out,” Robin said. 

-

Eddie: If your bio is serious, I’m in

Steve: Wait, really?

Eddie: Yeah xD sounds fun

Eddie: You got a therapist in mind?

Steve: Honestly didn’t think I’d get this far

Eddie: Boo. 

Eddie: You’re lucky I know just the guy

Steve: Okay…

Steve: So how do we do this?

Eddie: Dude, it was YOUR idea

Steve: Ok but I’ve never done it before!

Eddie: Steve! I’m your first? <3

Steve: Yeah, yeah. I’ve never pranked a therapist before. 

Eddie: I hope you’re either rich or have really good insurance. Otherwise this is gonna be an expensive first date.

Steve: I got it covered. 

Eddie: I figured you did. I’ll call the guy in the morning and get back to you with the appointment time. 

Steve: Okay. How’s your night going by the way?

Eddie: Nope!

Eddie: That’s not part of the deal, Steve. We go into this blind or not at all.

Steve: This is insane.

Eddie: Once again, your idea. I’m excited. Are you excited?

Steve: Thrilled.

Steve: I’m still concerned about how you know the perfect guy for this.

Eddie: 😛

Eddie: Don’t worry about it.

-

“I don’t even think he’s serious,” Steve said after he recounted the entire interaction to Robin.

“I don’t know, Steve. Sounds serious to me.” 

“What if he’s like - not right in the head?” Steve wondered, reading the interaction over and over again. “Like, who is this therapist and why does he know him? Is he actually going to make an appointment? What if this whole thing crashes and burns?”

“I honestly think he plans on it crashing and burning,” Robin replied. “And then after, the both of you either hit it off and laugh about it forever, or you have an amazing failed date story to tell your friends until the end of time.”

“That’s…actually genius.” 

“I know.” 

Steve read the messages one last time, focusing on the bits where Eddie was mildly flirtatious. Steve! I’m your first? He could tell if Eddie was being condescending, or what vibe he was going to bring to this absolute insane first date. But, as Robin said, it would be a story no matter what. 

He tried to focus on that and not the anxiety that started brewing in his veins.

-

The appointment was set for two weeks later. Eddie still refused to talk to Steve other than for details on where to go and at what time, so for the whole fourteen days, Steve assumed he was being pranked right back. Eddie was messing with him, or he’d cancel, or Dr. Bauman didn’t actually exist, or he’d be murdered, or, or, or -

None of that happened. Instead, on a Tuesday afternoon, Steve pulled up to an office building about fifteen minutes from his apartment. He’d passed by it several times and never once wondered what went on inside. 

Apparently, really weird first dates.

They had decided to meet up in the parking lot and walk in together. The whole thing was crazy, but having one of them pick the other up so they could drive in together was way over what was needed to commit to the bit. 

Steve got there first. They needed to be fifteen minutes early to fill out paperwork. It was twenty minutes prior to their appointment time. 

This was weird. It felt a lot different than all the times he’d met someone for coffee. In another world, that’s how he and Eddie would have met. But no. He had to agree to this stupid thing, and now he was too far into it to back out. Jesus Christ. 

Eddie’s car pulled in a few spaces down. Steve knew it was him from the hair alone - unmistakable. He got out of his car and walked towards his date, his palms sweaty. Eddie got out of his car a moment later, eyeing Steve as he approached him and smirking. 

“What gave me away?” Eddie asked. 

“You think I wouldn’t recognize my boyfriend?” Steve snapped back, pleased at the way he was able to take Eddie off guard. 

“Touche. Well, come on, then. Let’s do this.” 

-

Before they knew it, they were sitting in a cramped waiting room, alone, filling out paperwork. It consisted of insurance information first, followed by names and some quick background questions about the “couple.” Steve began filling it out, thankful that he was still on his dad’s fancy rich-person insurance. It covered basically everything, even fucked-up couples fraud with Dr. Bauman.

“Are you not worried I’m gonna, like, steal your information or something?” Eddie asked as Steve wrote down his policy number.

“I mean…should I be?” Steve responded. 

“No,” Eddie answered with a shrug. “I gotta say, though, you’re way more trusting than I am. It’s ballsy. I like it.” 

“Uhh…” Steve was trying to concentrate on the paperwork, but the compliment was throwing him off. “Thank you, I think.” He continued filling out the paperwork.

“You’re from Hawkins?” he asked. Steve nodded, absentmindedly. “I’m from Hawkins.” This caught Steve’s attention. 

“No shit.” 

“Yeah, seriously.”

“Small world,” Steve replied before turning his attention back to the form.

“You have a cute middle name,” Eddie teased. 

“Shut up,” Steve responded. He wanted to find Eddie’s pestering annoying, but instead he found himself smirking, even giggling a little bit. This whole thing was so ridiculous. He shoved the clipboard onto Eddie’s lap. “Your turn, lover.”

“Euch,” Eddie groaned. “That is not one of our pet names, no way.” 

“Noted,” Steve chuckled. He was…kind of enjoying this way more than he expected, as weird as it was. He’d grown accustomed to a lot of even stranger things in his life, so this didn’t feel as shocking as he’d initially thought. 

“Don’t look,” Eddie said as he covered the paper.

“What? Why not?” Steve asked, confused. 

“Because not all of us are as blindly trusting, Steven,” Eddie responded. Steve shook his head and looked away. 

“Good thing we’re in therapy to work that shit out, Edward Munson.”

“You looked!” Eddie exclaimed. 

“It was right in front of me!” Steve pointed out. 

“Fair enough,” Eddie sighed. “Okay, now we gotta put down a reason for doing this.”

-

Fast forward ten minutes, Eddie and Steve were seated next to each other on a relatively small but cozy burnt orange couch. The color was ugly, but the seats were comfortable. Steve noticed the cushions had a natural dip that kept inching him closer to the person sitting on the opposite side. He figured this was certainly intentional. 

The doctor sat in front of them, reviewing the papers the pair had just filled out.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Bauman, and one day I may let you call me Murray,” he began, his eyes fixed on the papers in front of him. “I see here on your sheet that you’ve been feeling distant from each other, and that you’re looking to feel more connected, right? Can you tell me more about that?”

“We’re just launching right into it, huh?” Eddie asked. 

“Well, we are on a time crunch here. Your decision how you spend it,” Dr. Bauman answered. 

The man was immediately intimidating.

“Ooookay,” Steve said, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess it just feels like - like he and I don’t even know each other anymore.” Eddie stifled a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand to make it seem like he was maybe getting emotional or perhaps trying not to sneeze. 

“I see,” Dr. Bauman said, eyeing them both suspiciously. “Let’s begin with how you two met and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“We were high school sweethearts,” Eddie replied with a grin.

“Wow,” Dr. Bauman commented. “Well, it’s common for a lot of development to happen from then to now. How did you two get together?” Eddie looked to Steve, as if to say, you’re up.

“It just kinda…happened, I guess,” Steve began. “We were assigned as partners for a project and really clicked.”

“Yeah, and then we snuck around for a while. Sneaking kisses in janitor's closets and empty classrooms, you know the drill.” Steve tried not to blush at the thought of sneaking around with high school Eddie. If they were both from Hawkins, did they actually go to high school together?

“Snuck around for the thrill?” Dr. Bauman asked.

“No,” Steve responded. “I wasn’t out yet.” Eddie looked at him curiously, as if he wasn’t expecting Steve to say something so serious. He wondered if it was actually true. 

“Well, that and -” Eddie added. “- he was a popular jock and I was kind of a freak.” This time, Steve looked at Eddie curiously. Steve was a popular jock. Eddie could have assumed that, or made a lucky guess, but something told him that wasn’t the case. 

Eddie Munson. Munson. 

Oh.

Oh!

It took Steve a minute to recover from that information. They did in fact go to school together, they just had never interacted. Eddie obviously remembered, and he obviously knew that Steve didn’t. So what was the goal here? Was Steve being punked or something just so Eddie could get free therapy?

“Steve, you look a little pale there,” Dr. Bauman noticed. “Did that trigger something?”

“Yeah -” Steve croaked, now unable to look at Eddie. If he had, he would have noticed Eddie didn’t look as smug as Steve assumed he was. “Yeah, I just don’t think about high school that much anymore.”

“Why not?” the doctor asked. 

“Because, I - I’ve changed so much since then. I’m not that guy anymore, and I don’t want to be that guy.”

“Ah, I see,” he hummed. “So, Eddie fell for someone who no longer exists. I think I’m understanding the problem here. Eddie, do you feel that you’ve changed?”

Damn. This guy’s kinda good.

“Uhhh -” Eddie began. Neither of them expected this to get so serious so quickly. It didn’t even feel like it was about their imagined relationship anymore. “N-no, I don’t think I have.”

“And Steve, do you think Eddie has changed?”

Steve thought about the limited memories he had of Eddie in high school. Cocky, slightly unhinged, just as he was now. But there was something different, he just couldn’t really pinpoint what. Maybe if he’d talked to Eddie for longer than like ten minutes total in his life, he’d have a better idea. 

Then, he realized the point of this wasn’t to be serious. It was to make shit up. Steve pivoted back to the original plan. 

“Yeah, I mean -” He shifted in his seat, finding himself now thigh to thigh with Eddie, despite not meaning to be. “He’s, uh - it just feels like we don’t have anything in common anymore?” It was something he’d heard lots of couples say.

“Do you want to make this work?” Dr. Bauman asked. 

“Why else would we be here?” Eddie answered. Dr. Bauman narrowed his eyes. 

“You tell me.”

Eddie and Steve were kind of not good at this. Their story was based in truth and not very exciting. They both seemed to realize this at the same time.

“Steve slept with the dogwalker,” Eddie proclaimed. Steve scoffed, half-amused, half-offended. 

“Yeah, well you sold drugs to my mom!” he shot back. The two guys looked at each other, pretending to look angry while simultaneously wanting to laugh. 

“Woooah, there,” Dr. Bauman responded. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Do we want to begin with Steve’s infidelity or Eddie’s illegal activity?”

“That’s not gonna, like, go on record or anything, right?” Steve asked, suddenly anxious. “Like, the cops aren’t gonna show up at Eddie’s door?”

“Our door, babe,” Eddie clarified, not the least bit nervous. 

“Depends on how long ago this happened, I suppose,” Dr. Bauman answered.

“Long time ago,” Eddie said. 

“Are you still currently dealing?”

“No, I don’t even do drugs anymore. Well, like, except pot - but that’s legal now so it doesn’t really count, I think.”

“Dude,” Steve whispered. 

“You brought it up,” Eddie replied just as softly. 

“Right,” Dr. Bauman responded, taking it all in. “No report needed, then. Let’s move onto the dogwalker.” 

They continued to add to their lore as the appointment went on. At one point, Eddie even faked tears. His acting was…decent enough to avoid suspicion, thankfully. When the clock hit 1:45, their time was up, and they’d successfully managed to fool Dr. Bauman. Mission accomplished, date over. Right?

“Well, thank you so much, Dr. Bauman,” Eddie said. “I think you’ve really helped us out today.”

“Yeah, seriously,” Steve said, smiling. “We feel so much better.”

“Now hold on a minute,” Dr. Bauman said with his hands up. “There’s still a lot of work to be done, in my professional opinion.”

“There is?” Eddie asked, confused. 

“Oh, definitely. Most couples go to a minimum of four sessions, and that’s still a low average. Plus, this was only intake. I mean, unless you guys weren’t happy with the counseling I gave you today…”

It felt like a challenge, and Eddie loved challenges. Meanwhile, Steve was too awkward to come clean or tell the doctor they weren’t interested. 

They made another appointment.

-

“Well, that went pretty well, I think,” Eddie said as they left the building. 

“You knew me already?” Steve asked once they were a safe enough distance from the office and Dr. Bauman. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just knew your name and face, man. And, like, your vibe,” Eddie answered. “Back in high school, anyway.” 

“You should have told me,” Steve said. 

“You should have remembered,” Eddie shot back. “Whatever, it was fun. Right?”

“Eddie, I have no idea what that was,” Steve replied. “We have to cancel that appointment.”

“Why? You don’t want to see me again?” Eddie grinned. Steve rolled his eyes.

“No, I - I mean, I don’t want to waste his time. That spot should go to other couples who need it. Meanwhile, we could go get coffee like normal adults.” 

“I dunno,” Eddie said, kicking a pebble in the road as they walked. “I kinda liked it. You can’t tell me you didn’t.”

It was true. Steve couldn’t say that he didn’t.

“Doesn’t matter.” Steve unlocked his car and made his way to the door. “We’re canceling.”

“He’s the one that wanted to see us again, Steve,” Eddie reminded him. 

“Yeah, because he thought we were an actual couple.” Steve was getting frustrated at Eddie’s antics, and the way he refused to back down. “I don’t know if this is gonna work, man. This has been, uh - well, it’s been weird, but I think -”

“We have to go, otherwise you’ll be charged a cancellation fee,” Eddie blurted out. It was a lie, a bold-faced lie, and yet -

“So, I’ll pay the fee. Can’t be more than the cost of a full session,” Steve figured. 

“Ugh!” Eddie groaned in frustration. “Okay, fine. Look - I’m annoying as hell, I’m a mess, I’m broke, and I could never afford someone like Dr. Bauman. I don’t know about you, but some of the things he said actually made me think and I kind of want to ask him about, like, real shit.” 

Steve stared at him blankly for a minute. 

“You - you want me to keep going to fake couple’s counseling with you so you can get actual therapy?” Steve asked, stunned. 

“I mean, you could work your shit out, too,” Eddie suggested.

“What shit? I don’t have shit,” Steve insisted. 

“Of course you do! Everyone does!” Eddie yelled. 

“You’re insane,” Steve muttered. The thing was, he wasn’t saying it out of anger. He was saying it in understanding. 

Because the thing was, Eddie had a point. Dr. Bauman was good at what he did, and Steve knew he’d never sign up for individual counseling. He already had the appointment. Eddie smirked. 

“You’re with me, aren’t you?”

Fuck.

“Fine,” Steve agreed. 

-

Notes from Dr. Bauman - 3/18

Eddie and Steve

Together since high school

Feelings of disconnect

Steve/dogwalker

Eddie/mom/drugs

Clearly lying

Clients are faking their relationship for me, for some reason. Will continue to work with them to figure out why. 

They aren’t dating…but they should be

(next chapter)

------------------------------------

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[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

꧁༺ 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 ༻꧂

Listen, I know I have like 8008 wips right now but we don’t need to talk about that. What we do need to talk about is Janny angst, and I’m here to supply in the form of Jake confessing to Danny at a Halloween party and Danny not knowing how to respond. Hope you enjoy!

Pairings: Jake Kiszka X Danny Wagner *slasher

Warnings and tags: 18+ only! Please consider all of my work to not be suitable for minors at this point, unrequited love, angst, Halloween party, brief mentions of sexual activity (Sam and OC), drinking, making decisions while under the influence, sharing a bed, literally one singular kiss

Word count: 2.7k

I’m sorry Jake, but I don’t think I can like you that way.

His response rattled around in his head for the rest of the evening while the rest of the party raged on around him. Why did he say that of all things? Honestly, it was the best excuse he could think of on the spot.

Jake had just caught him off guard. Didn’t corner him or anything, didn’t speak in a way that made Danny feel like this was actually a big deal or not. Danny couldn’t help but keep replaying the interaction over in his mind, thinking of ways he could have responded differently. It got to the point he couldn’t even decipher which memory was real anymore or which was just a scenario hoping for a better outcome.

It had been nearly three hours ago. Danny was the first one to arrive, having brought over some last minute things Sam had text him to pick up on his way. Jake answered the door, quickly offering to take some of the many shopping bags Danny held in his hands and brought them along to the kitchen.

“Where’s Sam?” Danny asked immediately, not thinking anything of it.

Jake’s brows furrowed for only a second, or had they? Danny wasn’t exactly sure now that he tried to recall each detail.

“He went to go pick up Cheyanne” Jake answered as he started to dig into the bags.

“So he expects us to just set up his own party for him?” Danny scoffed, and he did remember the way Jake cracked a smile. Jake always smiled when he said something snarky or witty.

It wasn’t long after they finished setting everything out. They were just waiting around for more people to show up, or Sam and his girlfriend to make it back. Danny was on his phone leaning against the island in the kitchen when Jake slowly approached and placed his hands on top of the granite across from him.

He knew Jake didn’t just come outright and say it, but how the conversation started exactly alluded him now. First Jake asked him if he’d been seeing anyone interesting lately, and Danny simply answered no without looking up from his phone. How could he when the band kept him so busy? He was surprised Josh and Sam found the time to date, but then again even though they put a lot of effort into it the band just didn’t mean the same thing to them as it did him and Jake. Even when they weren’t rehearsing they were constantly messaging each other, sending back and forth clips of chords they were working on together.

When Jake finally worked up the courage to ask him, Danny thought for a moment that he couldn’t be serious.

“Would you want to hang out sometime? Go, I don’t know, see a movie or something?”

“Sure,” Danny finally locked his phone and stuffed it back into his pocket. “I thought you didn’t like movie theaters though?”

Jake might have blushed at that point, his fingers idly poking at the flakes of quartz sealed into the countertop. “I mean, that’s usually where you go when asking someone out on a date, so”.

“Oh”. Danny stood up straight, blinking a few times as he watched Jake for any sort of indication that he was just joking. It was hard to take him seriously when he was standing there in his Halloween costume, dressed as a pirate with the flowy blouse exposing the chains that adorned his chest, and a bandana tied around his freshly trimmed shoulder length waves still a little damp from the shower. Danny felt silly himself when he left his house in his cowboy get up, almost forgetting his hat in the passenger seat of his car because he didn’t want to wear it in the grocery store.

“Can we talk about this later?” That was one of the responses he could have given, but he knew that would have only made Jake’s anxiety spike. He chose to ask him now, who knows how long he had already been waiting?

He watched as a few different expressions flashed across Jake’s features before finally settling on something Danny was unable to read. “Is it Sam?”

“What?” Danny questioned a little defensively. “Sam is with Chey”.

“I know he is” Jake quickly continued, “but just knowing someone is off limits doesn’t stop you from feeling certain ways”.

Danny got his double meaning. Jake must’ve known there was a lot riding on this, but he chose to ask anyway. It made Danny’s heart pound even now as he thought back on it. If it were him in Jake’s shoes, he didn’t know if he would have been able to do it.

Jake finally accepted his answer and they awkwardly agreed that this didn’t need to change anything between them, they could just go back to being close friends, band mates, until Sam and Josh bound through the front door.

The party only got more and more loud and unruly as more and more people showed up, crowding every room on the ground floor of the townhouse. Danny stood idly by in the living room, having been abandoned in his conversation with Sam as he made out with his girlfriend on the couch.

He sighed and left for the kitchen to make another drink, not really feeling the party after the whirlwind of emotions from earlier. Jake had made himself scarce, no doubt hiding out on the back patio where it had to be quieter. Going to find him drifted through his mind, but he figured that probably wasn’t the best solution to his boredom considering the way they’d left things. If only there was a way he could go back and say something else. Anything else.

The statement wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. Danny didn’t know if he could like Jake that way because he had never thought about it before. Now though, now that he knew how Jake felt it sparked a tingling inside him. Like the time when he played his first successful copy riff on the guitar, or when he was asked to join the band.

When he returned to the living room, Jake had emerged. His was the first presence Danny caught from across the room despite his small size. Jake quickly shifted his gaze to avoid eye contact, but he continued to smile softly as he listened to the person in front of him talking.

Danny wanted to make his way across, past the couch with the happy couple still on it, and join in on the conversation but instead he kept his distance. Continuously he found himself looking back in Jake’s direction though, who didn’t once glance his way again. Or if he did sneak a peak Danny didn’t notice, but that seemed unlikely considering the amount of times he had his eyes on the other man.

Finally after midnight the house started to clear out and the familiar quiet of Sam’s place returned. With the living room at least a little picked up Danny decided to call it a night and climbed the stairs to retrieve his change in clothes and toothbrush from Sam’s room, but inches away from the door he heard what was inside. Soft moans, the repetitive squeaking of a mattress in motion.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” Danny whispered with a groan, leaning his head back against the far fall and staring at the door in frustration.

Seconds later, the door to the upstairs bathroom creaked open and out stepped Jake in his pajamas with rings of smeared eyeliner still clinging to his waterline.

“Hey” Danny waved, trying not to scare him.

Jake jumped anyway, having expected everyone to have gone home by now.

“What ar-”

Danny cut him off with a finger to his lips, then pointed at Sam’s door. “My things are in there”.

Still clutching his chest, Jake’s eyes darted over, then he heard it too. “Oh”.

His voice came out in a matching hushed tone now. “Were you supposed to be crashing here?”

“Yeah, I’m just going to sleep on the couch downstairs. Would’ve liked to change and brush my teeth first though”. Danny’s tongue ran across the face of his teeth, feeling the sugary coating of all the mixed drinks he’d consumed throughout the night sticking to their surface. He pushed off the wall and started to walk towards Jake who instinctively backed away. “Guess I’ll just find some mouthwash in the bathroom or something”.

Jake stepped aside and allowed him to pass, their shoulders bumping slightly in the narrow hallway. After swishing with a nearly empty bottle of Listerine and washing his face with some cool water from the sink, Danny shut off the light to the bathroom and gave up on trying to retrieve any of his items from Sam’s room. For a brief moment he debated on just trying to go home, but he had definitely had a few too many ‘beverages’ as Josh liked to call it to believe it was safe. He snuck his way back down the hallway, trying not to disturb any of the rooms’ occupants, but when he reached the top of the stairs he heard a door creaking open.

“Danny” a voice carried through the dark. It wasn’t Sam, he usually preferred to use his full name for whatever reason.

Danny turned to see Jake standing in the hallway again, waiting until he had his attention to disappear back into his room again only to pop back out with a stack of clothes. “These should work for the night”.

“Thanks” Danny graciously took the shirt and pants, examining them in his hands, they certainly looked comfier than his silly western jeans and button up.

“I’m sorry, the couch downstairs is really uncomfortable” Jake folded one of his arms across his chest, his hand gripping just above his elbow.

Danny thought back on how Sam and his girlfriend had spent most of the night making out there before deciding to take it further in the bedroom. He shuddered at the thought of trying to stretch out in the same place, that paired with all the other thoughts he already had racing around up there meant it was likely to be a long night. “Yeah, I don’t really expect to get much sleep”.

He could tell Jake was running through scenarios in his own head now, internally trying to calculate what his next move would be, until finally he spoke again. “You don’t have to, I wouldn’t be hurt at all if you said no, but if you wanted, I mean I have a king size bed so…”. His words came out in a stumbling slur, like every which way he had thought of asking jumbled together into one hardly coherent sentence.

“Umm” Danny gathered enough to understand what it was Jake was offering, and usually he wouldn’t think anything of sharing a bed with a friend, but after earlier he stopped to consider how that might translate.

“It doesn’t have to be weird or anything” Jake added, “I’ll stay on one side. I have an extra blanket. Just don’t want to see you suffering down there”.

It warmed Danny’s heart to see how much Jake cared, even with the reveal of his hidden feelings, Jake was always a generous person. He liked caring for people, and Danny trusted that this was just another example of how Jake always looked out after him.

“Yeah, alright, guess it would be nice to actually get some sleep”.

Jake nodded and Danny followed him into his room. He hadn’t been staying with Sam for long, ever since Josh and his partner got serious and he offered to move out so they could have a bit more privacy. For now he was living in Sam’s spare bedroom because it didn’t make sense to sign a lease anywhere right before they were about to go on another long stint of touring.

Danny looked around, even with the short amount of time he’d been here the space already felt unique to him. Guitars were scattered about, some on stands and some just propped up against the wall or dresser. He watched as Jake made his way back to his side of the bed, the covers pulled back like he’d been waiting to hear Danny emerge from the bathroom, and then he realized he still needed to change.

Jake picked up the book he’d turned over on the page he was at and stuffed his bookmark inside before setting it on his nightstand and clicking the small lamp off. He crawled back into bed but looked up to see Danny frozen in place staring down at the clothes in his arms.

Oh god. He doesn’t feel comfortable around me anymore. Jake beat himself up, not exactly regretting trying to make his move, but still worried Danny might act differently around him now, and not in a good way. Trying to pretend like he didn’t notice Danny’s hesitance, Jake shifted down into a lying position, tucking his hand underneath his head and closing his eyes to try and feign sleep.

After a few minutes and the quiet rustling of clothing, the bed beside him dipped and he felt Danny lay down next to him.

It wasn’t the first time they had shared a bed, more than likely wouldn’t be close to the last either. Certainly, it also wasn’t the first time Jake felt his heart fluttering at the thought of how close Danny was, yet still so far away.

Time passed slowly, Jake could feel the seconds ticking on with each thump against his chest. He squeezed his eyes closed tighter, trying to resist the urge to open them and check to see if Danny was still awake too. His answer came in the form of a warm hand sliding across the sheets, stopping just a mere centimeter from where his head rested on his pillow.

Jake dared a look, and when he did he was met with the overwhelming sight of Danny’s radiant irises. Greens bursting from brown in a way that captivated anyone who got close enough to witness their magic first hand. And captivated Jake was.

“Danny I-” Jake attempted to correct whatever it was that had settled between them. He couldn’t apologize for his feelings, but he could at least attempt to explain himself in a way that Danny might understand.

That was all cut short though, because Danny’s hand reached further, coming to rest on Jake’s cheek. Danny inched closer in the bed, waiting a moment for any signs of reservations from Jake who was caught frozen in his touch.

Without another word muttered between them Danny leaned in and pressed their lips together. It was an odd feeling at first. He had never kissed another man before, not that he had anything against it. But kissing Jake? Even he was shocked at his actions.

Jake parted his lips slightly to let out a content exhale and slotted Danny's bottom lip between his own. He took command of the kiss, knowing full well that Danny was probably still feeling lingering effects from the alcohol. Should he have instigated a more intense kiss in return? The answer was definitely not, but Jake feared this might be his only chance to feel what it was like to have his feelings reciprocated, so he greedily took all he could get.

In an instant Jake stole Danny’s breath, and in the same aching heartbeat Danny pulled away.

They laid there in silence, staring at each other through the dark as they both searched each other’s eyes for the answers to their unspoken questions.

Even if those answers were to remain shrouded in the darkness of this bedroom, they would always share this moment. Jake clung on to that sentiment as he closed his eyes again, forcing his breathing to steady out and for sleep to pull him under.

“Good night Jake” Danny whispered in the end, leaving it to fate to decide whether or not Jake heard him.

Tags: @scarletvanfleet @kultavalo