#there is this One Fucking Thing about it that i am so fucking embarrassed about

[the-goo-goo-muck]

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CLUB: LEGAL ADVICE

Hiromi is just so overworked, & it's never as good when he's by himself, but you're so kind, of course you'll help him. . .

Starring: Hiromi Higuruma <3

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You’d thought long & hard, of course, about what on earth “massage therapy” might mean. It’s the only note Shiu had left under Hiromi’s name, like an asshole. You had the idea to ask him what he meant, but there was no way you were gonna come crawling to him for sex advice, especially considering he’d probably left that note there to purposely confuse you. No, you’d have to figure this one out solo. It could mean a couple of things, but you’d decided on a hand job. Keep things simple, right? You had been worried about the time limit; Choso had reserved you for an hour, which had made you anxious, but time had flown by. You could milk a hand job for an hour, literally. But maybe Hiromi would be different than your previous encounter; maybe he’d walk right in & tell you exactly what he wanted. You sure hoped so. You’d make sure to make him tell you, regardless of whether or not he wanted to. 

You repressed a scoff when passing Toji on your way past the bar as he gave you his signature shit-eating grin. “Where you headed in such a hurry, doll?” he smiles, letting the beauty of it paint his features. Fuck, you think, if only he wasn’t so goddamn hot. But that’s not just it; Toji knows you well, too well, knows things about you that nobody else does, things you wish he didn’t know, things that drive you crazy. “Oh that’s right, you’re off to fuck one of Shiu’s clients.” You could hardly call them that. “Fuckin’ sorcerers. You’re wastin’ your time with them, sweet thing.”

“As opposed to spending it with you? No thanks. Besides, you only fuck free whores. You want a night with me, you better be ready to cough it up, & last I checked, you’re broke.” You breezed past him, but he caught your arm & murmured in your ear with that gravelly voice that sent vibrations straight down to your cunt, “Not broke enough for you, doll. Don’t worry, I’m coughing it up, alright.”

Okay? What the fuck was that supposed to mean? But you scampered away before you could dwell on it. Getting into any kind of relationship with Toji, even some janky friends-with-benefits, work/fuck buddies situationship was a terrible idea. What was worse than that, though? You didn’t want those things with Toji. . .you wouldn’t dare admit it to yourself, but you wanted something real. 

You shook your head vehemently, though there was no one around to see you do it. You had a job to do, a job you were rather excited about, & you weren’t gonna let Toji distract you from that.

Shiu—or rather one of his assistants—prepared a similar room for tonight; small, secluded, mostly dark with music playing faintly in the background, & a chair reserved for the night’s activities. When you thought about it, it was almost a little awkward. However, you had had the same thoughts about Choso last night & it had been anything but awkward for you. 

So you kept your cool when you heard the soft click of the door a couple moments later. You were already facing him, & you could’ve sworn he had almost reached out to. . .shake your hand? But pulled himself back quickly. “Hello. My name is Hiromi. I assume you’re. . .Sugar?” The false name was purely sinful spilling out of his mouth, but his face betrayed nothing, the picture of sheer innocence.

You took a couple of calculated steps back & he followed, legs bumping against the chair. “Sure am. Now I’ve got a couple questions for you, Hiromi. There weren’t very clear notes left on my agenda; so what is it that I can do for you?” 

He clears his throat, obviously a little embarrassed by the question, but he gains a bit of confidence, meeting your eyes, saying, “Want you to jerk me off.” Okay, maybe he doesn’t gain that much confidence because he all but whispers his request, his plea. 

“What was that, Hiromi?” He shivers at the name, the way your tongue caresses it. “You want me to what?”

His face is all red, his tongue is all tied, his fingers are fidgeting with themselves, & he can’t meet your eyes when he says again, “Want you to r-rub my cock, jerk me off.” 

“Don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, sweetheart. Acting like I don’t want to.” You smile at him, saccharine & teasing, excited for the half-baked plan already forming in your head. Oh yeah, you’re gonna jerk him off alright, jerk him off ‘til he can’t take it anymore. The clock was ticking, & you were chomping at the bit to get a taste. “Can I kiss you?”

He nods, but makes no move to reciprocate, not until you’re pressing your lips against his, running your palms against the nape of his neck, down his chest, moving to loosen his tie, slide of his suit coat, unbutton his pants, palm his already stiffening cock, & he’s groaning into your mouth. 

“Can’t jerk off yourself, Hiromi? Gotta have some stranger do it?” you mock, sucking his bottom lip in between your teeth, biting. 

“N-never feels as good, can’t make myself cum as hard,” he babbles, fast, hoping his answer will please you enough to continue palming his cock through his underwear. You push him down into the chair, taking your sweet time to slip down onto your knees. If you were gonna be on your knees, night after night, you were gonna have to make Shiu put a bed in one of these rooms; a chair & the just wasn’t gonna cut it. But you'd make it work for tonight. You'd make Hiromi work tonight.

"Aww, s'so sad, don't you ever get yourself off?" You pause at the waistband of his underwear, a silent request, & he slides them down eagerly, helping you in any way he can.

"N-not like this," he pants, excited & worn already, though nothing's really happened quite yet. His pants & boxers came off quickly, & you're salivating by the time they do. He's all pretty & hard for you, & his dick is huge; not a surprise by how large he'd looked through his boxers, but a little shocking nonetheless. He all but yelps when you fist him at the base of his cock, hard, pushing all the precum from his weeping tip.

"Your tip is so sensitive, huh?" you coo, pressing your thumb hard into his slit until he’s attempting to run away from the pleasure. His eyes lock on yours, his mouth agape. 

“S-so sensitive, feels so good,” he whines, hips jerking to meet the lazy thrusts of your hand. 

How is he going to crawl back home to his fist, or even a pocket pussy, each night after this? After the tips of your nails scratch against his foreskin, after you trace each individual vein up & then down, after you squeeze the base of his cock, after your ghost your fingertips over his taint, after your grip your hand against his meaty thigh, holding him down so he can’t escape the pleasure you’re so intent on giving him? 

"Does that feel good, Hiromi? You're so wet down here,” you tease. He groans at your words, too focused on cumming to think of any sort of response, teasing & snarky or not. 

"Fuck, w-wait, please," he cries, the muscles in his thighs flexing & shaking as he tried not to get lost in his own sensitivity. You were just jerking him so fast; Hiromi was a methodical man in every way possible, including when he masturbated. He thought waiting for the high, edging himself for as long as possible, made the experience more enjoyable, but you weren’t taking it slow by any means. This might be the fastest he’s ever been able to finish. 

"God your hand feels so good, s’good,” he’s slurring his words, groaning as you keep your attention on his red, leaky tip, rubbing your thumb against the soft skin just under the head of his cock. “Gonna cum, gonna make me cum too fast.” 

“You can come, honey. Wanna make you cum, for me, please?”you encouraged,  & he’s shooting white, hot spurts of seed in your grasp before you even finish your sentence. 

Wow, he thinks to himself. I’ll definitely have to come back here again, see her again. The silly boy. . .he thinks you’re done. 

But you start stroking his softening cock again, bringing him back to attention disturbingly quickly. “H-hey wait, what’re you—what’re you doing? I just came, can’t—can’t come again!” But you ignore him because of course he can come again!

The sinful squelch echoes in his ears, his poor leaky cock is red & overstimulated & your hands aren’t helping;; if you didn’t stop, slow down soon, he was going to blow his load again, for the second time so quickly. helping echoing in his ears did very little to help him from blowing his load for the second time in five minutes. Your pretty, delicate, perfect hands were furiously stroking his cock, both of them wrapped around his length while you jerked him off using a screwing, twisting motion that made his legs shake & jerk. You made sure to pay extra special attention to his tip, rubbing your fingers down his frenulum each time you stroked him, making his body jolt & writhe in your soft grip. He’s truly putty in your hands. 

He moans helplessly, trying to process the unimaginable pleasure. He doesn’t usually mix his pleasure with this kind of pain, so maybe that’s why he’s cumming again, vulnerable & unable to stop himself. 

“it’s so much, oh my god it’s too much—hnggghhh—”

But you don’t stop, & why isn’t his cock getting soft, why does it feel so good, how are making him feel this way, why aren’t you stopping. . .

He can’t figure out what to do with his hands; maybe if he thought about it a little harder he could figure it out, but he can’t seem to focus on anything but the painfully sweet sensation of your hands, your lips on the tip of his cock, your fingers squeezing his balls, his cum coating everything, the twitching of his dick. He’s pulling his own hair with them, running them down his unbuttoned dress shirt, gripping the chair ‘til his knuckles turn white, holding on to your wrists for dear life, which does little to cease your ministrations with his pathetically weak grip on them. 

“Feels good, honey?” & you’re a real minx for that; of course it feels good, too good. Your voice is syrupy sweet, only adding to the deep ache in his balls. 

“N-no, no, s’too much, gotta stop it, can’t take anymore, gonna cum again, cummin’” he whines so pitifully, he’s shaking his head furiously, unable to form something coherent to say to you, anything to explain how fucking good your milking him. 

& at his complaints of “too much,” you’re squeezing him tighter in your hand, speeding up your stroking, he’s bucking up into your grip, lost in the feeling of it, unable to control the movements of his hips, trying to escape the pleasure, but he wants it so bad. 

“Ngh–no, m’gonna cum if you keep doin’ that, can’t cum again, c-can’t!”

“Can’t you? Don’t you want to? M’supposed to be makin’ you feel good, Hiromi. Don’t you wanna feel good?” If he had the ability to, he’d get you back for that, but there’s not a single thought running through his mind except for “feels good, feels good, feels good.” 

He can’t respond, only nods his head vigorously. He was leaking so much it’s difficult to say whether or not he’s cumming again, his body jolting around, face permanently twisted in sheer pleasure, sweet dripping down his temples, blushy red cheeks that match his angry tip. He’s just so pretty. He was previously trying to hold back in an attempt to. . .what? Impress you? Regardless, any ability to hold back is long gone

He was close, closer than you thought he was, & you really are impressed when he cums again for the third time, releasing a long whine of pain as his cum shoots into your hands again. 

When his cum finally slows down, you bring your finger up to his slit & start tracing it, coaxing more cum out of him, & he’s crying & whimpering, begging you stop, cock jumping into your hold begging you to continue; he grabs your wrists, hard this time, stopping you completely. 

“Aww, you’re all done? Can’t go another round for me?” Those eyes, he thinks, those eyes are going to be the death of him, if your hands don’t kill him first.

Night 2, complete.

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PART 3: BUSINESSMAN | coming soon to a theatre near you <3

[insolemi]

New Beginnings

cate dunlap (gen v) x (hopefully)gn!reader

summary: cate's life takes a series of turns when she gets to God U, and you're at the center of all of them

genre: fluff, potential angst

inclusions: language, awkward situations, touchstarved and socially awkward!cate, overly-excited and outgoing!reader, ooc cate fs, this is more a few different scattered scenes that it is a full, single plot fic so be aware, my first attempt at a fic so please lower expectations

wc: 4.4k

hiiii… y’all i am so sorry this took me seventy years to get posted, i had the strangest series of events happen, but here it is and i hope you enjoy it !!

Godolkin is an entirely new environment.

It's not like Cate hadn't known that going into it, hadn’t known that her life would be completely different from the moment Indira Shetty had shown up in her room and offered her a way out of her childhood bedroom turned prison. She doesn’t think she’d ever be able to repay her for that. For getting her out of that house, out from under the echoing emptiness of the four walls of her bedroom and the occasional sound of her online homework videos.

For being the reason she met you. Her pretty, sweet little roommate.

Move-in day hadn’t been particularly good or bad, the large crowds of people and their chattering were overwhelming but calming at the same time, knowing the voices weren’t in her head but out loud, around her this time.

She made her way down the hall, brushing through smaller crowds of students and their parents as she counted the different numbers above the doors. 415, 417, 419. She reads the number, coming to a slow stop outside of the dorm room with the number written on the piece of paper in her hand, her name labeled right next to your name. The thought alone of it makes her nauseous, having to share a bedroom with an entirely new person she’d never met before and hope that they get along. 

Whatever. It’s fine. She can do this. All she has to do is walk into the room, introduce herself to you, and try her best to not embarrass herself. That’s easy enough, no? It’s not like its rocket science or a hostage situation (although the way her heart is beating loudly in her ears might say differently), all she has to do is walk in and say ‘Hi, I’m Cate’. 

She stands in the doorway, just staring at your back for a moment, her eyes wide, the leather of her gloves creaking around the strap of the bag she’s holding in her hands (one of the only things she’d even brought with her) as she works up the courage to just open her mouth and talk as the only thing running through her mind is that everything is fine, she's got this, all she has to do is say–

Fuck.

The second her mouth opens, you turn to face her from the desk you’d been arranging things on and any words she’d been carefully planning in her head die on the tip of her tongue immediately at the sight of you. 

She hardly has any time to let the thought cross her mind and register it before you’re in her space, introducing yourself with an excited note to your sweet voice and wrapping your arms around her in a brief hug, your chin pressed against the side of her shoulder, the palm of your hands braced on the back of her shoulders, the other hand around her neck. You pull back from her and rest your hands above the back of her elbows, your face still in her direct orbit as you smile at her, your mouth opening to continue speaking. “You’re Cate, right? My roommate?” There’s a pretty little sparkle to your eye that she has to tear her own away from.

She can’t think about anything but the sound of your voice ringing in her ears and the feeling of the heat of your hands over her sleeves, but she somehow manages to get the words out of her mouth to finally introduce herself. “Uh, yeah, hi,” she forces out, her head spinning so fast that she can’t think properly and she stumbles back a step, pulling out of your grasp, unable to handle the warmth of your touch. She awkwardly tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I'm, um… Cate.” It’s been so long since anyone touched her so enthusiastically, without any ounce of hesitation, and now here you are, all smiles and casual touches, and she can barely keep it together.

But she does. She doesn’t want to come across as weird, a freak, so she smiles and nods along with your excited chattering, your energy far off the charts of anything near the realm of what she’s used to. “Thank god,” you laugh, clapping your hands together as you look her over for probably the first real time since she entered the room. “I was so worried I was gonna get a total bitch, but you seem sweet, so, again, thank god.” Another bell-ringing laugh.

“You have a nice laugh.” Fuck. Again. Her and her big mouth. “Sorry! I didn’t–”

“It's fine! Thank you," you keep the pretty smile on your face as you continue to look over Cate, a tint to your cheeks appearing briefly before you’re back to talking, something she’s starting to get the sense you do a lot (not that she minds, not if it means she gets to keep hearing your voice). "Oh, your hair is so gorgeous," you lift a hand from where it’s clasped in front of your chest to briefly lift a strand of Cate's blonde hair, admiring the clips she has in place.

Cate feels her pulse quicken. “Uh... thanks. It’s just, you know... hair,” she laughs nervously, unsure what else to say. Your touch, though brief, leaves behind a warmth that spreads through her chest, and it’s making her head spin

You smile brightly, seemingly unaware of how much you're affecting her. “Y’know, you and me? We’re going to be best friends. I can already tell.” 

Cate’s face flushes instantly. "Oh, um... yeah! That’d be cool." Her voice cracks slightly as she tries to match your enthusiasm, and she winces inwardly. You sound so sure of yourself, have so much conviction in your voice that Cate can hardly do anything other than believe your words. It’s overwhelming, in the best way, but she feels like she’s drowning in it. She’s not used to this kind of attention directed at her. You’re all smiles, your energy is infectious, and it’s making her feel out of place for not being able to respond how she wants to. She knows what she wants to say, but that’s almost never what leaves her mouth.

Still in the back of her head, there’s a wiggling part that kinda smarts at what you say. Best friends. That’s exactly what she needs, she thinks, a genuine best friend, though that thought directed at you makes her chest tighten in a way she doesn’t know how to handle, for reasons she doesn’t want to think about.

“You seem... really sweet, too,” Cate admits, biting her lip the moment the words leave her mouth. She hates how transparent she’s being but with you... it’s hard to hide how much she’s already attached.

Your smile grows even warmer. “Good! ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, Cate.”

Cate lets out a nervous laugh, trying to mask the overwhelming flood of emotions that sentence sparks. "Yeah... I’m okay with that." More than okay, she thinks, but she can’t say that out loud.

—

It’s late, and the two of you are sitting on the loveseat couch in your dorm room that you’d somehow managed to acquire (somehow being you sweet-talking a frat boy out of one, not that anyone else needed to know that), mid-way through watching some animated movie Cate can’t remember the name of but you’d forced her to watch (‘forced’ meaning you asked her once to watch it and she caved) once you realized she’d never seen it. You’ve been leaning against Cate’s side for most of it, your head resting on her shoulder, legs thrown over the arm of the couch, and she’s been tense the whole time, back ramrod straight, trying her best not to move too much, not to let her nerves show. She’s terrified that if she moves, you’ll realize how fast her heart is racing.

It’s silent in the room until you let out a soft sigh, shifting slightly where you’re laying basically your entire body against her side. Cate can’t help but somehow stiffen up more. This doesn’t escape your notice, just like anything else that has to do with her, and you lift your head, turning it to look at her.

“You okay?” The concern in your voice makes her heart squeeze and she makes a conscious effort to relax a little. 

“Yeah,” she slips you a tight smile, her eyes darting back and forth between the screen and your face. More than okay if she’s being honest.

You nod, a soft hum of contentment leaving your lips as you lay your head back down on her shoulder, pulling your legs closer to you on the couch and loosely wrapping an arm around hers. Cate’s breath hitches despite her best efforts to focus on anything other than your bare palm on her arm. “Yeah,” you echo, the sound full of a kind of relaxation Cate desperately wishes she could hit.

It falls silent in the room again, the neon colors on the screen glowing brightly around the room, casting long shadows where the light can’t quite reach. There’s almost something either poetic or ironic in that, Cate thinks. Maybe she could figure it out if she could think about something other than the heat of your skin or your breath fanning out over her arm, your eyes still focused solely on the screen.

She feels like she should say something more, but the words get stuck in her throat, but all she can think about is how warm you feel against her, how much she wants this moment to last forever.

You glance up at her again, noticing the distant look on her face, and nudge her with a playful grin. "You’re still watching, right?" you tease, your voice light but laced with affection. “This is my favorite part.”

Cate blinks, momentarily startled, then forces a sheepish smile. “Uh, yeah. Totally.” But in reality, she hasn’t processed a single frame of the movie. How could she, when you’re so close? When your every movement sends ripples of warmth through her?

The movie continues to play, but all Cate can focus on is how natural it feels, how right it feels, sitting next to you like this.

—

It’s been a few weeks since you two moved in together, and Cate is slowly starting to feel more comfortable around you. She’s still a little awkward, old habits die hard (especially ones like hers), but she’s not as jumpy as she used to be. Especially not now when, where there used to be hard spots of tension in every silence between you two, are now small, quiet moments that are more comforting than they are terrifying.

So today, when you suggested grabbing coffee at the campus café, Cate agreed. Even if the thought of spending time alone with you, even if it is in a public space, still makes her heart race, she just couldn’t find it in herself to say no this time. She’s sitting across from you, absently stirring her drink as you talk about anything and everything, your hands doing most of the speaking for you when you bring it up. 

“So…” She can already tell you think you’re taking a risk bringing it up, which makes her stomach twist a little. “There’s this little hangout thing – not a party!” You reassure immediately, hand coming up to stop any protests she might have, already well aware that parties aren’t her thing; too many people, too much noise, too much of a risk of something bad happening. “It’s not a party, it’s just, like, five or six people, I swear.”

“You should come with me!” you say, your eyes lighting up. “It’ll be fun, I promise.” It’s a long shot, asking her to go to a party (or anything, really), and you both know it, but you never skip asking her anyway, despite her numerous rejections. It makes her feel… warm? That you never give up on her. That alone makes her reconsider her usual knee-jerk reaction of saying ‘no’.

Her fingers toy with the rim of her cup, buying her a moment to think. “I don’t know...” she begins, her voice hesitant. “Parties aren’t really my thing.” She glances up at you, biting her lip. “But... maybe.”

You nearly spill your coffee as you sit up straighter, eyes wide and a hopeful smile on your face. “Wait—really? You’d come?”

Cate feels her heart skip a beat at your genuine surprise and excitement. A small, tentative smile pulls at her lips, and for once, she lets herself enjoy the idea. “Yeah,” she shrugs, trying to sound casual even though her heart is racing. “Why not, right?”

You grin from ear to ear, letting out a little squeal of excitement, making her feel a little braver for saying yes. “This is awesome, Cate! You won’t regret it, I swear.”

She hopes you’re right.

—

Later that night, Cate stands in front of the mirror, adjusting her shirt nervously for what feels like the hundredth time. She’s never been comfortable with events like this, even if it is nothing big, just a small gathering with some people from your class like you’d said. Despite the anxiety gnawing at her, she’s determined to at least try, especially since it means spending more time with you outside of classes. She tugs at the sleeves of her shirt, her eyes lingering on her gloves.

Your soft knock on the open closet door pulls her from her thoughts. You poke your head around it, a playful grin on your face. “You ready?”

Nope. She is absolutely in no way prepared for this. At all. Cate takes a deep breath, her lips quirking into a small, hesitant smile. “Yup,” she chirps, though there’s still audible uncertainty in her voice.

You walk over to her, gently reaching out to fix a stray strand of hair that’s fallen out of place. Your fingers barely graze her skin, but it’s enough to send her pulse racing. “You look great, Cate.”

Cate’s breath catches at the compliment, and she gives a soft, nervous laugh. “Thanks,” she murmurs, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. “You too. I mean, you also look great.” She's not entirely sure that covers it.

You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say reassuringly, “I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

For some reason, that promise makes all the difference. Cate takes another steadying breath and follows you to the door, feeling just a little braver with you by her side.

Maybe tonight, she’ll finally stop holding herself back.

—

A few weeks later and the two of you are lying on your beds, the lights dimmed, just talking about anything and everything. These late-night conversations have become a nightly routine since moving in together, and Cate is starting to feel like she can really open up to you in ways she hasn’t with anyone else. There's something about the quiet of the room, the gentle rhythm of your voice, and the way you listen without judgment that makes her feel... safe, she thinks. 

You stretch out, letting your arm dangle off the edge of the bed, glancing over at her. “Hey, Cate,” you ask softly, “what’s your family like?”

Cate hesitates, staring up at the ceiling. She’s never been good at talking about them—the weight of her past always feels too heavy, too personal. But with you, it doesn’t feel quite as suffocating. There's something about the way you ask, like you’re genuinely interested, but not pushing her to share more than she’s comfortable with. She still isn’t sure how much she wants to reveal, but the silence that follows your question is patient, giving her room to breathe.

She finally speaks, her voice low. “My family’s... complicated.” She shifts slightly on her bed, pulling at the sleeve of her shirt. “I don’t really talk to them much anymore.”

You turn your head to look at her, your voice soft and full of understanding. “I’m sorry, Cate.”

Cate swallows, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest. She doesn’t want to go too deep, doesn’t want to drag the mood down, so she shrugs, trying to make it seem like it’s not that big of a deal. “It’s okay. I’m... kinda used to it by now.” Her voice wavers slightly, betraying her attempt at nonchalance.

The room falls into a thoughtful silence. It’s not uncomfortable, just heavy with the unspoken weight of everything Cate has never said aloud. You don’t push for more, just let her words hang in the air, like you’re giving her the space to share if she wants to. After a long pause, you break the silence with a soft chuckle.

“You know, I think we’re kind of like family now,” you say, the warmth in your tone unmistakable. You roll over on your side, facing her, your face half-lit by the soft glow from the window. “I mean, we live together, we spend a lot of time together, grocery shopping... pretty much checks all the boxes, right?”

Cate turns her head slightly, surprised by your words. The idea catches her off-guard, but not in a bad way. It’s just... new. “Yeah?” she murmurs, her voice uncertain. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” you say with a grin. “And you don’t have to think about any of that shit with your family right now. You've got me.” You scoot a little closer on your bed, giving her an earnest look. “So... if you ever wanna, like, talk about it, I’m here. But if not, that’s cool too. It won’t hurt my feelings or anything.”

Cate’s heart skips a beat. It’s not the words themselves that get to her—it’s the sincerity behind them. The way you say it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, makes her feel like maybe she’s not as alone as she thought.

A small, genuine smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah,” she murmurs, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I guess.”

You flash her another warm smile, your voice light. “See? I’m not so bad to have around, right?”

Cate chuckles softly, the sound easing some of the tension in her shoulders. “Eh, you’re alright,” she teases gently, heaving an exasperated sounding sigh. “Guess I could do worse.”

You laugh, a playful glint in your eye. “Wow, thanks, I think? High praise coming from you.”

Cate rolls her eyes, but there’s no denying the smile that’s still on her face. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” you reply, your grin widening as you settle back into your pillow. The easy banter between you both feels like a balm, soothing the heaviness of the earlier conversation.

—

You and Cate are sitting on the bed, talking like usual, but there’s something different about today—something a little heavier in the air. Cate’s been quieter than normal, her gloved hands resting tensely in her lap, fingers curling and uncurling against the fabric. You can tell something’s bothering her, the way her gaze keeps flicking down to her hands, then back up at you, as if she’s debating something in her head.

You wait for her to speak, sensing that there’s something she wants to say but is struggling to get out. Finally, you reach over and place your hand on top of hers, your thumb tracing gentle circles over the soft leather. “Cate... what’s going on?” Your voice is full of care, inviting her to share what’s going through her head, even when you both know you already know.

It’s silent in the room for a moment before you speak again. “It’s about your gloves, right?” A gross underestimation and you both know it. “You don’t have to wear those if you don’t want to. Not around me.”

Cate’s breath hitches, her eyes widening as she pulls her hands away instinctively. “I– I do,” she whispers, almost like she’s trying to convince herself as much as you. “You don’t understand. If I touch someone, tell them to do something... they have to. I can’t just take it back. What if I say something I don’t mean? What if I hurt you without even realizing it?”

Your expression softens as you scoot closer, your knees brushing against hers. “I trust you, Cate,” you say firmly, but with a gentleness that makes her heart ache. “C’mon, I know you’d never hurt me. Not like that.”

Cate bites her lip, her gaze dropping again to the gloves. She’s heard those words from you before, but it’s hard to believe them, especially when the memories of what happened to her brother still haunt her. “It’s not that simple,” she mutters, her voice tight. “I could slip up. All it takes is– is a touch and a word, and I could—” She stutters through her words before they break off, biting her lip. The thought of losing control terrifies her.

You lean forward, holding her hands tighter, not letting go this time. “I do know,” you say softly, your eyes searching hers. “I know, Cate, what you can do, what happened to your brother, but I also know you. And I’m not scared of you because I know it wasn’t your fault. Not even a little.”

Cate’s breath catches, her heart pounding as she stares at you with wide, searching eyes. No one’s ever said that to her—not like this. Not with so much confidence in her. She wants to believe you, wants to trust that she won’t make a mistake... but the fear of losing control, of saying something she can’t take back, always lingers at the edge of her thoughts.

She looks away, her voice trembling. “But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Cate,” you interrupt gently, moving her hand up to your cheek, even with the glove still on. “You can take them off. I want you to. Please?”

Cate’s heart pounds, her fingers trembling beneath the leather. She hesitates for a long moment, her mind racing with a hundred different reasons why she shouldn’t. But something about the way you’re holding her hand—like it’s nothing, like you don’t see the danger—makes her want to try.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, she reaches for the edge of one glove, pulling it off with trembling fingers. Her hand feels exposed, vulnerable, but you don’t flinch. You just hold her gaze, calm and patient, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

She pulls off the second glove, her bare hands now resting in yours. She waits—waits for something to go wrong, for the fear to take over. But nothing happens. You don’t pull away. You don’t flinch. Instead, you gently lift her hand back to your cheek, letting her feel the warmth of your skin.

“See?” you whisper, your voice gentle. “You’re in control, Cate. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Cate’s breath hitches, her chest tight with emotion. She can hardly believe what’s happening—she’s touching you, skin to skin, and it’s okay. It’s more than okay. It feels... right.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I was so scared I’d mess up... that I’d say something and lose you.”

You smile softly, still holding her hand against your cheek. “You don’t have to be afraid, not with me. I trust you, Cate. I always have.”

Cate’s heart swells, the weight of her fear slowly lifting. For the first time in what feels like forever, she feels safe. Not just because of your touch, but because of the way you believe in her—like she’s more than just her power, more than her fear.

“I... I trust you too,” she finally whispers, a small smile tugging at her lips. She holds onto your touch, the warmth of your hand grounding her in a way she’s never felt before. “Thank you. For believing in me.”

And in that moment, with your hand in hers, the fear that’s haunted her for so long feels just a little bit lighter. Light enough to get everything else off of her chest.

Cate swallows hard, feeling like her heart’s going to burst right out of her chest. She tries to steady herself, but the weight of everything she’s been bottling up is too much. She glances down at her hands, then back at you, and before she can stop herself, the words start to spill out—awkward, messy, but real. “I... I’m scared because... because I care about you. Like, a lot. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone, and... and the thought of hurting you... it just—it freaks me out.”

She looks away as soon as she says it, like she’s half-expecting you to laugh or push her away. But you don’t. Her heart skips a beat when she hears your voice, soft and closer than she expected.

Your heart skips a beat at her confession, but you don’t pull away. “Cate, you’re not gonna hurt me.” You lean in, your voice a little quieter, a little more vulnerable. “I care about you too... more than you know.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide as she stares at you like she can’t believe what she just heard. “Wait... you—you do?”

“Yeah.” You nod, looking just as nervous but still smiling a little. “I’ve felt like this for a while. I just... didn’t know how to say it.”

Cate opens her mouth, but all that comes out is this weird little half-laugh, half-gasp sound, like she’s trying to process it all. “You’re serious? You like... you’ve liked me?”

“Yeah. For a while now.”

There’s this awkward pause where you’re both kind of just staring at each other, unsure of what to say next. Cate lets out a shaky breath, her fingers twitching in your grasp, and she looks down again, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

Your smile softens, and you reach out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to think about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

Cate’s throat tightens, and she feels her eyes starting to sting. She blinks quickly, trying to hold back the tears, but it’s no use. They’re not just tears of fear anymore. It’s everything—relief, hope, something she hasn’t let herself feel in a long time. She leans in without really thinking, her forehead resting against yours, her voice barely audible, trembling just a little.

“Promise?” she whispers, her breath warm against your skin.

You nod, your eyes closing as you hold her just a little tighter. “Promise.”

In that moment, Cate finally lets herself believe it might be okay.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (yes I did twice)

YEAH! More BuddieShannon! 129 sentences:

---

“Eddie, come on. I thought we were trying to be better about talking through our crap.”

“This isn’t our crap, though, Shannon!” He protests. “My stupid sexuality crisis is my crap!”

Shannon’s eyes widen. It takes his brain a moment to realize what his traitorous mouth has said. Fuck. 

“Oh,” Shannon replies. “So it’s not, like… A kink thing?”

Somehow, that question serves to make this even more embarrassing. 

“What? God! No!”

“O-okay,” Shannon stammers. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know this about you.”

Eddie sighs, deflating. 

“Yeah… Neither did I.”

Shannon scooches a little closer to him. She moves her hand from his wrist to his shoulder. 

“Eddie, there’s nothing wrong with it,” she says. “You know that, right? It’s okay to be attracted to him.”

Something stirs in Eddie at this. Like a wilting plant dragging itself towards a light source. But he shakes that away. 

“That’s not true,” he replies. 

“Why isn’t it true?” Shannon asks. “You’ve never cared about that kind of thing before.”

“For other people,” Eddie agrees. “But I’m not… That’s not how it’s supposed to be for me. I’ve never loved anyone but you. I’ve never wanted anyone but you.”

Her lips part a little. 

“You love him?” She asks. 

He freezes again. Fuck. He needs to stop talking. 

“Of course you do,” she says. “I mean, how could you not?” 

Right. Because she’s into him, too. Jesus Christ. What a pair they make. 

“I love you, Shannon,” Eddie replies. Firm. Unflinching. Because no matter what else is going on in his brain, and in his horrible heart, that is still true. 

“I don’t…” She frowns, struggling to choose her next words. “Eddie, one doesn’t make the other not true.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “But isn’t that fucked up? That’s wrong. That’s… It’s like emotional infidelity.” 

“It’s not,” Shannon replies. “We’re separated.”

“Well, that wasn’t my choice.”

She sighs. 

Right. Probably not a great point to focus on right now. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Even if we weren’t, Eddie… It’s not bad,” Shannon says. “I mean, there would still be nothing wrong with you.”

“How can you possibly say that?” Eddie asks. 

Shannon bites her lip for a moment. 

“Eddie, are you upset that you’re attracted to a man or in love with two people at the same time?” 

“Both!” He bursts. “Those are both things I am not supposed to be.”

She sighs again. He wishes she’d stop sighing.

 “According to who?”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut. He doesn’t know how to answer that question. According to who indeed? 

“Your parents,” Shannon says. “The church they made you go to?”

The one they had to get married in.

Eddie nods sheepishly. “Yeah. I guess that’s it.”

“And if Chris has this same question about himself in fifteen years? What will you say?” 

“Don’t go there, Shannon.” Eddie feels a rise of frustration in his chest. “You know what I’d say.”

“Yeah, I do,” she agrees. “Say it for me anyway, Eddie.”

Eddie groans. “I obviously don’t care who, if anyone, our children fall in love with one day, Shannon. As long as they’re happy and safe, I don’t care.”

“But that doesn’t apply to you?” Shannon asks. 

“Shannon…” Eddie complains.

“No, Eddie, come on,” she presses. “Why do Chris and-and this baby get the freedom of your values, but you get the restriction of your father’s? That’s ridiculous. You know it’s not bad or wrong. You know that.”

He knows. He does know. He… He just can’t.

“They get to be whoever they want, Shannon.” Eddie tells her.

“And you don’t?” 

No! No. Doesn’t she see that? He has never got to be anyone at all. What he wants doesn’t even exist. He’s never been able to explore that. He is no more than this. This automaton on a set path. He doesn’t know how to be anyone else. 

“No,” he replies. “I don’t.”

[doctorwhoisadhd]

please understand tha ti am trying. so. god damned hard. to be normal. about this right now

[memento-morri-writes]

More dnd writing because it's all I have but I here's a snippet from a vignette I did of Rook's past (from Zara's POV), because Rook and his mentors never fails to make me sick (/pos).

[transcript under the cut]

Taking a coin out of her pocket, she rolled it across her knuckles, back and forth. It gave her hands something to do, and prevented the urge to bite her nails, something she hadn’t done in years. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Zara began to pace as Rook’s breathing grew shakier and the color drained from his skin. Where the hells is Jay? she wondered. The room was so quiet that she could hear every tick of the small clock on her bedside table, and each one echoed in her head. How many ticks does he have left? She didn’t want to think about it.  She’d had crew members die before, of course. You don’t go as many years as a captain as she had and never lose a soul. But all the others who had died had died quickly, in combat. She’d mourned for all of them, even shed tears in private, but there was something different about watching the life drain out of a person right in front of your eyes.

[purpurussy]

.

[termagax]

re: "good girl" i think they say it once randomly as a joke and its just one of those things that gets him wayyy more than they expected it would. so now its their secret weapon and they use it very sparingly and every single time he gets super embarrassed about it but it works ill tell you what.

[perilegs]

i miss my husband <- guy who has to go to the store before he can sit on the computer and kiss elliott sdv

[weareuniqueandimportant]

YOU SHOULD JUST COMMIT SSSSCIDE... YOU'RE WORTHLESS... YOU VIEW US THIS WAY YOU'RE AN ABUSER A KILLER A MURDERER... TRULY... YOU WOULDN'T EVEN LISTEN TO US YOUR HANDS THEY'RE ON OUR THROAT... YOU'RE WORTHLESS AS RESULT... GO AHEAD... YOUR VALUE IS COMPLETE 0...

THIS POST IS ABOUT LESBIAN FOOD... NOTHING MATURE ABOUT THAT... I LOVE EATING SSSSIDE... THAT IS A TYPE OF FISH WE WOMAN TEND TO EAT TOGETHER... WHY DO THIS TO US 😢...

DAMN... I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS COMPLETELY SHADOWBANNED POST WAS CHECKED BY THE SITE... THAT'S CRAZY... WHO EVEN FOUND THIS...? OH WHATEVER... HA.

[304wv66]

HELLO EVERYONE I HAVE NOT DRAWN AT THIS BARE MINIMUM CALIBER SINCE LAST YEAR BUT WE'RE SO FUCKING BACK BABY

anyway here are some of my ocs in their first iterations with the original drawings and their current iterations

[grmpgm]

ok executive dysfunction is kind of ruining my life actually

[tony-andonuts]

God I wish I didnt get ostrasised by all but like 4 of my peers because holyfucking shit am I overworked and need a hug

[incesthemes]

hey girlie it’s me, sam winchesters gay lover, your mootie 🥰🥰🥰 i just wanted to let you know, that your tags on the post about that wincest video are based and i agree with every word, hashtag slay couldn’t agree more i loved reading your essay in those tags heart ❤️

omg thank you!!! i'm basically only capable of talking in essays whether people want me to or not, unfortunately

i just have a lot of feelings on this topic and the whole "canon or not canon" argument is weird to me; the themes are pretty darn clear in supernatural (it is NOT known for its subtlety) so idk man. they don't have to kiss to be canon. and they don't have to have a romantic relationship to be canon either. how many times do they get into relationships with other people only for it to be treated as cheating/betrayal/abandonment, only for them have to give up that relationship in order to reaffirm their devotion to their brother

that's just what the text says. i'm not under any kind of delusion that they have some secret sexual or romantic relationship, but that doesn't change that sam and dean are each other's most important person regardless of that. which is really awesome imo, that romance isn't treated as more important than whatever horrible thing they have with each other, and that they don't have to consummate their relationship with romance/sex in order for it to be the most important one they have

(and of course there's romantic/sexual subtext, like parallels and metaphors and misunderstandings and jokes, but to me that just provides a solid foundation for presenting this relationship between them as the most important even though it's not romantic or sexual—because this language of romance is the only one we know, really, when it comes to writing important relationships between characters. it's the only one we know in our own personal lives, to a large extent. so you use the romance/sexuality to symbolize the actual bond they have. which is so much worse lmao)

anyway i think spn is fairly unique in this way because of how no other relationships can really ever stand parallel to the one they share; even in other shows that center male friendship, romance is allowed to coexist with brotherhood. for sam and dean, it's not, and that becomes a point of tension and conflict and resolution many, many times over the course of the show. so like yeah!!! just because it's not romantic or sexual doesn't mean it's not canon, in the sense that their relationship is the point of the show, and it is the most important relationship they have. they chose each other above all else, every single time. yknow, it's "the epic love story of sam and dean" and all that

[too-late-chomp]

Oh FUCK dude.p

[commandermahariel]

siiiiiiigh

[reflectionsofgalaxies]

open communication? solving MY problems?? who would’ve thought!