#stop making people go through it and then be fine!

[madamechrissy]

Escort! Satoru- part five

Pairings- Escort Satoru Gojo x shy CEO F! reader

Warnings- mutual pining like a mf, obsessed ass/whipped ass Gojo, mutual pining, lots of yearninggg, kissing (I KNOW YAYYY) dry humping, teasing, fingering, public play, fluffy and cute- there will be a part six! (final) pretty woman vibes 🤭

<<<Part Four

Escort! Satoru finally does it, he asks you on that date, watching the shock in your eyes, the trembling of your lips as you step back, and Satoru feels it then, the hammering of his heart. Is it too late? Should he have reached out again to you after the first night, when you didn't answer? His blue eyes peer at you over those glasses, as the sunlight beats down on your skin, making his cheeks just a little reddened, striking across his pale skin.

Escort! Satoru eases his hands gently off your face, when you swallow nervously - he hurt you so badly that night, the embarrassment of asking him to hold you, dying for a mere kiss on the lips. How could you be so foolish, truly, you had to try to forget him in any way you could, after sleeping with him and knowing he would never be yours, always sharing him, he was just there because of your money and maybe he enjoyed it. But it wasn't more.

Escort! Satoru realizes how much he fucking missed you now, as if some void is filled by your presence, but you lower his hands gently, holding them for a moment. 'I was so...' stupid, you were stupid 'I'm very sorry I asked you for things you never do,' you sigh, looking around, seeing people walk by. 'I should have respected your-' Satoru stops you then, tilting your chin up, your gaze focused on him. 'I should have held you, okay? I'm sorry...' you feel your eyes fill with the tears, as words you've dreamed of are spoken, and they feel just like that- a dream. 'I want a real date, could we?'

Escort! Satoru eyes you when your phone rings, and you look down nervously. 'I have a date tonight, the first in... years' Satoru steps back now, glaring at you. 'With who?' you blink in surprise. 'Why does it matter to you? Do you think after months I wouldn't ever wanna try?' Satoru grips your wrist, thumb brushing against the veins gently, sending shivers down your spine, as he tries to compose himself, he has no right to be so mad, so jealous. 'Fine, then give me a date after' he murmurs, desperate for you, how can he see you and not try? After everything he's been yearning for appears before him, and he knows how badly he fucked up. 'I don't know...' you want to, god you do, but you also know how badly Satoru can hurt you, uniquely. 'Please just, give me a chance to explain myself, to be myself and not...' he trails off, the wind blows gently and a little blossom lands on your hair, which he sweetly brushes away. 'One chance'

Escort! Satoru is furious thinking about anyone touching you, though it's toxic and unrealistic in every aspect. His job was to touch, though he'd throw it all away if you asked, god he would, because he doesn't find joy in any of it. No amount of money fills this emptiness, but he never thought he'd have a chance with you - only to ruin it. 'I'll go out with you this weekend, but you pick the place, and pick me up' you say softly, his heart thuds as he nods eagerly, desperate and pathetic for you - something he's never been until you ruined him with just your energy, your body, that laugh he'd love to have back. Memories of your night fill him then, as he aches to touch you, to know you, to kiss you.

Escort! Satoru plans the date to a tee, but the whole time he's wondering - where are you going, and with who? Would you prefer them over him? Meanwhile you're trying to get through that date, mind wandering, you just tried to open up for the first time since Satoru broke your heart - even if it was your own fault. You try to smile, and enjoy him, a handsome man that surely was perfect on paper, and interested in you. As the night goes on and the drinks pour, you think to yourself, you should try, letting him kiss you at the end of the evening, wondering what you'll feel. It's nice, but it's nothing like just being near Satoru. Frustrated almost to tears, you're laying in bed that night, as the man in your head that you almost pushed down enough, is back front and center.

Escort! Satoru can't stand it, knowing you're on a date, he almost texts you so many times before he caves - 'ready for our date?'- he smirks, hoping your with whoever it was. But you don't answer him for hours, until you finally write him - yes - and that's it, no sweet banter like the two of you had. It's different, had you really already moved on? He trembles as he texts you - 'how was the date?' - and you write - 'it was fine, any jobs tonight? - and that's when he realizes you're mad. The sweetest girl he met is so clearly mad. He hadn't taken a job tonight, and he's cancelled his week, but he gets it clearly. - 'no job tonight, I'm excited to see you' - He's never said that to anyone. You heart the message, emotions catching, excitement but apprehension in equal parts, you just don't know if he's serious, you're so scared to let go again.

Escort! Satoru picks you up that night in his car, some little Maserati sports car that looks like it goes way too fast. You can't act like he's not sexy as fuck as he steps out of it, opening your door and grinning at you, but you try to hold back, smiling with a 'thank you' as you slide in next to him. Satoru's hand craves to press on your thigh, but fuck if he's not nervous, he hasn't had a date since he started this career despite his job being to go on dates, not a real one, not with someone he asked. He's damn near shaking with his nerves, trying to play it off, as he drives through the quiet streets, smiling over at you with a quirk of his lips. 'You look beautiful' his words make you flustered, nervously tugging a bit on the gorgeous dress you're wearing, glittering like the stars in the sky - fuck your very skin itself glitters. 'you're saying it truly this time?'

Escort! Satoru glares now, foot on his break, scowling at you. 'what do you mean truly? you think I didn't mean any of it?' you blink back unexpected tears, looking out the dark tinted window as he drives once more. 'It was your job, that's all, and I told you I took it too far, you shouldn't feel bad that happened. I - ah!' he skids to a stop suddenly, pulling off the side of the road, and unbuckling your seatbelt so fast you can barely register. He's got you on his lap so fast, as cars whirl by, shaking the fucking car and shocking you further, as he handles you like it's nothing. You brace your hands on his chest, so nervous now, hands clenching the black jacket of his tux, breaths faster and faster. 'You are beautiful, I never said that because of a job' he swipes away your tears, lips hovering over yours, as he exhales, breath tickling your lips. 'What are you doing, Satoru?' your whisper is weak, as he drags you even closer, and his eyes dart to your lips. 'What I should have done that night'

Escort! Satoru slams his lips on yours then and there, you feel it like hot, electric shots going through your body when he does, when he's pressing those plush, glossy lips on yours, and you're shattering over him, lost in his kiss. Satoru has never felt anything like it, like finally kissing you, his tongue slipping in your mouth, drinking up your every cry, every gasp, as you roll your hips just right, and he feels the heat he's been dying for against his aching cock. 'Fuck...' his hushed words are met with your little cry, which just has him dragging you down harder, ready to devour every sweet inch of you, but barely being able to drag himself from your lips, gasping as he pulls back, eyes meeting yours, glimmering now. 'Satoru you... kissed me...' you're close to crying now, trembling as he sighs, cupping your pretty face, the one that's haunted him. 'I've wanted to since I first saw you'

Escort! Satoru keeps kissing you, over and over, desperate and messy, you almost cum just from that friction against you, his teeth sinking into your lower lip, as his huge hands press into your skin. 'I need you, fuck I need you sweetheart- god you have no clue' you're easing back, struggling to compose yourself. 'Am I so VIP?' you tease softly, and he feels it then, the soft way you're asking - not judging, but scared. He exhales, resting his head on yours, shaking his head and pulling you down again. 'I'll gladly delete my whole fucking profile, for a chance with you' his words sink in fully. Your cheeks are hot under his gentle touch. 'I just don't... Satoru, you don't have to do this for me. I understand...' He kisses you once more, before your phone rings.

Escort! Satoru glares, and you can't help but giggle. 'Are you jealous?' he just sets his jaw, as you look over and see it, holding the phone with a shaky hand, and he pulls you harder on his cock, having your eyes roll back in your skull. 'Tell him you're on a date' he whispers, gripping you so tight, before easing you to sit back in your seat, kissing you over and over. 'Let's get there, okay?' you're trying to compose yourself, seeing him shift and wince while he drives once more, pouting. 'You enjoying my pain, sweets?' you can't help but giggle again. The date is pretty and serene, the restaraunt on the roof top, swathed in moonlight. Satoru feeds you carefully, the two of you sharing dessert, talking and laughing like the first time he fucking met you - when he knew then, something was so special about you, something he could never pin fully, but he sees it, with how the candle light hits your face, your sweet blush as his hand slips up your thigh.

Escort! Satoru is not happy to learn you've had a kiss, and your amused little smile is quickly lost, when he slips his fingers between your thighs, and you wildly look around, as he smirks at you. 'That's cute, you kissed? did you like that?' he's taunting now, possessive gaze, that you can't get enough of, fuck you want all of him, even though you're scared, so scared to be hurt again. He's pressing his fingers against your panties, which are soaked, watching as your eyes get lidded, hand gripping the thick white cloth, and he slips under then, feeling the heat he'd been dying for, leaning in close. 'Asked you a question, hmm?' you lean closer, hips shifting, jerking as he thumbs your twitchy little clit, making you gush. 'Would you be mad if I liked it, Satoru?' he sighs, slipping two fingers in your slick hole, making you almost moan in the fucking restaurant now. 'You're wet for me, aren't you, all me?' He's curling them now, acting so casual as a waitress refills your wine, and you pray no one hears the squishing noises your juices are making.

Escort! Satoru can't help but suck you off his fingers, right before he makes you cum, and you're throbbing around nothing, wanting. You're clenching your teeth as you watch, as if he's finishing his dessert- and when he tastes you again!? He can barely control himself, eyes dilated while you sink into his tastebuds, ready to finally give you what you want, and need, and deserve, fuck you so good you can't function, and hold and kiss you. Satoru slips his lips on yours in front of the restaurant, and you taste yourself, whining into his lips. Suddenly a girl sees him, a frequent client who'd gotten too obsessed, and walks right up to him, crossing her arms. He eases back in the seat, as you look down shyly, unsure of who she is. 'I'm on a date' his words make your heart flutter now, as she glares. 'ah, so you do kiss? was this some special package, do you know how expensive you are?' you bite back a smile, and Satoru just grins, shaking his head like a little shit. 'It's different, she's my girlfriend.'

Escort! Satoru blushes when you whisper 'your girlfriend, huh?' in his ear moments later, as a very angry client stomps off, and he brushes back your hair, hard body against yours, studying your face. 'Would you... be my girlfriend?'

I need one more part for these two - it'll probably be all sex lolll hope you enjoy this one!

taglist 1 @shydroid3000 @aducksmokingquack @miya4life @ravenbc @yenayaps @nezukuwu @etsuniiru @ieathairs @kenqki @princess-bblgm @belovedxiao @ninikrumbs @ieathairs @myahfig4 @theelegantpotato @vvaoo @aldebrana @celestep004 @whoisteona @ladyneisa @lililovely78 @gamerhere @wstaley2 @allthesqueaks @slut4donghyuck @maisiefrancesca @yittten @femaholicc @jjknanamin @that-b-word-lol @devastyle @mat-mat-mat @jkslaugh97 @ovela @mxgnolia @rikiswifeyyy @kaayyhunnyy @gojos1wife1 @arabellasolstice @01ve3rz @jud3thedude @firemoonlightfly @vyluvs @artist1936 @kyelikesanime @alygator77 @seternic @qlucoise @mysticranger575 @undermegumisbed

[star-5truck]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Sypnosis: Blue Lock men getting jealous! Characters: S. Nagi, R. Itoshi, S. Itoshi, M. Kaiser

Jealous - Nick Jonas

Cause you're too fuckin' beautiful

And everybody wants a taste

That's why (That's why)

I still get jealous

Nagi Seishiro

-Reo and you are the only people he hangs out with. But you and reo are closer than he thought.

-he trusts reo, he trusts you, so why is there a pit in his stomach?

-The feeling doesn’t go away for DAYS and he can’t stand it

-Ends up going to isagi for advice

-Isagi just looks at him confused “You mean your jealous, right?”

-Jealous? But reos his friend??

-Gets the balls to talk to you about it.

“Reo?” You said, a look of confusion on your face as you looked over at your boyfriend. “I mean, he is a nice guy. But I’m dating you, Sei.” You give him a kiss on his cheek, making his ears tint the slightest bit of red.

“Jealousy is a hassle.” He murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist and holds you tight. He settles in the crook of your neck, sighing in content. “I trust you angel. ‘m sorry for feeling that way.”

He feels your body shake from your giggle, he’s about to ask why before your hands are raking through his hair. “It’s fine. Jealousy is normal.” That’s all the reassurance you both need.

Itoshi Rin

-Gets jealous when you ask one of his TEAM MATES to teach you soccer.

-He’s right here??

-Worst part, he found out about it through said team mate. You didn’t even bring it up with him.

-Keeps thinking about it every second now

-Did you not deem him a good enough teacher?

-He knew he was harsh with words but that was only SOMETIMES (It really isn’t)

“Rin?” Your voice brought him out of his thoughts, making him look up at you.

“Huh?”

“You’re staring again. Something on your mind?” You’ve noticed he’s been quieter nowadays. Staring off into nothing like his thoughts were so important- which they could be. But you’d like to help him in his predicament.

“Do you not want to spend time with me?” He asks suddenly, making you blink in surprise.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I know you asked Shidou to teach you soccer.”

Your face is immediately red. He wasn’t wrong, anyway, it’s just that Rin took it the wrong way. You’d asked Shidou to teach you soccer because you wanted to spend more time with Rin. You just wanted to impress him. Rin tells you that’s a stupid idea. Immediately makes you stop your lessons with Shidou.

Itoshi Sae

-First of, Sae doesn’t get jealous. He’s perfectly comfy with how your relationship is and knows you wouldn’t cheat on him.

-Never fucking mind

-Who does this waiter think he is asking for your number?

-Sae is literally sitting infront of you on a DATE

-Gives the guy the worst stare you’d ever imagine

-Of course, you don’t give the guy your number but it still irks Sae.

“We should stop going to that restaurant.” Sae says after he starts the car and you’re on the road. You look at him surprised. Considering Sae’s the one who suggested you eat there in the first place.

“What? Why? Isn’t this one of the few restaurants that consider your diet?

“I don’t care. The staff there aren't that friendly.” He’d rather DIE than admit he’s jealous. He might even crash this car right now if you decide to push it. He’d ask you to step out before crashing the car, of course.

“Sae are you sure-?”

“That place doesn’t have [favorite drink] right? Thought so. We should go to places with more variety anyway.”

Michael Kaiser

-You’re at his game, like always, of course.

-And like at every game, there is a kiss cam.

-See, Kaiser makes sure to get you VIP tickets so you don’t end up there.

-That fails when another VIP sits next to you, and the kiss cam lands on you both.

-The guy is already leaning in and Kaiser is already fuming.

Every player on the field actually stops playing out of shock. Considering the fact Michael Kaiser is the biggest opponent for BOTH teams. They all watch as he runs over to the VIP seats, jumps over the railing, and curtly flips off the camera and the guy. He kisses you, it's quick, but the stadium still erupts in cheers. “There’s a kiss for you.” He says to the camera, making another round of yells come.

“Micha, WHAT do you think you're doing?” You tell him baffled by the events that had just passed.

“Showing them you’re taken, what else?”

You now wear one of Kaiser’s jerseys every game.

[lvl1l1]

LaDS men when you get flowers from someone else

pairings: Sylus, Rafayel, Xavier, Caleb, Zayne x F!Reader(separate)

content: jealousy, fluff, caleb and xavier are a teensy bit insane, charlie taking another L

Sylus

You two decided to spend the weekend at your apartment, he obviously wouldn’t be caught dead showing up empty handed.

As you open the door, the first thing you see is a beautifully arranged bouquet of camellias and carnations. The second is the smug grin on your boyfriend’s face, which is wiped right off as soon as he steps into your living room and notices the pathetically small bouquet you had already hosted in a vase.

“Kitten, was your budget for those flowers chump change and a dream? You should’ve known, I’d bring you a little something.”

Once you tell him, that those were a gift from a co-worker for helping him out, his demeanour shifts slightly, unnoticeable to the untrained eye. Luckily, you were the one person who could see right through him.

Not like that mattered, when he went to grab his phone before you could even say anything. You see him tap around a little before raising it to his ear, speaking into the device.

“Yeah, I want them all delivered.”

You look at him with furrowed brows and he finally went back to paying attention to you. A sharp smile makes its way to his face.

“I don’t mind you leaving these, to put it bluntly, sad flowers here. They’ll make all the bouquets i’m getting you stand out even more.”

The unimpressed stare you give him, clearly doesn’t phase him, as he just walks into your bedroom, pulling you along.

“You deserve only the best, the biggest and the grandest. For everything.”

“You’re almost winning me over, Sy. But shouldn’t we wait until those poor florists actually deliver whatever ridiculous amount of flowers you ordered?”

At that, Sylus pulled you closer, nuzzling his face into your hair,

“The flowers will be fine waiting outside of your door. It’ll also be a nice way to send a message to everyone living in this apartment complex. Now, how about a lesson in why you shouldn’t accept flowers from other men?”

You sigh first, suddenly going rigid as a realisation hits you,

“I don’t have enough vases. Or even space for more flowers!”

Being the last thing you mumbled before your bedroom door closed with a ‘click’.

Rafayel

You two were out running some errands together, grabbing art supplies for him, groceries and what-not.

Linkon City was as lively as ever, a melting pot for diverse people. You and Rafayel held hands, pushing through the crowd.

Rafayel was about to pull you into another store, when you’re stopped by a man.

He’s holding a small bouquet of red roses and smiles at you, not looking at Rafayel,

“Hi, miss. We’re giving out free flowers today, these are for you.”

You feel Rafayel squeeze your hand and you know he’s glaring without even looking at him,

“Oh, thank you but I don’t-“

The man practically shoves the flowers into your free hand,

“I insist. Have a good day!”

And with that, he turns and leaves you standing there holding the small bouquet.

A hum leaves your throat, shrugging and leaning in to smell the flowers, before you’re stopped by your boyfriend.

“Why would you accept these ugly flowers? There’s no artistic flair, just basic roses and their stems aren’t even cut evenly! Honestly, It’s like he’s trying to harass my girlfriend by making her look at something so hideous. Besides, you have a rich boyfriend capable of making you a wayyy better bouquet standing right here.”

You narrow your eyes at him, lips curling upwards, leaning closer to him,

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Rafayel’s eyes widened at that, mouth falling open slightly,

“These are clearly just for a campaign, he’s just working. I wouldn’t have accepted them otherwise, don’t worry.”

Your boyfriend jutted out his lower lip, taking the bouquet out of your hand. He made the flowers go up in flames and before you could react he pulled you towards the nearest flower shop.

“Doesn’t matter. My girlfriend deserves flowers as pretty as her. I’m arranging this bouquet myself and it’ll be the prettiest you’ve ever seen!”

You playfully roll your eyes at his antics but you couldn’t help but appreciate his effort. So, you let him pull you along.

Xavier

It was date night and you and Xavier decided to go to your usual hotpot place. You were waiting outside of your apartment building for him, as he went to grab his wallet that he had forgotten at his place.

You were leaning against the gate, when a familiar voice suddenly called out to you,

“Oh, hey! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Charlie walked up to you, you flashed him a little smile as you noticed the flowers he was holding.

“Someone brought me these at the bakery today! They look nice, don’t you think?”

You nodded curtly, not wanting to talk to him for too long, knowing Xavier might see.

Not taking the hint, Charlie’s face lit up, an idea flashing through his mind, not having learned anything from your last interaction.

“Hey, why don’t you take them? I don’t really have a place for them anyway.”

Not waiting for your reply, he pushed the bouquet towards you. Hesitantly, you take them,

“I don’t think this is a good idea-“

He waved you off and went to walk inside.

You stared at the flowers, biting your lips, thinking of what to do before Xavier returned.

You knew it was too late once you noticed the streetlights flickering and an ominous presence manifesting behind you.

“Throw them away.”

You quickly straightened your posture, turning around with a teasing smile,

“Hey there, Xav.”

“Throw them away.”

He repeated in a serious tone.

A sigh left you,

“I was planning on doing that anyway. Don’t you think it’d be a waste though?”

Xavier shook his head, a stern expression on his usually neutral face.

“Doesn’t matter, they’re ugly anyway. Besides, who gives away a gift they received? He’s got no shame.”

You raised an eyebrow at him,

“Why didn’t you come out earlier, if you were here already?”

He came closer, taking the flowers out of your grasp, not answering. He teleported over to the dumpsters, throwing the flowers in.

“I’ll get you prettier ones. Ones that actually mean something.”

You met him halfway and grabbed his hand,

“Alright. But let’s get going, before we miss our reservation.”

Xavier’s expression finally softened, a small smile making its way to his face as he looked at you.

You two started walking, you started talking to him about your day and he listened, nodding along.

Luckily, you didn’t notice how the entire buildings lights suddenly went out. He was gonna deal with that evil baker later.

Caleb

Caleb just got done cooking, when he finally heard a knock on his door.

You had finally gotten some days off after a gruelling week filled with missions back to back and you were staying with him in Skyhaven.

He was planning on helping you relax the entire time you were going to be with him. He would cook for you, take you wherever you wanted to go and monopolise your attention.

The brunet happily opened the door, immediately greeting you with a hug,

“Pipsqueak, I gave you the key to my place for a reason. You don’t have to knock.”

You giggled at him, walking inside and taking your shoes off with one hand.

That’s when he noticed the flowers you were holding, he cocked his head, not saying anything.

“Oh, a friend of mine gave these to me right before I left! Do you have a vase we could put them in?”

Caleb’s brows furrowed, his eyes darkening slightly.

“What was the occasion? These aren’t even your favourite flowers. Would expect them to be thoughtful, when pulling off a gesture like this.”

You looked at him, amused.

“Caleb, they’re just flowers. From someone who’s just a friend.”

He walked into the living room with you, looking at the bouquet like it personally offended him.

“Well, seems like we’ll have to take the bouquet apart, pipsqueak. Your friend put iris and chrysanthemums together. Vastly different vase life, would be bad if we put them together. Might as well throw them out, honestly. I’ll get you flowers that actually survive together.”

He didn’t miss the scepticism on your face as you put the bouquet on the coffee table. You walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Caleb, honey, you don’t need to let it out on the flowers, they’re innocent. My friend was just trying to be nice but if they bother you, we can throw them away.”

His hands found your waist, as he looked at you with those eyes, resembling a kicked puppy.

“But if you like them…”

You shook your head,

“They’re just flowers. You can just get me some. Or even better, I’ll bring you some next time!”

His face lit up again, pressing your foreheads together,

“You don’t need to bring me flowers, pips. That’s my job! Besides, I actually know which flowers you like, I’d never just carelessly put a bouquet together.”

You looked up at him through your lashes, realising what he was pulling,

“Caleb, you-“

He picked you up and brought you over to the kitchen, putting you down on the counter.

“Too late, you already agreed.”

He winked at you, and you noticed something fly out the window through your peripheral vision.

“Now, let’s eat and after that I’ll take you out shopping. We’ll pick up some flowers on the way.”

Zayne

Zayne was just finishing up the last of his work at the hospital, when he received a text from you,

“ahhh i just saw them, love the flowers zaynie! thank you so much”

He stared at his phone in confusion, trying to think of a response,

“What are you talking about, love?”

You sent him a picture of a bouquet of amaryllis, followed up by a text,

“they’re so pretty! they were just delivered, thank u<3”

His fingers twitched, as he left his office, making his way to his car.

“Leave them on the table. I’ll be home soon.”

With that, he put his phone away and got in his car.

-

You were slightly confused at Zayne’s last text but did as he said.

Once you heard keys turn in the lock, you quickly walked over to the door to welcome your boyfriend.

The door pushed open and your boyfriend walked inside, you noticed his bag wasn’t the only thing he was holding.

He presented you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, before he even took off his coat.

“…welcome back, dear.”

The confusion in your voice evident, still accepting the flowers gratefully.

Zayne quietly took off his shoes and hung up his coat, pressing a kiss to your temple before walking into the kitchen.

“These flowers…”

He picked them off the table and glanced at them.

“They were delivered, yes? Did a note come with them?”

You went to stand next to him, holding the bouquet he just brought you,

“Nope. I’ll take it, those aren’t from you?”

He let out an affirmative hum,

“What do you say, we gift these to the elderly lady next door? And you find a vase for the ones I got you.”

“Sounds good! Just… who do you think sent these?”

His gaze met yours and his eyes lit up with affection for you.

“I’m not sure but I intent to find out. I can’t just stand by and watch as someone tries to make the woman I love swoon.”

You chuckled at that, switching to holding the bouquet he got you with one hand, caressing his face with your other,

“No one besides you could ever make me swoon, Zayne.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes,

“I know. Still, I won’t let this slide. I want you to be happy over things that are actually from me.”

At that, you press a sweet kiss to his lips. He was just so lovely.

[infoglitch]

I apologize @howlingday for jumping in with an opinion that might rub ya the wrong way.

This comic is a text book definition of how society works if you ask me, and it's also how a lot of politics works. (Also this can be seen through bullying-)

People who want to hurt others will lie and trick anyone they can just to hurt that person or group. And when those people are in power that's when you know bad things are sure to follow.

This will continue to happen because but into the lie, we buy into the "sandwich" and you know what we get? Nothing, because it doesn't exist, the promises are hollow because the ones making them are cruel, and cruel people will always hurt others because they want to, and if they aren't hurting a different group, they are going to hurt you.

This is the world of politics, this is the truth behind both sides because they don't care about anyone, they don't care about equality, fairness, or even justice. All they care about is hurting others. If both sides could I have no doubt they would order a genocide on all people who do not agree with them.

We cannot live in a society where we sit back and watch others get hurt and think we'll be fine. Because that is a load of bullshit.

We cannot be lied to, we cannot be fear mongered, because if we are we are ALL guilty.

Because we gave those people permission to do as they please. And we have allowed wolves among sheep. So I ask you all, to stop buying into lies and deceit and keep those bastards locked out.

Alright I've been arrogant. I'm leaving. Have a good day everyone.

it was not on wheat...

[woso-story]

Better Boyfriend Than Him - Part Twenty-Two

Alexia Putellas x Reader - Other Parts

Being Alexia's girlfriend is… perfect.

There’s no other word for it.

Waking up next to her, the way her arm lazily wraps around your waist in the mornings. The soft kisses on your temple before she leaves for training. The way she smiles at you like she’s still surprised she gets to call you hers. It’s all perfect—so easy and natural, like it was always meant to be this way.

But just as everything is falling into place, it’s time to leave.

You’re heading home for Christmas—Zaragoza, with your family and Mapi’s—and suddenly the timing feels unfair. You just got her, just held her hand in public for the first time, just kissed her in front of your friends… and now you have to leave?

You cling to her the morning of your departure, sitting on the edge of your bed in your thick sweater, your overnight bag packed and waiting at the door. Alexia stands in front of you in her pajamas, arms crossed and teasing you with a little smile.

“You’re acting like you’re leaving for six months,” she says, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“It feels like it,” you mumble.

She laughs and leans in, pressing a long, slow kiss to your lips. “You’ll be back in a few days. I’ll be fine.”

You’re not sure if you will.

Mapi’s voice cuts through the moment from the hallway. “Okay, lovebirds. We’re late. Again.”

Alexia helps you up, your hand lingering in hers even as you walk toward the door.

“I don’t want to go,” you whisper.

“I know,” she whispers back, her voice soft.

Just as you turn to say goodbye one more time, Mapi groans. “Seriously? I’m gonna drag you out myself.”

And she does.

She literally wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you out the door while you and Alexia are still laughing through your goodbyes. Alexia leans against the doorway, watching you with soft eyes and a small smile, blowing you one last kiss.

It’s hard. Really hard.

But the Christmas days are… perfect.

Your family is thrilled to have you back, and the warmth of home wraps around you like your favorite blanket. There’s food, endless teasing, way too many sweets. And everyone’s excited to meet Alexia someday—your parents, your cousins, even your uncle who pretends not to care about football but somehow knows exactly how many goals she scored this season.

In the evenings, it’s just you and your girlfriend again. You curl up under your childhood blanket, your phone pressed to your ear, and tell each other what you’ve been doing the last few hours.

Her voice always makes your heart calm down.

She tells you about what her mom cooked, and how Alba forced her into watching Love Actually again. You tell her about your grandma’s bad jokes and how you can’t stop thinking about her whenever someone says the word “Barcelona.”

And then, just like that, it’s New Year’s Eve.

You and Mapi are driving back to Barcelona, music blasting, the car packed with presents and leftovers. You're both excited—there's something special about ringing in the new year with your people. Your girlfriend. Your friends. Your life.

The apartment is buzzing with laughter when you arrive. People are everywhere—Alexia in the kitchen with Alba, pouring cava into mismatched glasses. She turns the second you step through the door.

Your heart jumps when you see her. She looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room.

“You’re back,” she says, crossing over to pull you into a kiss.

“I told you I’d come back,” you smile against her lips.

The night is full of music, dancing, drinks, and joy. Midnight comes too fast. Everyone’s counting down around you, glasses raised, eyes bright.

“Cinco!”

“Cuatro!”

“Tres!”

You’re already turning to her, arms around her neck.

“Dos!”

“Uno!”

And then her lips are on yours, and nothing else matters.

The best start to a new year in a long time.

---

Time with Alexia moves differently now. Faster, somehow, but fuller too.

The new year kicks off with both of you buried in responsibilities. She heads off to training camp with Barca. You dive into a new project at work that keeps you glued to your laptop late into the evenings. Life is moving fast—but it’s moving in the right direction.

She still finds ways to make you feel like you’re her priority. You come home to flowers more often than not��sometimes roses, sometimes wild little bouquets she picked up “just because.” Sometimes there’s a note tucked between the petals, scribbled in her handwriting:

“You’re the calm in my chaos.”

You go on double dates with Mapi and Ingrid. You visit Eli and Alba often, sharing Sunday coffees and warm croissants. The first time they came over after Alexia made it official with you, Eli pulled you into the tightest hug and whispered, “Ya era hora. Bienvenida a la familia.”

Everything is falling into place.

At the end of January, it’s your birthday.

Because Alexia’s birthday is less than a week later, the two of you decide to celebrate together—nothing extravagant, just a cozy dinner with your closest friends. Laughter bubbles through the night, champagne glasses clink, and Alexia keeps looking at you like she’s the luckiest person in the room.

Maybe she is.

But you feel the same way.

Alexia is the best girlfriend you could ever ask for. Supportive, steady, full of quiet passion. She kisses you when you’re stressed, holds you when you're tired, reminds you with every little thing she does that you’re loved, deeply.

Life isn’t just good.

It’s perfect.

[fyuyushia]

Capture target: You!

Sung Jinwoo walks you home after the date mini reunion 2.0. you both agree to meet again sometime soon and finally exchange numbers.

Masterlist for the series

Short chapter this time....

"Thanks for the treat."

Tilting your head a bit, you bow as you prepare to leave. A few hours had passed, all spent in more conversations that lasted longer than the ones you had back in the reunion party.

"No problem, thank you too for spending time with me."

You chuckle, brushing off his words with a wave. "Oh please, I should be the one honored."

"Please, even if I've gotten a bit-as weird as it sounds-famous, I don't think I've changed that much." He smiles, "don't act like a stranger now."

"I'll keep that in mind, then."

[Sub-quest: Go to a food establishment together with [name] for the promised date {complete!}]

Ignoring the window, his gaze darts towards you-who slowly prepared to leave. You raised your arms, stretching it languidly like a cat, humming softly as you hear your bones pop.

"It's getting late, shall we go now?"

"Of course," Jinwoo stands up from his seat, picking himself up to follow. "I'll take you home, then."

"Pardon?" You pause.

"Hm?" He pauses too.

"Take me home?" You tilt your head, mildly surprised.

"Yes, take you home. It's dangerous to be off on your own around this time."

A second or two passes in silence, with you still processing his words. You gasp, flailing your arms around.

"Oh, no no, you don't need to go through the trouble!"

"No, it's fine, I insist." He chuckles, "I'm the one who troubled you by making you stay. It's my responsibility to make sure you get home safe too."

Blood rushes to your cheeks, heart thumping at his thoughtful offer. Jeez, why was he doing just the right things to make you swoon? That's just unfair. With a defeated sigh, you relent.

"Alright then, do as you wish." Jinwoo smiles a close eyed grin in response.

You walk out of the cafe with Jinwoo in tow. His wandering eyes dart towards your figure, then back to his front every now and then. He tucks his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, amusing himself with the sight of the bustling streets instead.

Lamp posts strewn about on the road lit up what would have been dark paths, the several still open shops providing it's own light as well through glass walls that provided a glimpse of what was inside. His gaze moves from the stores, to the people filling up the streets.

Some were couples, some were workers itching to get home, some were youths who just finished trips and were now heading back home, some were family, a variety of people, he notices, filled up this place with life.

There were a lot of people, much more than normal.

So, he did what any sane person who cared a bit for their company. He walked closer beside you, closing the distance until your shoulders sometimes grazed each other's with every stride.

You arch a brow. Your eyes scan his face for an explanation, and you pair it with a confused tilt of your head. Seeing this, he quickly explains, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"There's a lot of people tonight, stay close, wouldn't want to lose you accidentally."

You blink, donning a bemused smile. Gaze sweeping over the entire place, you blink again when you find that, although the streets were, yes, bustling with life, it's not so crowded to warrant such an act.

There was still plenty of space for other passersby to pass through, and you're certain you wouldn't lose each other in such a wide street.

"I don't think it's that-" you look back at him, sharing your findings.

You stop, though, when you notice the slightest tinge of red on the tips of his ears. Your lips part, mildly surprised, before shutting into a knowing smile.

"What is it?"

You shake your head, placing both hands beside your back as a fond look encompasses your eyes.

"Nothing, nevermind me."

He sports a bemused look, but doesn't push you for answers. He doesn't seem to notice the fact that his ears went just the smallest bit red as he initiated the move. Shrugging, he lets the matter go without a fuss, even as he questions the sudden cut off. A part of him wondered what you meant to say, but he wasn't too curious, and he had a feeling it wouldn't do well for him if he did hear.

You stifle a giggle.

[Lvl 1. Acquaintance

♡ = 11% (+ 1 )

Feeling: (Locked.)]

Jinwoo hears the pinging of the system, and, like clockwork, a hologram appears in front of him, informing him of the latest updates.

Mildly surprised by the sudden affinity raise, his brows furrow before quickly resting back in place. He didn't think that it would warrant a raise in points, but he didn't complain, seeing as it helped him reach the end goal faster.

Jinwoo feels someone press against his shoulder, leaning just a teensy bit closer. His eyes widen ever so slightly. Looking your way, Jinwoo finds you closing the remaining distance. You meet his gaze with a mirthful grin, he fears he might get blinded by the sheer brightness of your smile.

"Is this close enough, now?"

His steps stutter. Clearing his throat subtly, he averts his eyes. "Yes, this should be fine."

His expression is devoid of any emotions, and he ensures it stays that way. He forces the flush that threatens to creep up on his neck down, ignores the faint flutter he feels.

It's been too long, he's completely forgotten what it was like to feel this way. And gosh, he thought he already got rid of this—he doesn't think he has the time to indulge in such light hearted moments.

He had no reason to feel this way.

Your voice, a giggle, begrudgingly brings his attention back to you.

"Is there something funny?"

Your hands cover your mouth partly, eyes crinkling with amusement even as you face him. "No, nothing much."

You sigh, eyes closed. "It's just that, it reminds me of back then."

He keeps himself quiet, silently urging you to go on, and you do. "You know, you also used to walk me home. Even if my house was a bit far from yours and all."

A moment of silence is given as you recall the past, mostly what he did for you back then. You allow the gentle hum of the city to consume the atmosphere between you as thoughtfully look back.

Jinwoo hums, dread and embarrassment filling up his mind at the memory. Ah, yes, he did do that once upon a time-one of the many efforts he made to stay close to you and hopefully gain your affection. You never did catch onto it though, even in the very end when you had to move.

He grimaces inwardly, ashamed of the memory. You seemed to think otherwise though, bringing it up fondly instead.

Or, his breath hitched at the thought. Did you notice but pretend to be clueless?

No matter, it was already in the past. He doesn't have lingering feelings for you anymore, at least, he convinces himself of that.

"I did do that before."

"You did." You nodded, "It was thoughtful."

Your eyes move on the view in front of you, no longer meeting him in the eye. "Come to think of it, you were always a protective one."

Jinwoo keeps his lips shut, simply watching as you reminisce the past. Soft light coated your skin, lighting you up and providing a shimmer in your eyes he couldn't quite match.

"Yes, well," he puts his hands in his coat's pockets, curling it into a fist. I liked you. "I'd feel bad if I just left you alone like that. Especially since danger wasn't only a peculiar stranger during those times—and even now."

He scratches the back of his head. "Looking back on it now, I think I might've overstepped. Because of me, you couldn't walk home along with your friends."

You're quick to shut down his self deprecating words. "No, I didn't mind."

You don't look his way, but he notices the way your eyes narrow, crinkle ever so slightly, notices the slight twitch of your lips. And, he could've sworn you looked pleased, flustered even.

Or maybe that was just his delusion.

Overthinking does wonders, and so does staring at someone too much.

Your lips move, mumbling something nearly incomprehensible. It was faint, clearly not meant for him to hear, but he heard it nonetheless.

"On the contrary, I liked you because of it." You were so thoughtful, I couldn't help but fall.

What. He has to double take before taking your words in. For a moment, he completely blanks out, but he's back to earth before he can spend too long in what seemed like cloud 9. Get a grip, now's not the time to be acting like a schoolboy.

He can hear the system ping again in the background, but he can't bring himself to care, unable to even focus to see what it said. He's not in the current headspace for that yet.

"Pardon?" His eyes were wide, nearly stopping in his tracks. "Did you say something?"

You quickly turn to face him, a flicker of surprise dying down just as quickly as it appeared.

"Hm?" You cover up your earlier words with a laugh, effortlessly brushing it off when he couldn't. "I said I don't mind, you're a good company to have as well."

You smile, genuine. And while you quickly move onto the next topic, he's still stuck on the words that left your lips.

Did he mishear? No, he's not the type to delude himself. There was no mistaking the memory, the words you uttered. It was yours, undoubtedly spilling from your mouth and not and not from anyone else's, at least, he thinks. He thinks.

His fingers dig against the palm of his hand, what was that?

What was that?

"It's good to see that you haven't changed much, still thoughtful as ever." Your words pass through one ear over the other, it's hard to focus.

"Be careful though," you lean over, and his heart might (heavy on might) have just skipped a beat. "Your kind nature, added with those killer looks might just turn you into a lady killer."

You gasp, as if realizing something. "Oh wait—is that perhaps your goal?" You shake your head, gaze accusatory. "My my, how sneaky."

Jinwoo has to physically take a pause, breath, and recover before he can ease back into the conversation. But even then your words don't completely leave his mind, haunting him persistently.

"Stop exaggerating. You know I'm not that kind of person."

He deadpans, placing a finger on your forehead and pushing you away from his side with little strength. Your eyes follow his finger curiously, yelping when he pushes you with it.

"Hey!" You stumble back a couple steps, pulling his wrist away with a groan. "That was uncalled for."

You place a hand over your forehead, rubbing it whilst giving him a snide glare.

He smirks when he feels your glare. Retracting his arm, he returns it in his pocket. "And lady killer, really? I do agree I've changed but I don't think I'm as 'killer looking' as you say I am."

You roll your eyes, "yea right. Of course a handsome guy would act modest, yea right." You roll your eyes again. "Of course."

Jinwoo's brow twitches at your attitude, and there's also a flutter inside his stomach that leaves him uncomfortable. He sighs, head shaking in exasperation.

His attention is forced away when he notices the familiar structure of your apartment complex. "Seems like we're here, isn't this your home?"

You blink, halting your attitude. Following his gaze, you make an 'o' shape with your mouth when you find that, indeed, you arrived already.

"You're right, this is where I live." You approach the entrance, then pause, and turn around. "Wait, how did you know?"

Jinwoo suppresses the urge to flinch. He schools his face. "I just figured, since it was an apartment complex."

You narrow your eyes, playfully scrutinizing him. He averts your gaze, subtly looking the other direction whilst still donning a calm expression, refusing to betray the panic that surged inside him.

You let him go with a giggle. "Then, it seems we really have to part ways now."

He nods, taking a deep exhale. "Thanks for walking me home."

"It's no problem."

You hold onto the sling of your bag, hesitating a bit to leave him. He watches your back, a bittersweet feeling coating his heart.

"On the contrary, I liked you because of it."

"Wait," his fingers wrap around your wrist before you can come inside. Brought on by sheer impulse alone, sweat drips down his forehead. What is he doing?

You flinch, surprised. A small squeak of surprise is ripped out of you as you look back.

Jinwoo stands behind you, his hold unsure, hesitant even. You blink, surprised. He returns the look, looking as equally surprised as you at his own actions.

"Jinwoo..?"

"If you don't mind... Can I take you out again, sometime?" He hesitates, sounding a bit shy even.

Your eyes widen. Beating in a thunderous motion, was your heart, you could hear it thundering against your ribcage, you hoped he wouldn't.

You shouldn't take this the wrong way, you really shouldn't. He's just asking that because he appreciates your friendly company. Nothing more, nothing less. Still, your heart betrays you and flips at such a simple question.

"O-of course!" You stammer out a reply, nodding—too eagerly for your liking—in response. "Anytime!"

His eyes light up. Removing his hold on you, he takes a step back. There's an edge to his voice that makes it known to you he's as out of the water as you are right now. It both comforts and flusters you even more.

"Great." He mumbles.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all, I think." With a clear of his throat, he gulps. "Then, I'll see you soon?"

Your fingers fiddle. "Mhm, see you around. Just tell me when."

As if realizing something, Jinwoo stiffens up. "Ah wait—"

"Hm?" The way you quickly stop to listen to him is shameful, but you don't care anymore.

"Your number." He breathes out, "I still don't have your number."

"Oh, oh, oh, uh right!" You hastily open your bag, searching for your phone.

Handing it to him, your cheeks burn as you feel his fingers graze yours as he takes it. Inputting his number on your phone, long fingers press through keys before he returns it back to you.

You accept it, staring at his phone number for a moment. "Then is this all?"

His number, huh.

"Yes, really, this time." He nods, you return the gesture.

"Then, bye. Really, this time." You pause, swallowing thickly. "I'll be waiting for your text."

His heart is treacherous, and his legs nearly buckle at the sight of your near shy expression. He holds it in, of course, how he feels. He's just nonchalant like that. "Mhm, goodbye."

He smiles, perhaps a bit too widely. He waves you goodbye, and you return it with a hesitant wave of your own, this time, really going retreating to your apartment, no more buts and wait.

[Lvl 1. Acquaintance

♡ = 17% ( + 3 ) ( + 3 )

Feeling: (Locked.)]

[Achievement unlocked!]

[What lies in the past: "Back then, did you..."

      Discover a hidden feeling buried in the memories.]

[Gentleman series: Chivalry is dead...not (I)

      Walk capture target safely to home.]

Taglist: @minh907 @daiyanomochi @soft-dots @snowy-violet @kokominari @ssolarsystm @2dmenfr @baby-bread-in @awwwia

[moran-with-a-g]

And sometimes you think "well they managed to function this far without X, why do they need it now?"

Well there are three possible reasons:

They always needed it, and you couldn't see how often they crashed/burnt out from trying to push through, and how they only managed to act "functioning" because they focused all their energy on a specific aspects of functioning.

They pushed themself so hard without it that it caused irreversible damage and now they no longer can go without it.

They really didn't need it before, but something changed and now they do.

You don't ask why a person who broke their leg needs a cast. You know something happened, their leg is broken now but it wasn't before, and now they need that cast.

Now imagine if that person kept walking on that broken leg like normal. Woh oh! Now it healed wrong and it's going to be painful for the rest of their life. "But they didn't have that pain before!" well because it wasn't broken before! And now maybe they're able to still walk on it "normally" while they're around you, because they push through the pain. You don't know what it's like when they're home, unable to sleep at night because it's so painful they can't rest.

I can tell you before I was diagnosed with Idiopathic Hypersomnia I was working for 2.5 years from 9 to 6 every day sometimes including weekends, I was rarely late to work. But that's because I kept crashing at work around noon and fell asleep (oftentimes on the keyboard while working) and my teammates covered for me, I slept on the bus both on the way to work and on the way back, I would often skip meals because I didn't have the energy to cook for myself so I settled for a snack or just went straight to bed. I would finish all my tasks for the day, I would be on time for shifts, and my boss trusted me, but I was pushing myself to the limits every day trying to function.

Then I got medication and I kept following the exact same routine, but suddenly I didn't fall asleep on the keyboard during the day, and I had energy to make food for myself, I got my work done even faster and made less mistakes, I stopped falling asleep on the bus back too (not on the way because I always took my meds when I was already at work, because I like napping on the bus ngl). And some people around me were confused, because in my mind I was able to function just fine, but they weren't around on the weekends where I would sleep more than I was awake (I think 24 hours of continuous sleep is my record), they didn't notice me trying to work while I was literally seeing double from exhaustion and had to concentrate so hard it gave me terrible headaches just to piece together words on the screen, they didn't know about the hallucinations I would get in the middle of the day when my mind decided to start dreaming even though I wasn't asleep. They would think "Yeah, Morgan is just a bit lazy sometimes".

And my disability isn't that severe! I could work without meds! I know that for a fact! I forgot them today and I'm doing pretty much fine! But I did fall asleep for like an hour already. I'm probably going to go back home and pass out on my bed until tomorrow. But a lot of disabled people don't have that luxury of being able to skip a day of meds and be fine. And medication isn't the only type of support disabled people need.

Even if you don't see the disability doesn't mean it's not there.

I hate how often some (typically abled) people will go “well, if you can’t [get a specific support], then what?” when it comes to disabilities. As if it’s a “gotcha” moment. And then act like you’re exaggerating when you answer that question honestly.

Disabled people often die from a lack of support. A lot of disability aids are not a luxury, but a basic need in order to live.

“Well what happens if—” people die. People hurt themselves. People hurt others. Disabled people don’t magically become abled if our needs aren’t met.

If a bedbound quadriplegic is caught in a housefire, and there’s nobody there to save them, they’ll probably die. They won’t magically become able-bodied out of sheer will.

If a nonspeaking/nonverbal autistic is denied access to alternative methods of communication, they’ll suffer in silence. They won’t spontaneously become capable of speech.

Disabled people are disabled all the time. Our disabilities don’t go away just because they’re inconvenient, or if we’re in danger.

[igotanidea]

Bumpy road: Jason Todd x reader

Aka: the one with the first fight.

***

They were warning her.

*They* as in pretty much everyone – family, friends, even strangers on the street.

They were warning her that every relationship hits a rough path sooner or later. That the honeymoon phase cannot last forever. That arguments, fights, misunderstandings and other rocks on the yellow road of Oz are about to happen.

Like she was a kid, not knowing that already.

Of course she was aware of all that! Hell – her parents had enough of a clash of characters and silent days to somehow immunize her against it.

She thought herself ready for the stormy days, making a bucket list of things she wouldn’t do with Jason.

Like *not going to bed angry* or *talking through things* or other silly and completely immature naïve things.

Well – having a plan and putting it into action turned out to be two completely different things.

***

The shy sun on the sky, gentle wind and little white fluffy clouds were nothing of a sign of an impending torment.

Y/N was walking back home from work, having taken a few hours for a personal leave with a set date of working it off. Though if it meant spending 10 hours in the office on Thursday to have some more time with Jay on Friday, so be it. 

Absolutely worth it.

Not even fighting the happy smile forming on her face, thinking about the little surprise she had planned for him, she rode along the streets humming the songs coming from the car radio.

Even their shabby apartment in the shitty district of Gotham seemed more vibrant for no reason.

“Jay? Jay, I’m home!” her bag landed on the rack, shoes on the shelf, coat in the wardrobe. “babe? You’re here? Oh – oh, Jay, what happened?”

Jason was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into the space, fidgeting with his phone, but not paying any attention to whatever might have flashed on the screen. Anyone else might have been fooled, after all Jason always seemed a little detached and immersed in his own thoughts, especially when he was alone. Y/N was not one of those people, seeing through him almost instantly.

“Hey?” The soft sound of bare feet on the floor approaching him from the side finally threw him off and back into reality. 

“Hey.” No smile, no sparkles in the eyes, no sign of acknowledgment. Only a slight flinch as if he was trying to pull back and away from her.

Y/N frowned.

“Jace-“

“I’m busy.” His gaze immediately fell back onto the screen, scrolling mindlessly, finding himself a substitute occupation.

“With what?”

“God, why are you being so nosy?” Jason rolled his eyes, not stopping whatever was so interesting.

“Nosy?”

“Yes, nosy. I’m browsing, ok? How do you think I get the fucking intel for patrolling?”

“Through a Facebook page?” she tried to crack the joke.

“Yeah. That too. Do you want to go through my texts now? Is this what this is about?”

“What? No, of course no. What’s with the hostility?”

“I’m not fucking hostile.”

“Right… Not at all.”

“I just need some freaking silence, is that too hard to understand?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” It was shockingly difficult to say those words, considering the fact she made quite different plans for the afternoon, but apparently the relationship also required compromising. Even if the meaning of the word was forgetting about oneself all together, all for the benefit of the other half of the duet.  “I’ll go get us some snacks, hm? And maybe I could help you with – “

“Whatever.”

Oh, okay. He wasn’t hostile, he was indifferent.

Or maybe just busy.

Right, right, of course, just busy, it was okay. First time for everything, even ignoring her.

She could understand it, obviously, being understanding and giving him necessary space like any considerate girlfriend would.

***

Shit broke free three days later.

Any target group asked would unanimously agree that Monday mornings were absolutely the worst, and external circumstances had nothing to do with it. The loads of easy work from Friday that could be left and handled on Monday suddenly became increasingly difficult and seemed to multiply.

99% of people liked that.

Y/N was no exception.

Good humor? Gone.

Optimistic attitude? Lost.

Exhaustion? Skyrocketing.

Sudden thirst for blood and unparalleled rage? Present.

Incoming storm in her relationship….?

Yeah… Inevitable.

***

It was like the entertainment replay.

Jason was sitting on the couch, staring blankly into space, fidgeting with his phone… yadda, yadda, yadda.

Only this time she had zero patience and zero strength to handle it, heading straight to the bathroom, wiping her makeup, cleaning her face.

Standing in front of the mirror, removing the mascara, the foundation, putting her hair in a messy bun, slowly transforming back into her domestic version.

Just. Wanting. Some. Rest.

Meeting with an angered, almost reproachful look on her boyfriend’s face.

Once again, trying to be sympathetic.

“Hi.”

Jason grunted.

“What’s going on?” she tried again.

He rolled his eyes.

“Oh for crying out loud!”

“Stop being a bitch.”

“a – a bitch? I’m sorry, what the-“

“Yes, bitch. You heard me right. You’ve barely been giving me attention lately!”

“Attention!? What the hell, Jason!? You’ve been AWOL!”

“I’ve been here all the time!”

“In body! But sure as hell not in mind! You spend eight hours in front of the phone and computer on Saturday!”

“Did you go through my PC?” he took a step back, fury in his eyes taking her by surprise.

“What? No! What is this about!?”

“Did you go through-“

“Jason!”

“Did you!?” he half-yelled and all her resolutions about being an understanding, caring partner, showing respect and love for the other one went through the window. 

“Are you accusing me of spying on you!?”

“Maybe I am! Answer the fucking question!”

“You’re paranoid!” she yelled. “Yes!” though it wasn’t true at all. “Yes, I did. Happy now!?” she hissed with a vindictive smirk, suddenly wanting to enrage him further for no reason in particular. Maybe for the sheer satisfaction of giving him the same shit he was giving her.

“Brat!”

“Asshole!”

“Idiot!”

“Jerk!”

“I hate you!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t; have gotten into a relationship with me in the first place!”

“You know what?” he hissed, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t have because-“

“Because you’re an asshole-!”

“Because you’re completely immature!”

“Oh, I’m immature!” Y/N cried out, throwing her hands in the air “hypocrite! You’re always go about work and job  and crime rate and vigilantism and crime lords and-“

“You fucking knew it! You fucking knew who I was when we started – “

“You have changed!” her words came without any thinking and Jason felt like it was a slap. For a moment eerie silence, electrified with tension fell between them.

The only sounds being the heavy beating of their hearts, ragged breaths and unbearable weight of both spoken and unspoken words.

“Maybe I did.” He said coldly.

“Yeah, maybe you did. But maybe it’s my fault.”

“Maybe I fucked up your life.”

“Maybe.”

“And maybe you fucked up mine.”

“Right.”

The screaming match turned into an exchange of icy cold gazes and sharp as knives words.

First fight and they were already pulling out the arguments that their relationship might have been a mistake.

Y/N flinched internally realizing she was acting exactly like her parents after 15 years of marriage.

Though clearly the generational trauma poured on her, resulted in an accelerated speed and she was becoming a hag after 15 months.

Fucking great. If anyone was a hypocrite, she just scored a gold star in the category.

Not that she was going to admit it, since he started it.

Besides he was a man, and she was a woman so it was his responsibility to resolve –

God! She was having every little hated characteristic of her mother.

“Do we break up?” he asked and her eyes grew wider.

So easily?

Giving up without fighting or trying to fix things?

Seriously?!

Did he even love her at all or was it all just a game?

“Y/N?”

“What?”

“Do we break up?”

“You know what, let’s finish this. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

“You didn’t answer the –“

“Just leave me alone!”

So much for *not going to bed angry*.

***

In the back of his head, Jason turned into a little kid.

It wasn’t like he enjoyed this stupid fight and the amount of harsh words and malignancy terrified him.

Truly.

Just like back in the days when he had to stand up for his mother when she was fighting with another pathetic counterfeit of a man.

It was hard to grow up without any male role model, but even if he didn’t know who he wanted to be as a partner, he had a clear idea of who he didn’t want to be.

He hated the concept, the sheer possibility of becoming suspicious, violent, aggressive in words, crude and rude. The exact image of what he had just displayed towards her.

The woman he loved.

The woman he wanted to be protective and  supportive of.

“Great fucking job, Jason.” He hissed to himself and even though his body was aching to rush to the bedroom, wrap arms around her and silently apologize with hugs and warmth stupid pride prevented him.

She started this after all.

And in the back of his mind he was a five year old, starving for affection and validation, feeling like there was no one who loved him.

Like maybe he was doomed and destined to be alone.

Thinking depressing thoughts to the sound of Y/N’s breaking heart behind the thin wall.  

[xoxosierralane]

| ᴏғғɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴʟʏ |

✎ from sierra: hello hi there, my first time posting a fic on tumblr let’s hope i did this good..! and i also hope you guys enjoy this little chapter and lmk if you would like another, im also open to any ideas and writing tips. also ty to @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary & @bueckersbitch for some tips when i asked they def helped, you guys are lovely also check them out 🌺

✎ synopsis: when an overworked pre-med student wakes up late for class, the last thing she expects—aside from the existential spiral mid-lecture—is to be roped into tutoring UConn’s star point guard, Paige Bueckers. Paige is charismatic, cocky, and somehow always talking. The reader is sleep-deprived, sarcastic, and trying desperately to avoid any and all distractions. But when tutoring sessions turn into unexpected walks home, avoiding Paige becomes impossible. She’s not just a classmate—she’s a slow, sneaky problem. And worse? She lives next door.

✎ warnings: language

There are few sounds in this world more horrifying than your alarm going off thirty-five minutes after your class already started.

The second my eyes fly open, I know something is wrong. It’s that eerie, sun-too-bright, birds-too-loud kind of wrong. That creeping, soul-leaving-my-body realization as I blink at my phone screen and see the time:

9:53 AM.

Class started at nine. I should be halfway through pretending to understand biochem pathways by now, not halfway to a heart attack in bed.

I launch out of my sheets like a woman possessed, nearly tripping over the half-folded pile of laundry on my floor and banging my shin on the corner of my desk. (Why do dorm room desks always have the sharpest edges known to man?)

“Okay, okay, it’s fine,” I mutter to myself, pulling on the first pair of jeans I can find and a hoodie that may or may not have toothpaste stains on it. “You’re only, like, an hour late. People have survived worse.”

My hair’s still in the braids I did last night, thank God, because if I had to fight edge control and lateness at the same time, I would’ve just dropped out on the spot. I grab my bag, shove in a half-closed notebook, and toss a granola bar in my pocket like it’s some kind of sacrificial offering.

By the time I get to the lecture hall, I’m fully out of breath and lightly sweating. Cute. Nothing says “serious STEM major” like showing up late and looking like you just ran a 5K.

I try to sneak in, pulling the door open as quietly as possible (which means it creaks like it hasn’t been used since the Civil War), and immediately feel a hundred pairs of eyes swing in my direction. My professor pauses mid-slide.

“Nice of you to join us,” he says dryly, not even bothering to hide his smile.

“Sorry,” I mumble, keeping my head down as I scurry to the only open seat in the second row, of course. Because the back row? The safety zone? Taken. God has favorites, and I’m clearly not one of them.

I sink into the seat and pretend I didn’t just make a grand entrance. The girl next to me—blonde, tall, looks suspiciously like someone who could dunk on me if given the chance—glances over with a raised brow and the tiniest smirk.

“Rough morning?” she asks, her voice warm, a little teasing. It’s got that slightly drawn-out edge to it, like she grew up saying “pop” instead of “soda.”

I shoot her a look. “Don’t.”

She puts her hands up in mock defense but doesn’t stop smiling. Great. A morning person with cheekbones. Just what I needed.

I turn back to the lecture, trying to catch up on whatever enzyme he’s ranting about. Paige—yes, Paige Bueckers, UConn’s golden girl, sitting next to me like this is her seat or something—keeps glancing over at me every few minutes, like I’m the entertainment for the day.

Which, fine. I probably am. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

The lecture drones on, a blur of chemical structures and way too many acronyms. My brain’s already in fight-or-flight mode, and I’m trying to copy notes from the slide like my future depends on it—which it kinda does, because if I bomb this class, there goes med school, and if I don’t go to med school, then what? Sell overpriced vitamins on TikTok? Start a podcast about burnout?

I sink lower in my seat, hoping to disappear entirely.

“Alright,” the professor says, tapping his remote like it owes him money. “Can anyone explain the mechanism here?”

Silence. Beautiful, holy silence. For a second, I think we might all get away with it.

Then—

“Maya?”

I freeze. My neck actually creaks when I turn my head up to look at him. “Sorry?”

He smiles like this is fun for him. “The mechanism. For the rate-limiting step of glycolysis.”

Of course it’s glycolysis. Of course it’s this unit. I glance down at my notes, which may as well be scribbled in a dead language, and I swear my soul briefly exits my body.

Okay. Think. You’ve studied this. You’ve done flashcards at 2 a.m. like a responsible, sleep-deprived adult. You can do this.

“…Hexokinase?” I offer, which I immediately realize is wrong because his eyebrow twitches.

“Not quite,” he says. “Anyone else?”

I want to melt into the floor. I want the Earth to crack open beneath me and swallow me whole like a Greek tragedy. Why would you call on someone who was just 50 minutes late and visibly unwell?

I drop my gaze to my notebook, which now has a sad little doodle of a frowning mitochondrion in the margin, and let myself mentally spiral.

Maybe this is a sign. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me to give up and open a dog café somewhere in Portland. Maybe academic success is a capitalist scam designed to break me emotionally, physically, and spiritually. Maybe—

“You were close,” a voice whispers next to me, low enough that only I can hear. “It’s phosphofructokinase.” I glance over. Paige’s lips are twitching like she’s trying not to laugh.

Oh. So she’s not only annoying and smug—she’s smart, too. Fantastic.

I give her a blank look, then scribble it in the margin like I knew it all along. I don’t thank her. I’m not that gracious yet.

The professor moves on. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and slouch back into my seat.

I don’t even know how Paige knows that answer. I swear she’s never said a single academic thing in class before—usually just nods like she’s vibing through the lecture, and now suddenly she’s a glycolysis expert?

I glance at her again. She’s leaned back in her chair like she doesn’t have a single worry in the world. Her hoodie sleeves are pulled over her hands and she’s tapping a pencil against her notebook, looking out the window like she’s half-listening, half daydreaming.

God, I hate her.

Not really. Just enough to feel mildly personally attacked by her existence.

By the time the professor finally wraps up, my brain feels like someone stuck it in a microwave on defrost. Half-melted, barely functioning, and emitting a faint hum of defeat.

I’m already halfway through mentally mapping my route to the dining hall—food, nap, forget this day ever happened—when I hear the worst possible words.

“Maya, could you stay back for a second?”

I freeze with my laptop halfway into my bag. No. No. Please no. My stomach drops, already bracing for the we’re concerned about your academic performance speech. Or maybe he’s just gonna roast me for being late. Publicly. Again.

Next to me, Paige doesn’t move. Which is weird because usually she’s the first one out the door, bouncing off to whatever practice or photoshoot or press interview she’s contractually obligated to pretend she enjoys.

“You too, Paige,” the professor adds casually.

Ah. So it’s a group scolding. Cute.

I glance at her. She shrugs, and somehow even her shrug is smug. Like she already knows what this is about and I’m the one being dragged into something against my will.

Once everyone else filters out, the room goes quiet in that awkward way classrooms do when it’s just you, your mistakes, and the person paid to evaluate them.

The professor folds his arms. “I’m going to get right to it,” he says, eyes flicking between us. “Paige has been… struggling a bit to keep up.”

I blink. Paige?

She doesn’t even flinch. Just shifts her weight to one leg and tilts her head like, yeah, and?

“She came to me earlier,” he continues, “asking for extra support. And I mentioned you, Maya.”

My brain short-circuits. “Me?”

“Yes.” He gestures vaguely, like this makes perfect sense. “You’ve got one of the top quiz averages in the class. And I know you don’t have a lot of free time, but I thought you might be willing to help.”

I open my mouth to respond, and nothing comes out except a confused squeak.

Paige, meanwhile, is suddenly all charm and dimples. “Only if it’s not too much trouble,” she says sweetly, looking at me like I’m the answer to her prayers instead of the barely-holding-it-together girl who almost cried during a glycolysis question.

I stare at her. Then the professor. Then back at her. This is a setup. Has to be.

“I mean,” I say slowly, “I guess I could… help out. A little.”

The professor claps his hands once, like this was the easiest part of his day. “Great. Work out whatever schedule makes sense. Maybe start after the next lecture?”

“Sounds perfect,” Paige says, and I swear there’s a glint in her eye. Mischievous. Knowing.

I nod numbly, the weight of this decision already settling on my shoulders like a second backpack full of regrets.

As I head for the door, I mutter under my breath, “This is going to end badly.”

“Sorry?” Paige pipes up behind me.

“Nothing,” I lie, faster than a reflex. “See you later.”

She grins, following me out with way too much pep for someone allegedly struggling. “Can’t wait.”

And I suddenly remember: this is the same girl who walked in late the first week, said “yo, do we need the textbook for this?” in front of the whole class, and then somehow got a laugh out of the professor.

God help me.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in the library, clutching three textbooks and a syllabus I plan to set on fire. This day has already been long enough, now apparently, Paige “needs a little help” with some of the material. And apparently, I am just the student for the job.

I hate when people say “it’ll be good experience.” It always means work I don’t want to do for free.

The librarian waves at me as I step in—Ms. Marie, always with the peach-colored cardigans and peppermint candies. “Back again?”

“Like a bad habit,” I mumble, shooting her a smile. “Just grabbing some stuff for tutoring.”

“Ooh. Teaching now?”

“Trying not to cry in public,” I answer, and she laughs like I’ve said something adorable instead of tragic.

I spend way too long in the aisles, gathering books and stalling. Mostly thinking about how good I’m gonna sleep when I get back to my apartment. Seriously. The second my cheek hits the pillow? Instant peace. Probably coma-level sleep. I should be studied for science. Sleep is my love language. Sleep is the one thing in my life that hasn’t betrayed me.

I’m still mentally composing a love letter to my bed when I round a corner and see her—Paige, standing near the checkout desk, talking to one of the guys from the men’s team. He’s smiling like he thinks he has a chance. Good luck with that. Paige Bueckers is gay as fuck.

I snort before I can stop myself, just a short, soft laugh—but she hears it. Her head turns. Our eyes meet.

Oh.

She looks surprised. Not mad, not even curious, just… like she wasn’t expecting me.

And now I’ve made eye contact. Like a dumbass. I quickly duck back behind the shelf, gripping a biochem book like it’s a shield.

Great. Just great. Nothing says “competent tutor” like spying on your student and laughing at her across the library.

—

I give it a minute before circling around the long way and heading to the study room Hanes booked for us. Small, quiet, lots of windows. I stake out the seat closest to the door in case I need to make a dramatic escape.

Paige walks in a few minutes later, all long legs and blonde hair and that basketball-player stride—like she owns the space without trying to. She doesn’t say anything at first, just drops her bag and slides into the seat next to me.

I brace myself. Here we go.

She pulls out a notebook, then a pen. Then nothing. Just sits there.

I glance at her, waiting for her to do… something. Say something. Start. Breathe.

“Are you gonna, like… open the textbook, or…”

“I was letting you do your thing first,” she says, like I’m the one who showed up five minutes late and smelled like citrus gum and lavender hand cream. Her voice has that easy, confident rhythm to it—Minnesota smooth with a little edge, like she grew up chirping boys on the blacktop.

I give her a look. “My ‘thing’ is desperately trying not to cry while re-reading the same paragraph seven times.”

She smiles, wide and real. “Relatable.”

There’s a pause. Not awkward exactly, but quiet enough to make me weirdly self-aware of how close our chairs are. I pull out my laptop to have something to do with my hands.

“So,” I say, flipping to the study guide, “Professor Hanes said you’re struggling with the last few sections. You’ve looked at the review packet?”

Paige shrugs, leaning back in her chair a little too casually. “Kind of. I just—I don’t know. I get the gist, but some stuff doesn’t stick.”

“That’s usually how it works when you don’t study.”

She raises a brow at me like she wasn’t expecting me to have teeth. “I do study.”

I raise mine right back. “Instagram Reels don’t count.”

Her mouth twitches. It’s either amusement or offense. Could go either way with girls like her.

“You always this friendly?”

“No,” I deadpan. “Usually I’m meaner.”

That gets a laugh out of her—low and genuine, like it surprised her. She leans in slightly, chin propped on her hand.

“So why’d you agree to help me?”

“I didn’t,” I reply, flipping a page. “Hanes kind of voluntold me. Said it would be ‘good practice.’”

“Bet you were thrilled.”

“Overjoyed. I love giving up my one free evening to explain gen chem to someone who probably uses Gatorade as a chaser.”

Another smile from her. This one lasts a little longer.

“You always this funny?”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” I mutter, but my mouth won’t quite stop twitching.

We get into the material slowly—me talking through concepts, her asking questions here and there. She’s actually more focused than I expected. Still fidgety, still Paige Bueckers in all her tall, confident, knows-people-are-watching energy—but she’s trying. I can give her that.

Halfway through, she lets out a sigh and scrubs a hand over her face. “Okay, but why are there so many exceptions to every rule? Like, who made these up?”

“Science,” I reply. “Also colonialism.”

She tilts her head. “You’re not wrong.”

Another beat of silence. Then she asks, “What’s your major?”

“Pre-med. Bio track.”

She whistles, low. “Damn. That’s sick.”

I shrug. “It’s fine. If you enjoy stress-induced migraines and disappointing your family.”

Paige grins. “Bet your mom’s proud of you.”

“She is,” I admit, softer now. “But I also think she thinks I sleep more than I do.”

Paige’s voice is light when she says, “You don’t strike me as a slacker.”

“I’m not,” I say, yawning. “But if I had one wish? It would be to sleep for a solid twelve hours. Maybe fourteen. Maybe forever. I love sleep. Like, I would marry it. I’d elope with sleep to another country and never text anyone back.”

Paige chuckles. “That’s dramatic.”

“That’s survival,” I correct, grabbing a pen to tap against her notes. “Now stop stalling and write that formula down before I cry.”

She leans in again, not writing yet. Just watching me. “You kinda mean.”

“You’re kind of loud.”

“Touché.”

We keep working, but the space between us softens just a little. There’s something about the way she shifts a little closer when I’m showing her something, or how she asks questions like she actually wants to know the answer. She’s still full of herself, but in a way that makes me want to roll my eyes and pay attention.

And then there’s the eye contact. God. Paige Bueckers and her Olympic-level commitment to staring directly into my soul.

Like—I’m trying to explain the electron configuration of potassium, and she’s looking at me like I might be the answer to something she’s been trying to solve for years. Icy blue eyes, lashes curled to the heavens, a little swipe of mascara like she knew she’d be making people nervous today.

And by people, I mean me. Specifically me.

It’s honestly kind of rude. Intimidating. Possibly illegal. There should be a warning label or something: DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH PAIGE BUECKERS UNLESS YOU ARE READY TO BE HYPER-ANALYZED AND POSSIBLY SEDUCED.

Because I swear—I swear—the way she looks at me? It’s not just eye contact. It’s eye-to-future-entanglement contact. Like she’s trying to hypnotize me out of my panties with just her stare and that stupid smirk she keeps trying to hide behind her hand.

Focus. I need to focus. This is chemistry. Not chemistry-chemistry. I’m not gonna be another gay kid that fails a class because I couldn’t stop thinking about some pretty basketball player with really good hair.

No offense to everyone else who’s fallen into that trap. (none taken)

“Okay,” I say, tapping my pen against my notebook and not looking at her eyes again, “that’s ionic bonding, which means we’re finally done with chapter four.”

Paige stretches her arms above her head with a small groan, the hem of her hoodie lifting just enough to flash a sliver of skin. I look away instantly, like a respectable person. Like someone not currently battling the urge to spiral into a gay panic over five seconds of midriff.

“Thank God,” she sighs dramatically, flopping back in her chair like she just ran drills for two hours. “You know, I think I actually learned something.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

“I am surprised,” she grins, tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie. “You’re kinda scary-smart.”

I blink. “Scary?”

“In a good way,” she adds quickly. “Like, in a ‘you could probably build a robot army and take over the world but choose not to’ kind of way.”

“…Thanks?”

She smiles like she means it. Like maybe that was a compliment in her language. And for some reason, it sticks with me.

I start gathering my things, stuffing pens and half-crumpled notes into my backpack like the burnt-out academic I am. “Well, we’re scheduled again next Thursday unless your Coach pulls you for something.”

Paige doesn’t move to leave. She leans back in her chair, arms folded behind her head, watching me with that same annoyingly intense gaze.

“You always study here?” she asks casually, like she didn’t just spend two hours fighting for her life over basic chem.

“Sometimes,” I reply, zipping up my bag. “It’s quiet. And the librarian doesn’t hate me.”

“That’s a plus.”

“You?”

She shrugs. “Ehh usually with the team. Or, like, wherever has food.”

I hum, trying to keep the conversation from stretching too long. I’m not great at lingering—especially not with people like her. The kind of person who walks into a room and owns it without even trying.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, already planning my post-study nap in vivid, loving detail, but before I can escape—

“You wanna walk out together?”

I pause, blinking at her.

Not because it’s weird. But because I hadn’t expected it. Most athletes don’t even remember the names of their TAs, much less offer to walk them out of the library like it’s some sort of… soft exit interview.

I glance at the clock. It’s getting late. But also, she’s looking at me like I’m someone worth lingering around.

“Sure,” I say. Casually. Like my heart isn’t already doing cartwheels.

She grins, standing to her full height (good holy 6ft..), and my only thought as we walk side by side toward the doors is God help me, I might be in trouble.

Because Paige Bueckers is something else.

And apparently, she’s not going anywhere.

—

The night air hits us as we step out of the library, and it’s just cold enough to make me regret not grabbing a hoodie. Of course, Paige doesn’t seem bothered at all. She walks like she’s immune to weather. Or like the wind parts just for her. Probably both.

For a moment, it’s quiet. Awkwardly so. My favorite kind.

Then, Paige starts talking.

And when I say talking, I mean talking. Like she hasn’t spoken to another human being all day and I just unlocked the floodgates.

“So, like, I’ve had the same pair of slides since I was fifteen, right?” she says, hands in the front pocket of her hoodie. “They’re disgusting. Like, actually offensive. I think they’ve developed their own bacteria strain at this point. But I can’t get rid of them. They’re like emotional support shoes. You ever have something like that?”

I blink. “Uh…”

She barrels right past my lack of response. “And then Aaliyah tried to throw them out once when we were on the road and I almost tackled her in the hotel hallway. She was like, ‘Paige, they smell like shit.’ But they don’t. They smell like loyalty.”

She grins at her own joke. I say nothing.

Not because I don’t want to. But mostly because what?

I nod along, mostly to be polite. Or maybe out of shock. I’m not really sure.

She keeps going. “Also, can I ask you a question? Why do all chemistry textbooks weigh as much as small toddlers? Like, what are they putting in there? Guilt? Disappointment?”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, which unfortunately only fuels her further.

She talks about basketball. Then her best friend’s dog. Then how she’s still mad Chipotle took her favorite salsa off the menu. She has opinions on everything from cafeteria chicken to the superiority of Apple Music over Spotify (she’s wrong, but I let her have it).

And the weirdest part?

It’s not annoying.

It should be. But it’s not.

I listen. Mostly because I’m stunned by how easily she fills the space between us, how her voice softens when she gets excited and how, even when she’s rambling, she makes it feel like you’re part of the story.

It’s… unsettling.

I don’t do people like her. I don’t get people like her.

And yet here she is. Walking next to me. Talking like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

And then, as if this night couldn’t get any weirder, she slows down in front of my building.

I stop too.

Paige pauses, looking at the entrance. Then looks at me. “Wait—you live here?”

“Yeah,” I say slowly, pointing to the left. “Top floor.”

She blinks. “Shut up.”

“I will not.”

She grins, pointing to the right. “That’s my building.”

I stare at her for a second. Then glance up. Then back at her.

This cannot be real life.

“You’re telling me we’ve lived next to each other this whole time and this is the first time I’m finding out?”

I sigh. “This is just great.”

“Great?” she echoes, clearly amused.

“Yeah. Fantastic. Love this for me.”

She’s still smiling like this is the best coincidence to ever happen. Like fate just personally delivered her a win.

I just shake my head, digging my keys out of my pocket. “Well. Thanks for the walk. And the verbal TED Talk.”

She bows slightly. “Anytime.”

I turn to head inside, pausing with my hand on the door.

“Hey,” she calls.

I look back.

“Same time Thursday right?”

I nod once. “Sure.”

She salutes me with two fingers, still grinning, then turns and jogs up the steps to her building.

I stand there for a moment, key still in hand, trying to process everything. The tutoring. The talking. The proximity.

This is going to be a nightmare.

I let myself into the building, already craving sleep and silence and maybe a three-day nap. But even as I make it upstairs and fall face-first onto my bed, one thought keeps bouncing around my head like it’s got a key to the place:

Paige Bueckers is going to be a problem.

[pomelace]

everything but us

pairing: frank langdon x afab!reader

content warnings: angst, panic attack, emotional distress, patient death, grief, cheating, alcohol mention, kissing, guilt, medical trauma, no physical descriptiors used for reader, let me know if I missed anything!

magui speaks! : I don’t know where I wanted this to go, I started writing and couldn’t stop. it’s heavily inspired by all the tweets I keep seeing of people saying they want frank x mel cheating trop next season. hope you enjoy it and please send me ideas you have. I'm happy to write anything! 

word count: 2,485

The restroom door clicked shut behind you, sealing you in with the sound of your own unraveling. 

The fluorescent lights above flickered, harsh, and sterile, casting distorted shadows on the white tile walls. You clutched the edge of the sink, knuckles white, breath stuttering in short, ragged bursts. Your reflection in the mirror stared back like a stranger — eyes red-rimmed and wide, cheeks streaked with tears you couldn't recall starting.

You tried to breathe— in, out, in, out—but your chest felt caved in, lungs refusing to expand. Your scrubs were soaked under your arms, clinging to your trembling structure. You squeezed your eyes shut, as if you could block out the world, the hospital, the soft flatline that still echoed in your ears.

It happened so fast, there was no time to think—no time to figure out why.

The patient came in alert, smiling, laughing. She looked fine. You’d done everything right. Every test, every consult, every careful step. She was young. Healthy. Talking your ear off about her upcoming trip to Europe.

And then she wasn’t.

One moment her eyes were alive, full of light, full of plans, and then she went out like a candle. Her heart just… stopped. You reacted before the shock hit you. Gloves on. Code called. Epi drawn. You started compressions, fast and hard, trying to push life back into her.

It was all too much. Your hands didn't even feel like your own anymore; they were tingling, numbing at the fingertips, the sensation coming and going like a flickering static. You couldn’t catch your breath. Couldn’t stop the spiral. Patient after patient, life after life, slipping through your fingers. It felt like death clung to you, like you were cursed. Tainted. Everyone you touched seemed to fade. 

As if you carried a quiet plague you couldn’t shake.

You clung to the sink like it was the only thing anchoring you, your chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Head bowed; eyes shut tight. If you kept them closed long enough, you’d disappear, you’d fall into a place where none of this was real. 

Somewhere better. Somewhere safer.

But then, the soft creak of the door broke through the silence, and your eyes fluttered open. You didn’t need to turn around. Didn’t need to look in the mirror to know who it was.

Frank.

He had followed you. Of course he had. After you left in a blur, he stayed outside the restroom door, caught in hesitation. Weighing the moment. Debating whether to come in, whether to cross that invisible line.

But now, he’d made the choice.

His footsteps were quiet, deliberate—careful, like he was approaching something fragile. 

Frank’s brows knit together the moment he sees you—like he already knows. Like he felt it. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay; he knows you’re not. Instead, he stands next to you, shoulder brushing yours in a way that makes you ache and calm at the same time.

He lets the silence hang for a moment, heavy but bearable. You feel him glance sideways, like he’s waiting for you to say something, but also ready to just stand there with you if that’s what you need.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he says gently.

It was like he could read your mind; knew everything you were thinking in that moment. He knows you too well.

You hated him for it.

You shake your head, eyes still fixed on the small crack on the tile beneath your foot.

“I did everything right,” you whisper, voice cracking. “And it still wasn’t enough. I don’t think I’m cut out for this. I—I made a mistake.”

Frank exhales, and it’s not frustration—it’s empathy. He leans forward; hands clasped like he’s holding something fragile between them.

“You didn’t make a mistake,” he says quietly, turning his head just enough to meet your eyes. 

“You’re one of the best damn residents I’ve ever seen come through these doors.” And not because you always get it right—but because you care. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you real.”

You want to believe him. God, you want to. But all you can think about is the weight in your chest and the way his presence both soothes and burns.

“And what if caring is the thing that breaks me?” you ask, voice barely audible.

He turns toward you now, fully. His eyes search yours, and there’s something in them that feels too raw, too sincere. 

“Then I’ll be there to help pick up the pieces.”

The words linger in the air like a secret he wasn’t supposed to tell. And suddenly, you're not sure if the ache in your chest is from grief—or from him.

You almost hate the way the words make you feel better so soon, as you feel some of the tension in your shoulders release. Although your eyes are aligned on the tile, you can feel his eyes on you, and for some reason that thought makes something in your stomach swell. Your mouth works to say something, but no words come out, and you think he can sense your internal struggles, as he hesitantly reaches a hand to rest on your back, rubbing it in a way meant to soothe. It does make it better, though you’re left with a different type of ache in its place.

You swallow hard, your throat dry and tight. The warmth of his hand on your back is gentle, steady—and completely undoing. You hate how your body leans into it before your mind can stop you. How your breath stutters in your chest. How much you want something you can’t have.

No matter what you said, no matter how much you pushed him away, you always ended up here letting him comfort you, letting him in, even when you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t. 

You lifted your eyes from the floor, catching the reflection in the mirror. There he was, watching you, and for a moment, he saw what you saw: red, swollen eyes, a sniffing nose, and a pale, drained face. You hated being seen like this, hated that it was him seeing you like this.

Without hesitation, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. He wrapped you up without asking, pressing your head to his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. And that was the moment you broke. The tears came fast and hard, no longer quiet or hidden, and you sobbed into him with all the weight you’d been carrying. 

He didn’t flinch. He held you firmly, gently, like he’d been waiting for this, and he didn’t let go.

It felt warm. Too warm. Comforting in a way that made your chest ache. It was suffocating and soft, all at once. And you didn’t want it. 

You didn’t want to fall back into this—into him. 

You had told yourself last time would be the last, that you’d never let yourself crawl back into his arms, or worse, his bed. You swore you’d never kiss a married man again, never let his hands on you, even if the world would call this nothing more than a friendly embrace. But you knew better. You both did. This wasn’t casual. This was vulnerable. This was stripped bare, and you hated that it still felt like home.

And yet, you didn’t move.

You didn’t push him away, didn’t tell him to stop. You let his hands stay on you, let the silence stretch between you like thread pulling tighter and tighter. Your body betrayed everything your mind was screaming. Because despite everything, despite the guilt, the shame, the promises, you felt safe here. Held. Known.

You closed your eyes and let yourself breathe in, just once, just long enough to remember how it used to feel when things were simpler. When the lines were blurrier, and consequences felt far away.

But they weren’t far now. They were pressing in on you from every angle. His wife. Your career. The hollow ache in your chest that never really went away.

You opened your eyes and pulled back just slightly, just enough to look at him. His expression didn’t change—steady, unreadable, like always. But you saw the flicker behind his eyes. The guilt. The want. The knowing.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, voice hoarse. “We can’t.”

But even as you said it, your fingers were still tangled in his shirt, knuckles white, like you didn’t believe yourself.

“We aren’t doing anything,” he said.

His voice was calm, too calm, like he wanted to turn the moment into something innocent. Like if he said it softly enough, it would make it true. But it wasn’t. You know better. You weren’t imagining things—you could feel it in the way his hands lingered just a second too long, in the way his eyes dropped to your lips before finding your gaze again. You could feel it in the ache between you, the silence that hummed louder than any excuse ever could.

“Don’t do that,” you said, barely above a whisper. “Don’t make me feel crazy.”

He didn’t respond at first. Just looked at you like he was trying to figure out what the right answer was—what version of the truth would hurt the least.

But there was no version of this that didn’t hurt.

“We can’t,” you said, your voice shaking.

Still, he didn’t move. Still, you didn’t let go.

It was maddening—this closeness, this tension wrapped in denial. He wanted to pretend. You couldn’t. You were already bleeding from the truth.

“We can’t? Or you can’t?” he asked, like all of it—this mess, this weight—rested on your shoulders. Like the choice was only yours to make. But it wasn’t. He had started it, and now here he was, acting like this was normal. Like it didn’t mean anything.

Before, it had been simple. You hated each other. You pushed each other’s buttons, pulled loose threads until something snapped. Everything between you was a challenge of words, of pride. You walked all over each other, tore into each other’s work.

But he changed it.

One kiss. One stupid, drunken kiss behind closed doors. One moment where the fire between you flipped into something dangerous. That night ended with him in your bed, your bodies tangled together like you were trying to erase everything you’d ever said to each other. Since then, it hadn’t stopped. It hadn’t slowed. And now the rules were gone. Burned to ash.

And still, he looked at you like this was nothing. Like the lines he crossed didn’t matter unless you said they did.

“Don’t put this on me,” you said sharply, your voice cracking as you finally stepped back, out of his arms, out of the heat of him. Your body ached at the distance, but your pride demanded it. 

“You don’t get to make this my fault.”

He followed, closing the gap just enough to steal your breath again. 

“Why?” he asked, his tone low, edged in something sharp and bitter. 

“Because you don’t want to admit you’re wrong too?”

You scoffed, shaking your head. 

“This isn’t about being right or wrong, Frank. This isn’t a damn competition.”

He leaned in closer, eyes locked on yours, taking your space like he always did—slow, deliberate, like he knew how hard it was for you to hold your ground when he got this close. 

“Don’t act like you don’t want this.”

That hit something raw inside you. Your jaw clenched, your fingers curling at your sides. 

“I don’t want this,” you snapped, though the words felt like lies the moment they left your mouth. 

“I want peace. I want to walk into work without wondering if I’ll crumble the second you look at me like that.”

“And yet,” he said, voice softer now, “you always come back.”

You looked at him, blinking hard. 

“So do you.”

“But I don’t deny it,” he said, voice low as he took another step forward, closing the space, boxing you in until your back hit the wall.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“Call me sick,” he murmured, eyes burning into yours, “but I don’t regret an inch of it.”

The words landed like a blow. You flinched—not visibly, not enough for him to see—but inside, something cracked. Because part of you wanted to believe that. Wanted to believe the ache meant something. That this wasn’t just recklessness but need. That you weren’t the only one waking up every morning with the guilt still clinging to your skin.

But hearing him say it aloud—so bold, so unapologetic—made it real. And it made it worse.

Guilt surged up in you, thick and heavy. It filled every hollow place, pressing against your ribs until you felt like you might choke on it. You didn’t know what you hated more: the fact that he didn’t regret it… or the fact that a piece of you didn’t either.

He was close now—too close—and every inch of your body screamed to move, to escape, to walk away. But the part of you that had been holding on, the part that had wanted this even when you swore you wouldn’t… didn’t want to. And it terrified you.

His breath fanned across your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine, and you felt the tension in his body, the storm building just under the surface.

For a second, everything froze. His gaze flickered to your lips; the air thick with the weight of it. You wanted to pull back, wanted to say something, anything, to stop him from reading the way your chest was rising and falling too quickly, stop him from seeing how desperate your heart was to tear down the walls between you.

But then his hand was at your cheek, fingers gently brushing against your skin, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. It was a touch that felt too familiar, too intimate. And before you could think, before you could stop yourself, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was soft at first, almost tentative, like he was testing the waters. But that didn’t last. It deepened, the urgency behind it undeniable. His mouth moved against yours, warm, insistent, as if he were starving for this—starving for you. 

And you? You didn’t pull away. You didn’t stop him.

Instead, you kissed him back, the guilt slipping away in the heat of it, the noise in your head drowned out by the frantic beating of your heart.

When the kiss finally broke, you were both left breathless, your hands trembling at your sides. His forehead rested against yours, both of you silently grappling with what you let happen again, what you had just allowed.

And that was the moment you realized there was no going back anymore.

©pomelace 2025

[jackabbbot]

pairing: jack abbot x doctor!reader

summary: even when looking after your patients, you want to make sure jack is okay.

note: i wrote this on my phone whilst rewatching ep 12 and drinking every time im squeamish. its short. i’ve not read this back.

‘what does that even mean?’ jack looks at you, shaking his head. he shuffles his gait between his legs and you grab his hand. it’s big and strong, dwarfing your own hand.

‘it’s doesn’t matter,’ you say, shaking your head as you guide him towards a seat. pulling the stool towards you with your foot, you gently usher him down. ‘is it your hips or your leg?’

‘it’s nothing,’ he dismisses, trying to stand back up but your hand on his shoulder keeps him down. ‘i need to get back to work.’

aware of how long you’ve been touching him, you gently bring your hand away. at the very least, you want to preserve a small resemblance of professionalism at work, of all places.

‘you’re behind on your charting, anyway,’ bridget says, her eyebrow raised as she taps the computer in front of your husband. ‘sit down, and listen to your poor wife, for once.’

shooting her an appreciative look, you grab a tablet and look up at the screen. south 16 has a patient whose labs have come back. you take the case, having been one not touched since shift change.

‘hello,’ you introduce yourself to the patient, keeping just a sliver of curtain open. it allows you to keep an eye on your favourite attending. ‘your labs have just come back and your blood alcohol has returned to normal. this is great news as it means you can be discharged soon.’

‘thank fuck for that,’ the girl says, grabbing her phone. ‘and, it’s fucking dead, what the fuck. do you have a charger?’

‘yeah, i should do, let me check,’ you look down at the tablet and make a few notes. ‘okay, so your mom is on the way and i’ll come back if i’ve got a charger.’

‘great, i can’t wait to get out of this fucking place,’ she rolls her eyes and throws herself back on the bed. ‘it’s just a fucking nightmare. i just fell.’

‘your blood alcohol was 0.3. we have to make sure you’re sober before we let you go. in better news, though, that’s all we need to do before you need to go. your previous doctor has already gone through the care instructions for the cast.’

you make your way back into the er and jack has already left the seat. shooting a look to bridget, she just shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders.

‘hey, could you let me know when the patient in south 12’s mum gets here?’ you ask, finishing the last of your charting. she nods and the charge phone goes off.

you do a quick round to look for jack, knowing that there is someone coming in soon. he’s in the staff room, prosthetic off of his leg and is massaging it.

‘you okay, love?’ you ask, gently touching his shoulder. there aren’t that many people in the er as of yet so taking a little time isn’t particularly detrimental to anybody. ‘are you in pain?’

‘it’s okay,’ he shakes his head and tries to grab the prosthetic but you stop him. crouching down, you cup jack’s face in your hand.

‘it’s not okay. i know you say it’s almost constant but we have a moment. take a moment, please,’ you beg, taking over massaging his leg. he lets out a hiss and you brace jack’s head against your shoulder. ‘let me look after you for once.’

‘you always look after me,’ he starts, voice raspy. he points a finger at his heart. ‘you look after me here. all the time.’

he’s so sincere it makes your heart clench in your chest. your eyes well up just the slightest and you squeeze his hand, unable to say anything else.

you look deep into his beautiful hazel eyes and press a chaste kiss to his lips. it’s enough for now. it’s too much for work but far too little to truly express how you feel about him.

‘the charge phone went off before i came looking for you,’ you say, breaking the silence. ‘you can stay here and i’ll deal with it or someone else can.’

‘sweetheart, i’m fine,’ jack protests, kissing your knuckles. ‘i’ll be out in a minute.’

[stanart4clearskin]

queen i need more of ur stanford!art and best friend!reader from ur post on march eighth. i think abt it everyday it’s so good

it was hard watching your best friend ex-best friend have it all. he was the golden boy at stanford and everyone loved him. everyone wanted to be his friend, wanted to be something to him. it was so hard because you used to be everything to him and now you were nothing. you watched as art cycled through new best friends every few months and couldn’t help but smile. you knew it was awful to be happy when his friendships fell through, but it was what he deserved after what he did to you.

art had quickly learned that real friends were hard to come by. when you’re sought after, people will do whatever they need to do in order to get you to like them. countless people—who art thought could be real friends—showed their true colors after knowing him for a few months. they got comfortable and stopped putting up the facade that art first fell for. after his first three friendships went to shit, he sort of just stopped trying.

between class, tennis practice, and the occasional party, art stopped going out. he didn’t have anyone who he could just hangout with, so he stayed in his dorm bored out of his mind. during these mine numbing hours, art couldn’t help but think about you. when you had been friends, he’d usually be at your dorm watching a movie and taking shots every time a character said a specific word. art felt awful about the shitty things he’d said when he last saw you, but it was easier than being honest.

if art could back in time he would’ve told you the truth. he’d say that he knows he’s awful for never keeping up his end of his friend ship. he’d say that he got insecure when you started making new friends so in his mind the easiest way to cope was by making his own new friends and ignoring you. he’d say that not a day goes by where he misses you and that sometimes he goes to parties just to watch you across the room.

but art knows he’ll never say those things to you.

—

after midterms were over, all you wanted to do was lock yourself in your dorm and sleep all day, but your friends had other plans. after much convincing and some threatening, your friends had persuaded you to put on a hot outfit and come with them to a local frat party. although you’d never admit it out loud, you hoped that art would be there so that he could apologize for the things he’d done and said. or maybe so you could stare at him across the room. either was fine for you.

the party was sweaty and loud, much like any frat party. students were either making out with each other on any surface they could or downing alcohol like there was no tomorrow. your friends dragged you into the kitchen and poured shots which you all downed. a few rounds of beer pong later, you eventually ended up alone. some of your friends were whisked away by their partners or found someone to hook up with upstairs.

as you awkwardly held a half full solo cup and people watched from your spot on a couch, you noticed a familiar head of blond hair. it was hard to miss art in a party like this. he was tall and his hair always seemed to be glowing in a way that drew your eyes to it. you watched as he stood around on a circle, laughing with his friends. your heart clenched at the sight because once upon a time that had been you.

after downing your drink, you headed back to the kitchen for a refill, only to come face to face with your ex-best friend. his blue eyes were wide in shock as he stared at you. he’d wanted to talk to you sometime during this party, but he had yet to mentally prepare for the moment.

“h-hi,” he stammered, nervously licking his lips. his face was already red but you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from seeing you. you hoped it was the latter.

you gave him a tight lipped smile. sure he’d screwed you over, but it was nice to be polite to everyone—even to the people you were mad at. “hi.”

art glanced over your shoulder, as if expecting someone to have been with you. “where are your friends?” he asked, both hands clutching his solo cup like a lifeline.

“not here,” you answered shortly, turning your attention away from art and to the drinks. art frowned slightly as you topped your cup off. he wasn’t used to you giving him one-word answers or your deadpan expression.

he nodded. “so you’re just by yourself then?” he watched as you stiffened slightly at his question. “you could hangout with me,” he offered.

you couldn’t help but scoff at his audacity—you relished in the way he winced. “no thanks,” you said, turning on your heels and storming out of the kitchen.

—

after that interaction, art couldn’t get you off his mind. countless times he drafted up a long apology text, but he could never get himself to send it. he desperately wanted you back in his life and one night after one too many drinks, he was determined to get you back.

it was around three in the morning when you woke up from a text from art. your heart raced at the notification because it was something you hadn’t seen in years.

i know i was a shitty awful friend to you. i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness, but i just wanted to tell you that i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i stopped responding to your texts or never tried to make plans with you. i know this sounds so stupid, but i was insecure and afraid. i saw that you were making new friends and i was afraid that you’d leave me for them so i figured to ease the heartbreak by leaving you first. in hindsight i was stupid and idiotic and dumb and i wish i’d never done that. i wish i’d just held on to you a little tighter so that we’d still be friends today. you’re still my best friend and i love you, i’m sorry.

by the time you were two sentences in, you had already started crying. you had missed art so much and it was a relief to see that he had missed you two. you knew that starting your friendship again wasn’t going to be easy, but you missed your best friend.

there were so many times were i tried to hate you but i couldn’t. even after everything you put me through i could never hate you because you’re my best friend. i don’t think any amount of time apart could ever change that. i wish you had known that i’d never leave you for any other friend. you’ve been with me through thick and thing and i love you. no other friendship could even come close to that. i miss you.

[loving-barnes]

EVAN BUCKLEY - MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR

Author's note: I have something new for you. Because I have a crush on Evan Buckley from 911, I have decided to write a fic. And it might not be the last. Yes, I know it's easter, but I was feeling a bit more festive. So, enjoy. I hope some of you will.

Summary: Y/N was invited to the Christmas dinner with the 118.

Pairing: Evan Buckley x female reader

Warning: none

Rating: 15+

Words: 4200+

Masterlist | Evan Buckley Masterlist

EVAN BUCKLEY - MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR

This year, the Christmas celebration was held at the 118 station. The “A-shift” was working through the most wonderful day of the year. With that, or a few weeks before, came the idea of having a Christmas party at the station. Everyone was invited—everyone who was somehow related to each member of the fire station. Many people were expected, including kids. 

Bobby was happy to cook the turkey and ham at the station. His wife promised to make mashed potatoes, and bring peas and baked vegetables. Other firefighters brought food to the table - some sweet, others savoury. They wanted to be sure that there was plenty of food for everyone invited. 

Maddie drove with Y/N to the station. Both women wore Santa hats for the occasion and dressed casually as requested. The brunette kept eyeing her, grinning. “Are you excited?” she asked. 

Y/N squinted. “What’s with that face? What’s going on behind those eyes, huh?” 

Maddie parked the car at the station. “Nothing, nothing,” she shook her head, still grinning like a maniac. There was a silence for a good five seconds. “Just, thinking that you’ll be under the same roof with Buck.”

There it was, again. “Oh, that’s what’s happening,” she glared at her friend. “Listen, just because I confessed I have a tiny crush on your brother, doesn’t mean you get to have a field day with this.” 

“It’s cute, actually,” she said. “And the thought of you and my brother is appealing.” The brunette turned to her friend. “Okay, I have a confession.”

“Oh no.”

“There were two reasons why I brought you that night to meet everyone,” said Maddie. Before Y/N could send her to hell, she continued. “Yes, I wanted you to meet other people. You were new in the city and had no friends. But I wanted you to meet my little brother.”

“Meddler,” Y/N glared at her. “That’s what I’m gonna call you.”

“You two have so much in common! Exercising? Video games? Cooking / baking?!” she said excitedly. “Besides, there is a spark between you two.” 

They got out of the car and headed to the trunk to get the baked goods they brought. “I don’t know what you see, Mads, but I don’t see any spark. I don’t think your brother is interested in me at all. He’s just friendly. So, please, just drop it, okay?” 

Once the truck was locked, they walked inside the station. Maddie held a big box with sugar cookies and regular cookies. She decided to change the topic. “This year we are so lucky to have Christmas and New Year’s off,” the brunette said, cheerfully. 

Y/N carried a tray with a punch cake. It was heavy, but she was proud she could bake it on time. Everyone would get a piece or two. “You have plans for New Year’s?” she asked. 

“Athena and Bobby are having a New Year’s party at their house,” she said. “Chim and I are going. Didn’t they tell you?” 

Y/N looked at her friend, shaking her head. “N-no. But, that’s okay. I’ll just have a nice evening on the couch, watching TV and-”

Maddie stopped and turned to Y/N. “No, you are coming with us. Besides, they decided about three days ago. They will let you know about it, I’m sure of it.” 

“I don’t want to intrude,” Y/N sighed. “So, if they don’t say anything to me tonight, I’ll know I am not invited and that’s fine. I have a rule: don’t go anywhere you are not invited.” 

Maddie was about to protest, but they just landed on the last steps of the upper level. The place was nicely decorated. Ornaments hung around the bannisters and the ceiling. A Christmas tree was shining with multiple colours. And, of course, there were mistletoes. It was magical.

With the big boxes, it took both women a second to walk up the stairs. Many people were present, so they greeted everyone with a loud “Merry Christmas!” 

Cheerful greetings started from every side. Bobby was the first to appear, taking Maddie’s box first, then hugging her once he put it away. Athena jumped in, taking Y/N’s tray of punch cake. “Oh my god, you baked that?” she asked. 

Y/N nodded with a smile. “I did. We bake it every year on Christmas - also, a non-alcoholic version. There is only a punch scent,” she explained. “Otherwise we put rum in it.” 

“You have to give me a recipe and show me how to bake it,” Athena smelled the cake through a plastic wrap, her eyes rolled back. “Damn, that smells delicious. It’s gonna be hard putting off those extra holiday pounds when I see all these goods.” 

Athena served the cookies and punch cake. She put half and half on plates and set each on one side of the narrow table. 

Chim greeted Maddie with a deep kiss. Hen came to hug Y/N as well as Karen did. At this point, they knew Y/N well. The moment Maddie brought her to the bar that fateful night, she became part of this family. And it was nice, having this many people in her life. They looked for one another, they cared for each other. It was nice. It was special. 

“Y/N!” She heard Christopher’s cheerful voice. He slowly walked to her, a big smile plastered over his face. Her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug. “Merry Christmas, Chris. Maddie and I brought sweets,” she winked at him. 

“What kind?” 

“Sugar cookies, regular cookies and I made a punch cake. It’s a Christmas cake I make with my family during Christmas,” she explained to him. “It’s really good.”

“Can’t wait to try it,” he said excitedly. 

That kid was amazing. Even with cerebral palsy, he could do so much stuff. And he made everyone’s day better. His attitude was always positive. Y/N admired him and Eddie. 

Speaking of Eddie, he approached them, sweeping his son into his arms. It made Chris laugh. “Hey, Y/N. Glad you could make it,” he smiled at the woman. 

“Y/N.” Buck approached the young woman with a smile on his face. His hands spread wide. He was ready for a hug. “Merry Christmas.” 

There he was. The man who made her head spin. The man who made her heartbeat speed up like a race car. Buck was her Christmas wish. Somewhere deep in her fantasies, she imagined coming up to Santa and wishing for Buck to like her back. 

“Buck, Merry Christmas,” she greeted him, hugging the firefighter. 

This wasn’t the first time they hugged. They did it a couple of times. It turned into a causal thing between them. And damn, he smelled nice. Those strong arms around her; his body pressed against her… No, don’t go there. 

“I saw you brought a big tray,” he wiggled his brows. 

“I made a punch cake,” she said. How many times did she say it already? “So, I hope you’ll take a piece and tell me what you think since you’ve dipped your fingers into the culinary world.” There was a teasing grin on her face. 

“It’ll be my pleasure,” he bowed his head a little. “You accept criticism, right?” 

She made a face. “I do, don’t worry. You can go all Gordon Ramsay on me. I won’t mind. But I bet you’ll say only nice things about my baking skills.” 

Buck looked around, his eyes landing on a plate with sweets. He reached for a piece of punch cake and took a bite. Y/N watched him chew. He hummed, made a face and then swallowed. 

“Fuck, that’s one good cake,” he cursed and shoved the rest of the piece into his mouth. More humming came out of his throat. It made Y/N giggle. “Very on theme, very well baked from a pretty, skilful baker.” 

Pretty and skilful or pretty skilful, she wondered. Don’t get your hopes high.

“Is everyone here?” They heard Athena call. Buck and Y/N looked at her, wondering what this was about. “If you could all gather for a Christmas group photo on this side of the table.” 

People started to move around, walking to one side of the table for the photo. “Who’s gonna take the picture?” Chim asked. 

“Self-timer,” Bobby replied as he set the camera on a tripod. 

Y/N wanted to stand on the very edge of the photo. That’s where she belonged even when she knew these people well. It was only fitting. But a hand reached for her, pulling her. Her eyes found Buck pulling her more to the middle. He made her stand next to him. His arm wrapped around her lower back, pushing her closer to his body. Maddie was slightly bent forward with Chim. Eddie was next to Buck with Christopher standing in front of him.

It was a simple gesture. This proved she was part of the brave family that saved lives - 911 dispatchers, Firefighters, Paramedics and Police officers. First responders. 

“Everyone, say ‘Merry Christmas’!” Athena called. 

“Merry Christmas!” The whole group shouted as several photos were taken thanks to a self-timer. 

This was the first Christmas that felt nice. Last year, she was alone, back in her hometown, sad and depressed. She would laugh at people if someone told her that Christmas could be magical again. Look where she was now. 

Y/N took a deep breath to suppress her tears. This was not the time to cry. It was time to be joyful. 

“The camera will be available for anyone who wants to take a picture after dinner. Now, let’s eat before the bell rings,” Bobby ordered with a big smile. 

People started to mingle around, finding a place to sit. Maddie sat down next to Chim and called Y/N to sit beside her. Eddie, Chris and Buck walked around and sat across them. 

“I am starving,” Buck called. 

Peas were passed around. Mashed potatoes and a bowl of other vegetables and then cut portions of turkey and ham. People put anything they wanted on their plates. Laugher echoed around the firehouse as well as the sound of clinking dishes. 

The food was delicious. Y/N had to admit she had never had mashed potatoes that were this creamy and rich. The meat was juicy and perfectly marinated. Bobby did an excellent job, as she learnt from the people around her. 

“I’m gonna be in a food coma,” she commented after finishing her plate. “It was delicious.” 

“I told you. Bobby is like Guy Fieri,” Buck looked into her eyes.

Y/N felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She glanced at the screen. A sigh escaped her lips. It was a text from a relative who wrote to her for Christmas. The last thing she wanted was a message from them. She licked her lips and put the phone back. 

Maddie’s eyes were on her. She noticed the shift of energy from her friend. “Everything okay?” 

“Yes,” Y/N put a smile on her face. “Just got Christmas wishes.”

No more questions were asked. Good. She didn’t need people to feel sorry for her. She didn’t want to dwell on the past, no matter how hard or sad it was. 

As the party continued, and without any calls, people formed groups and talked. They eat the cookies or the punch cake. They drank water, juice or other non-alcoholic beverages. Now was the perfect opportunity to find a secluded spot to think for a moment. And that’s what Y/N did. 

She walked to the other side of the upper floor where no one was present. It gave her the space to be alone but not leave the party. All she needed was five minutes, maybe ten. Y/N took her phone out and looked at the text. It made her stomach twist and turn unpleasantly. No, she won’t react to the text. She won’t do anything about it. 

“Hey.” 

Her head snapped up from the phone. She quickly put it in her pocket again. “Hey, Buck.” 

“Y-you okay?” His steps stopped by her side. He leaned against the wooden bannister. His eyes looked around the firehouse. The engines were parked, waiting to be taken on a call. Boy, he hoped they wouldn’t have to leave anytime soon. 

“Uh, yeah,” she smiled at him. “I’m just checking with my relatives. That’s all.” It was a half-truth. 

“Come on, we’re friends. We’ve known each other for months. You don’t have to pretend or lie. Is everything okay, Y/N?” His body turned to face her. 

She opened her mouth, then closed it. How could she tell him about her life? She hated going back in the past, reliving the memories that had happened. “Uh, it’s a little complicated,” she said. “Last Christmas, I spent it alone, back in my hometown. It was a challenging year. Tragic, I dare to say.” 

Buck’s hand appeared on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “Okay, I’m not gonna push-”

“It’s okay,” she jumped in. “My father passed away 2 years ago - prostate cancer. It happened after Christmas.” 

“Oh, sorry about that,” he sighed. “You and your mom must-”

“I’m not in contact with my mother,” she said. “Or I’m not trying to be. Our relationship is bad. Let’s leave it like that for now.” 

She could see in Buck’s eyes he wanted to ask. His lower lip trembled. One nod of his head, he decided to let it go. “You’ve spent last Christmas alone?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t feel like celebrating. I felt lost and not festive. Now, it’s different. I feel like I belong somewhere again.” Y/N looked at the people at the table. They laughed, chatted and enjoyed the rest of the food. 

“You are with us, now. You are part of this big heroic family. We get to save lives, some of us risk our own and feel like heroes for a moment,” he laughed. 

“Like I said before, I like I’m doing something meaningful. No matter how mentally challenging this job is. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you.” Y/N turned to him. Her elbow rested against the bannister. Her head tilted to the side. “You go in the field, risk your life. Hope to survive and then do it again.” 

He chuckled. “Yeah. Some days it’s easier than others. But, I wouldn’t change this work for anything. I love my job. I love what I’m doing.” 

She nodded. “I get it. I do. I love my job, too. It was the best decision to…” Her speech faltered when her eyes noticed Maddie on the other side of the room, making weird faces at her. At first, she made kissy faces. Then she pointed with her finger up. 

Y/N’s eyes lifted just as Buck turned his head to see what was happening behind his back. There was a mistletoe above them. It was one of the many that hung around the firehouse. Buck looked back at Y/N and saw her attention above them. Now, he too discovered the mistletoe. 

He chuckled under his nose. “I don’t think I’ve noticed that.” 

She shook her head in disbelief. “I didn’t either.” Her cheeks got warmer and she bit her lip nervously. “But I recall I’ve seen a few around the place when we arrived.”

Buck made a small step to her, a smile never leaving his face. He cleared his throat. “You know the rules, right?” 

“Uh, enlighten me,” she said. 

“Well,” he licked his lips. “It’s all just superstition, but it is said that if the people don’t just kiss under the mistletoe, they’ll get one year of bad luck.” 

That made her laugh. “Oh, is that right?” 

He took another step closer. The gap between them closing. His eyes travelled around her face - her eyes, her nose and then her lips. “You don’t want a year of bad luck, do you?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Good.” His hand lifted to her face and he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. He was so close now. She could feel his body heat radiating from him. “Well, now you’re gonna have to kiss me then.” 

She made a face, trying to hold back her laughter. Her eyes locked on his. “Or maybe you’ll have to kiss me,” she dared back. 

He was surprised by that response, by her boldness. “If that’s what you want,” he whispered. One of his hands found the back of her neck as he gently pulled her closer to his body. Slowly, their lips connected in their first, gentle kiss. 

They tested the waters. At first, it was light as a feather, lips barely touching. Then, the second time their lips pressed together, it was bolder, proper. Her hands slowly crawled up his chest and wrapped around his neck as the third kiss got more heated. His tongue swiped over her lower lip, asking for entrance. She did. Their tongues collided, explored and danced together. 

Y/N didn’t want the kiss to end. His arms, the hold he had on her was what she needed. His kisses were what she secretly dreamt of. However, a higher power, or in other words, his co-workers had a different plan. 

Shouting and clapping echoed from the other side of the level. Their kiss broke when they heard the cheering. Y/N pressed her forehead against his uniform, blushing. With that scene, everyone was looking at them now. 

Buck turned his head, glaring at everyone. “Way to ruin the moment,” he huffed. 

When Y/N pushed her body from him and looked at the people, she noticed Maddie giving her thumbs up. “Your sister is gonna be insufferable now and I mean it affectionately.” 

“Uh, what now?” Buck looked at her. 

She shook her head, laughing awkwardly. Y/N waved a hand. “So, no bad luck now, huh?” 

His hand moved to her warm cheek. A thumb brushed the skin under her eye. “Yeah. I guess the bad luck was avoided, thanks to me.” 

Y/N snorted. “So, you are basically taking the credit, huh?” 

“It was me who kissed you,” he teased. 

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Of course, what was I expecting?” This silliness between them was adorable. 

Buck leaned in some more. He inhaled her scent, enjoying the vanilla perfume she wore. “Maybe you should thank me for saving you from a year of bad luck,” he hummed. His nose brushed against her. 

A gentle nod. A whisper of “okay”. She leaned more, their lips meeting again in another kiss. One of his hands appeared on the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. The kiss deepened. A soft moan escaped her lips.

The bell began to ring again. It was another call and the firefighters had to respond. Buck pulled away. “Wait till we are back?” 

“O-okay,” she nodded eagerly and watched him run downstairs with the rest of his team. Christmas or not, they were at work and were needed somewhere more. 

Y/N licked her lips. Her eyes were locked on the fire engine until it was out of sight. Her mind was clouded by the feeling of Buck’s lips on her. The way he held her, how he made her feel. This was a dream, right? 

“Y/N,” Athena’s voice brought her back from the cloud. There was a smirk on her lips. “I’m not gonna ask questions about what happened here, but I’m gonna do is invite you to our New Year’s party. Bobby and I decided to leave this year with a bang.” Before Y/N could reply, she added, “Buck’s gonna be there.” 

Her cheeks warmed up again. “Thank you for inviting me. I guess I can change my traditional plans for a party with you all.” 

Athena raised a brow. “What are your traditional plans?” 

“Watching TV, eating food and falling asleep before midnight,” Y/N chuckled. 

“My kind of evening,” Athena patted her shoulder. 

Together they walked back to the table where the friends and family members talked. “I used to party when I was younger,” said Y/N. “That changed with age. The moment I turned 21, it was like the magic disappeared. Since then, I’m not a party girl.” 

Athena handed her a phone. “Give me your number. I still want the recipe for that delicious punch cake. Plus, I want you to show me how to bake it.” 

Two hours later, half of the people left. Karen took Denny home with Christopher and his aunt. Michael took May and Harry to his place. Maddie, Athena and Y/N cleaned up the place. They put the remaining food into the containers. Y/N cleaned the dishes with Maddie and Athena cleared the table. 

“So,” Maddie grinned at Y/N. “Everyone saw you kissing my brother.” 

“Your brother kissed me,” she fought back with a smile. “It was the mistletoe.” 

Maddie rolled her eyes. “If it were just the mistletoe, you wouldn’t be making out like that. It was the push you needed.” 

“Maddie, let the girl be,” Athena chimed in. 

“Come on. Don’t say you don’t support this,” Maddie sighed. “It’s adorable.” 

“Oh, I’m rooting for Buckoo and Y/N. But everyone saw this intimate moment between them which can be a bit embarrassing. So, let them figure things out first.”

Y/N sighed. “You are talking as if I’m not here.” 

After the place was clean and all three women remained at the station alone, Y/N checked the time. “I promised Buck to wait for him, but I should get going. Will you drive me home, please?” she looked at Maddie. 

The brunette nodded. They said goodbye to Athena, who was already on her way out of the station. Both women grabbed their belongings just as the firetrucks returned to the station. 

Maddie smiled at Y/N. “We’ll meet in the car, okay? Take your time. I’m gonna grab Chim for a minute too.” 

Y/N stood on the lower floor, watching as they parked all the vehicles. Bobby was already out, coordinating the parking. He raised his hand to signal the drivers to stop. His head turned to the woman. 

“Hey, Y/N,” he smiled. “You still here?” 

“We just finished cleaning the kitchen to take some work off your shoulders,” she said. “Leftovers are in the fridge, as well as the punch cake. It’s better when it is chilled. Cookies are on the counter.” 

Eddie and Buck left the engine together. Smiles were plastered over their faces until they noticed Y/N and Bobby talking. Well, Buck’s smile got even bigger. “You still here?” Eddie asked. 

“I was just about to leave.” 

“Thank you for coming here and celebrating Christmas with us,” said Bobby. He hugged her. The gesture was sweet. 

Eddie came in next, wrapping his arms around her. “Loverboy wants to talk,” he whispered. It made her laugh. “Merry Christmas.”

Once she was free, Buck approached her. His hand reached forward. Y/N grabbed it and let him take her to a secluded part of the firehouse. They didn’t need any more eyes on them. 

“I guess I came just in time,” he smiled. 

“Everyone already left and it’s getting late,” she replied, holding his hand. Buck never let go.

“Listen,” he pulled her closer to him. “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tomorrow evening if you are available?” 

“I’d love that,” she nodded. The smile on her face was the brightest Buck had ever seen. God, could he get any more smitten with her? His heart wanted to escape out of his chest. “My shift ends at 6 PM. Where do we meet?” 

“Your place,” he said. “I’ll be the perfect gentleman. I’ll pick you up at eight. You’ll have enough time to get ready after work. I’ll take you to a nice restaurant where we’ll wine and dine. Then, we can take a walk and after I’ll safely bring you back home.” 

She bit her lower lip, trying to keep herself composed. “Sounds lovely. I can’t wait.” 

“Great. Great,” he nodded.

They stood there, eyes staring into one another. For a few seconds, they didn’t do anything. It was a bit awkward. Buck decided to take the step. His right hand pressed gently against her cheek. He stepped towards her and leaned to kiss her lips. It was simple and sweet. Her hands brushed against his chest. 

Buck pulled away first. “Damn, you should go. Otherwise, I won’t let you.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, grinning. “Okay, firefighter Buckley. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight. I can’t wait.” 

“Me too.” 

Reluctantly, their touch disconnected and Y/N walked away from the station. Again, the smile that decorated her face signified nothing but pure happiness. Her head was again on cloud nine, thinking about his lips. She almost bumped into Maddie’s car. 

Y/N hopped into the car, meeting Maddie’s curious eyes. “What?” she asked. 

Maddie made a face. “Well? How did it go?” 

“We…” Y/N took a deep breath. “We are going on a date tomorrow evening.” 

“Yes!” Maddie shouted excitedly. “I’m so glad things are finally moving between you two. Ah. And I am not feeling bad that I meddled between you,” she clapped her hands. 

Y/N shook her head in disbelief. “Do I wanna know what you mean by that?” 

“I’ll tell you some other time,” Maddie giggled. 

She started the car and drove Y/N back to her apartment. Looking back at the day, it was indeed the most wonderful time of the year. 

[thecutesyfishtank]

The cycle is repeating to a perfect T at this point, down to even interacting with minors while now an NSFW/18+ only blog. This really does just prove my whole point that Salem is actively fine making his audience more susceptible to grooming and now really makes me know he never changed.

(Some of the evidence here is from before people got informed the minor goes by he/him, so I want no one saying she/her under here or anything or I will block you because even the people when informed have from now on used he/him)

Also just a note. A note that should be fucking obvious since I've been harrassed myself before even any of this and then during some of this stuff because I'm vocal as fuck. Don't. Harrass. Anyone.

If you see this kind of shit they're doing it's better to just block and report. Wis' nazi shit? Report her. Salem being transphobic to other transpeople or ableist to other disabled people? Just report him. They aren't worth your time to harrass even.

No one is! No one is worth your time for this much stuff! The only reason I even made this post in the first place was awareness. Not cancelation. I wanted more people to wanna hold him accountable and not just sweep his grooming, asian racism, and fetishization of transfems aside. I wanted to believe he changed since I don't personally know him. The cycle is repeating to a T though. Even to the point he really trying to throw false accusations of Luluyam using aave and some people of his audience or Wis' saying she said the n word on one of her tracks. No proof, no nothing like the list upon lists I have put here, just said it and people went off.

Not to mention Wis especially associating with a r@pist, Majora(who has admitted it and even keeps changing her username because people also found out she lied about being a trans woman as an AFAB that was raised AFAB). And Salem just going with it, Salem. Sit down with me for a moment because I know you will somehow see this and vague me or some shit like Wis does too probably. There's such thing as just cutting someone off, but you refuse to. Why is it that you're fine with Wis using so much nazi speech against people mad at you for actual grief and trauma you have caused on them? Because if you weren't, you know what is something you could do? Talk to her and tell her to stop saying someone isn't their ethnicity or race(as a fucking white woman herself), tell her using nazi dog whistles isn't okay, and that she should probably seek help if she genuinely thinks calling someone a groomer without proof is okay when she has the same age gap as the person she's calling a groomer.

And last but not least, get the fuck away from children. Use the block button, you don't need minors stroking your ego. You have enough adults around you already, clearly, that do that. And if you wanna vague post this, I want you to not leave a single thing out, say how you're now knowingly interacting with someone outed as a minor. Say how you gf is being a nazi and even using things against people she says used these same tactics against her(ableism, transphobia, and such). If you all want me really to link every single post to show all that? Fine. Since I have to hold everyone's hand, let's go then.

^ Last one includes alot about r@pe

And the other ones I can fit as the same type of link so

More

More

More

This is the woman we're really treating as above it all and a god send for dating a black transmasc? Really? And how Salem has to know about all of this because it has been archived and everyone knows he's constantly checking the archive blog. So he knows, he just- doesn't care!

Wis even saying Luluyam is a fucking pedo-

Also just some... more ✨️sexualization✨️ of another culture

As well before you call this "drama"(referring to the countless dickriders that genuinely have nothing better to do than to try and discount others trauma because "But these are the artists I like and so they're always good! UmU"), how is making minors more susceptible to grooming "drama", how is harrassing and falsely accusing anyone with issues with you "drama", how is sexualizing other cultures and then blaming it on mental illness(in the Kungfu Revvy case) "drama"?

Is the only term you all have when you don't wanna listen to how people are having their lives harmed that "You're making a racist hate campaign, this is drama!"? Is that it? Okay, then show evidence that disproves all of this instead of running your fucking mouths like the crackers you are.

Since reblogs aren't allowed on this, I thought I would link to why people are mad at Puppy-chan rebranding to Salem.

Stop coddling people that have done racist things and even sent NSFW to minors and rbed NSFW back when he had a minor audience

I knew wolfertinger666 felt familiar the momemt I saw Tammy and Magna, but I refused to bring up what Salem did as Puppychan because I was scared people wouldn't believe me and instead keep believing Salem is innocent.

[internetdaddy98]

The Ties That Bind Us - Chapter 22

Previous | Next [Series Masterlist]

Content Warning: medical procedures; mutual pining; angst: yelling; power dynamics

The ER didn’t stop spinning just because your world had.

You kept about your work as if nothing was happening, your smile brittle and your hands steady. No one could tell—at least not the patients. But the nurses noticed the silence. The residents noticed the way you and Robby barely made eye contact now, orbiting around each other with carefully measured professionalism. And Dana? Dana noticed everything.

“Jesus,” Dana muttered under her breath, sidling up beside you at the patients board, voice pitched low. “You two look like you just walked out of a war zone.”

“We didn’t walk out,” you said lightly, flipping through charts without looking up. “We’re still in it.”

Dana glanced at you, brow raised. “Want me to lock you both in the supply closet and not let you out until one of you apologizes?”

You gave a dry laugh. “I think we passed apologies a week ago.”

Across the ER, Robby was briefing a pair of residents on a difficult intubation, calm and cool and perfectly detached. But you knew better. You could feel it—like weather pressure, like static before a storm. He was angry. Not just about the job offer, but about you. About you both.

She wasn’t blameless. She knew that. But it didn’t make it easier to breathe around him.

They hadn’t said more than five words to each other in two days.

-----------------------------------------------

“Dr. Williams, I need a word.”

Robby’s tone cut through the hallway. You didn’t even try to hide your eye roll as you spun on your heel, blood-stained gloves still on your hands, and stalked into the empty trauma room. He followed, closing the door with a sharp click.

“What?” you snapped, turning on him. “If this is about the chest tube, I stand by my call.”

“That’s not the issue and you know it.” Robby’s jaw was tight. “You should’ve waited for imaging before pushing the central line.”

“And waste five minutes while the patient decompensates? I made a judgment call. It was the right one.”

“You bypassed protocol.”

“You were slow.”

The words came out before you could stop them.

His expression darkened. “Excuse me?”

“You hesitated,” you pressed, arms crossing. “You stood there second-guessing while his pressure tanked. I acted.”

They were inches apart now. The overhead fluorescents buzzed softly. The air was thick with unspoken tension.

“You want to throw that in my face?” he asked, voice low, dangerous. “Fine. But don’t pretend this is just about a patient.”

“Oh, you want to go there?”

“Maybe I do,” he growled. “Because ever since that rooftop fight, you’ve been gunning for control in every goddamn case like you’ve got something to prove.”

You stepped forward, chest rising with the heat bubbling up. “I had a plan. I was right. You just didn’t trust me enough.”

His eyes darkened, tone dropping an octave. “Don’t turn this into something it isn’t.”

“You think because you’ve been doing this longer that your call is always better?”

“No, I think because I’ve seen more people die than you’ve had birthdays, I get to trust my gut.”

Your face paled.

Something in his stomach dropped—but you didn’t give him time to take it back.

“Wow,” you whispered, shaking your head. “There it is. You don’t see me as your equal. You never have.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“But that’s exactly what you said.”

You turned away, fists clenched at your sides, trying to keep the tears back through pure will.

And he hated it. Hated that she looked small and tired and furious all at once. Hated that he couldn’t fix this. That he had caused it.

“Y/N,” he said, quieter now.

He stared at her, chest rising and falling. His voice dropped to something quieter—rougher.

“You used to trust me.”

“I still do. I just don’t have to agree with you.”

Robby stepped closer. Too close. “No. You don’t see me anymore. You see someone trying to hold you back.”

“That’s not fair,” you said, breath catching. “You don’t get to pull that card when I’m just doing what you taught me to do.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, tone bitter. “Overrule your co-attending? Make a scene in front of the whole team?”

“You think this is about ego?”

“I think it’s about us.” His eyes burned into yours. “Or the fact that we haven’t talked about anything since that night. But hey—congrats. You got the upper hand.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. “You’re such an asshole sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

His voice cracked just slightly with frustration, and for one flickering second, something like vulnerability slipped through.

They were standing too close again.

Fury tangled with longing.

It would’ve been so easy to kiss him. So easy to throw yourself into the fire just to feel something that wasn’t this ache.

But you tore your gaze away instead.

“This isn’t going to work if you keep seeing me as competition.”

“And it won’t work if you keep trying to win every fight,” he shot back.

Another pause. Another breath neither of them took.

Dana’s voice floated in. “If you two are done emotionally sparring in there, we’ve got a femur fracture rolling up”

You let out a breath. Robby stepped back.

They didn’t move.

Not for a full beat.

Then, without another word, they turned and walked out—side by side, silent, each burning for a different reason.

[angeliteeyes]

Multifandom: Caleb (LADS), Castorice and Sparkle (HSR), Ei and Ganyu (GI)

I adore aus where the characters are aware of you in some way even though they're still in another world. My favorite of those concepts is an au where instead of them being your favorite gacha characters, you're THEIR fave.

I like to imagine that this version of them doesn't take place in their reality that we know of ingame. Instead, it's more of a modern au where they're just as chronically online and cringe as us lmao. Spamming their social media accounts when you get a new card (or whatever your game does) in all caps, falling asleep to videos of you talking. Maybe even writing long, angry replies on Reddit defending you and how you're best char. Here's some of the characters I feel particularly suit this idea

cw: mental illness (they're gacha addicts what else would you expect lol), mentions of death, light angst for some characters

-Caleb-

Listen, I can't NOT talk about Caleb here. This concept is practically made for his clingy, traumatized ass.

In this version of him, I imagine he started out pretty normal for a while actually, making friends pretty easily in his youth and all of that. Slowly but surely, though, things shifted. Family deaths piled up at an age where he just wasn't ready to handle that kind of emotional burden and... well, you know how guy friendships can be. He didn't really feel like he could turn to any of his real friends the way that he desperately needed to stop his entire world from falling apart.

And then there was your bright smile on his screen all of a sudden. He'd seen ads for the game you're in before, but he never got around to actually trying it out. Until that fateful day. After having gone through yet another funeral, his brain felt so fried and tired that he barely even processed his finger movements as he went through all the install screens, clicking the repetitive buttons and whatnot.

It's not like there's something wrong with the other characters or anything. They're fine and all, but he quickly started to realize just how much you stood out to him. How soothing everything about you was, as if you were actually there telling him everything would be okay. It doesn't take very long before he's full-on obsessed with you.

As a fan, he'd be so so pathetically jealous. Of course, he logically understands that he can't stop other people from looking at you, pulling for you, loving you... But holy hell if he doesn't want to just have you for himself, as ridiculous and impossible the notion is. He's the type of dude who'd legit get so heated over seeing someone mischaracterize you that he'd either send them a 1000 word rant or insta-block them. No in-between.

And yes, he would listen to your sweet voice every time he feels particularly lonely or grief hits too hard. You aren't going to judge him for crying, after all.

-Castorice-

Castorice in a modern au, in my opinion, would totally be a hospice worker. Ever since she was a child, she's had a knack for finding injured animals and would cradle them in her palms each and every time until they took their last breath. She's like an angel attracted to poor, suffering souls. Unfortunately, her young kid mind misinterprets the situation and believes she's cursed instead. It ultimately culminates into a full-blown phobia of touching people with both of her hands; it's just that ingrained in her that holding someone equals death.

Thankfully, as she gets older, she manages to cope with her fears a little better by putting her talent to good use. Whenever a patient in her care clearly expresses that they're ready to go, she's more than happy to help them pass on. But... it's still so achingly lonely. A real romantic relationship doesn't even process as an option to her, because, yknow. Physical intimacy.

That's why she grows so painfully attached to you, viewing you as her only real hope of having the lover she yearns for. Sure, she's not delusional. She knows you have a screen permanently forcing you two apart, but that's even better in her book. This way, her curse will never, ever harm you.

Castorice would absolutely be part of the hugging-a-pillow-and-imagining-it's-you club. Every single night, without fail, she wraps her arms and legs around her body pillow while imagining you. How warm you would actually be in her arms. She'd even go as far as to spray a scent on it—whatever reminds her the most of you while she's out shopping one day and picks it up.

As far as her online presence, she's definitely on the calmer side. Her account is filled to the brim with wholesome fanart of you, both reblogs and her own works. If anyone talks smack about you, she'll just block them and cleanse her soul with that adorable birthday art of you. Why waste precious energy on them when you're here to love and adore?

-Sparkle-

Sparkle is THE number one online troll, you can't convince me otherwise. Everyone else hates her so much, but somehow, they can never get rid of her presence. Aw, they blocked her newest account? Too bad, she's already got 3 other ones ready to go. But no matter how many times it changes, one thing remains consistent: that damn profile picture of you.

In a bizarre way, her determination to troll combined with your face being plastered next to her username kinda lets her... claim you? Nobody else would dare to use that photo of you as their profile pic, at least. It's not exactly the most orthodox way of showing her affection for you, but it gets similar results.

Now, everyone hates her and all, but most people have learned by now that she's best handled through methods like ignoring or blocking her. If they do that, typically Sparkle's attention wanes and she moves along to her next victim. But one person, one damn person, takes things too far. They start spamming insults towards you in her dms, tagging her in hate posts about you, everything to get under her skin. And it works like a charm. She's literally seething behind her dusty computer screen, losing her mind at every stupid notification sound.

Let's just say, that person won't be using social media again any time soon. Not once she's done with them.

-Ei-

It feels a bit strange, this version of Ei. Trust me when I say that every ounce of elegance and social skills her Genshin counterpart has flat-out doesn't exist in this world. I'm talking doesn't brush her hair most days, constant eyebags, won't even order at a drive-thru due to needing to talk to others, the works. It's not even necessarily that she's got social anxiety or anything like that. Ei plain old doesn't like people in this au, or at least, anyone other than you.

You're her rock that keeps her going every day. Why bother "making friends" when you're already here by her side every day? Why bother "taking care of her appearance" when you love her all the same? Her parents tried so hard to intervene and force her to act normal. They took away her devices and even forced her into therapy for as long as they legally could, but she just... wouldn't change. When they took her phone and computer, they'd expected her to switch hobbies. Maybe she'd pick up reading again. But every time they peek into her room, she's just sitting there with a vacant, empty expression. They can't hear it, but in her mind, you're still there right next to her keeping her company. It's honestly so heartbreaking to watch that they give up and let her have everything back again.

Truly, nothing else matters to her but you.

Unlike the others, she actually wouldn't have any social media presence whatsoever. Ei's stuck so far in her delusional attachment to you that she barely even can register the fact that she isn't your actual friend or partner. How could you not be, when you're together every moment of every day?

-Ganyu-

Ganyu's honestly probably the only one here with a genuinely healthy attachment level toward you, even if she admittedly uses you a lot to cope with her insecurities. You're just so, so sweet to her, having so many uplifting voice lines.

Her absolute favorite card of you is one where you're eating pastries with your game's mc. It comes with a corresponding unlockable event, where you encourage them to eat as much as they want. You even reassure them that no matter how they look or how much they weigh, you'll always love them. Essentially, you give Ganyu a free therapy session, and one that she greatly needs.

As much as she loves you, work forces her into being a filthy casual. Don't worry, though! She always makes time for limited content with you in it, like event stories and cards. Plus, she earns so much from her hard work. She can afford to spend an extra hundred... or five hundred... on duplicates of you. Even if your game's company is greedy as all hell, she still takes pride in funding them. If your game ever got the dreaded end-of-service announcement... she doesn't know what she'd do.

Her whale habits carry into social media, where she pays the bills of so many artists. They practically view her as a saint, both for how often she commissions them and for how willing she is to pay full price. Her? She's just happy to have all this extra content of you to admire. What a sweetheart ♡