#this could have flowed WAY better but it is what it is

[elliesgaymachete]

Idk if this will help anyone but a few tips from someone who used to get super anxious every time she drove and now is better at it mostly out of necessity

you will NOT get in trouble for going the speed limit or under. If you are anxious and unsure what to do, go the speed limit or 5mph under. Yes, people may get mad but that’s on them. They WILL try to pass you. They may honk and give you an angry look or even flip you off, but you are doing NOTHING wrong and you will likely NEVER see this person again. Feel free to drive safely

the only time you might get pulled over for going under the speed limit is if you are going SIGNIFICANTLY slower than the speed limit and could cause a hindrance to the flow of traffic. We’re talkin 30+ miles below the speed limit while everyone else is at or above it. If something has happened to you or your car and you NEED to slow down or pull over, turn your hazards on and drive slow. Get over to the right lane and pull over as soon as you can. Yes, you can do this if a light comes on on your dash OR if you are having a panic attack and cannot drive safely.

Turning at green lights. If you’re turning right, you have to yield to pedestrians crossing the street but otherwise you always have the right of way. Left turns are trickier. If you have a green arrow, you have the right of way. If it’s not an arrow, you have to yield to both pedestrians crossing and oncoming cars. If you’re not sure you’ll have the space, don’t turn! Any accident caused by a left turn into oncoming traffic is the turning car’s fault. If you’re not sure when to turn, you can inch into the intersection a little bit and wait for the light to turn yellow. When the oncoming cars stop, you are able to turn. At least one car is allowed to turn in this manner and the cross traffic will typically yield until turns are complete (in some big cities like LA, people will even push this limit and have 2-4 cars turn at a yellow). People might get mad at you for not turning, but don’t let them bother you. You will never see them again. Turn when you feel safe to do so.

as for getting cars fixed, never take it to the dealer unless it’s something very specific to the car that only they can fix. They will overcharge up the ass. If it’s not something major, you can take your car to multiple shops to find the best deal. Or if you know what the issue is, like for example getting a tire replaced, you can call around and ask how much getting that specific tire replaced would be.

You can also look up some of your local traffic laws because those vary by state, but the skills are transferrable and you can still drive in other states even if you don’t know the exact rules

Driving is hard and scary and expensive. I wish public transit were more accessible everywhere, but that’s just not the case; driving is a necessity in most of the US. But the more people who know how to drive safely, the safer our roads will be.

i hate driving. here are the laws! if you break them there will be consequences! except youre also expected to break the law just a little bit. people will get mad at you if you dont. you dont have right of way but the person who does is waving you forward for some reason. here's the speed limit! it's not the speed limit, the actual speed limit is that plus ~5-10. the light is green but you're in the turning lane. can you go? should you have gone just then? the person behind you is honking at you. there's a weird noise coming from your engine; if you try to do the right thing and get it checked out, will you get scammed? you are driving a 1-2 ton metal machine rocketing at speeds unknown to humankind for most of history. around a million people die in car accidents every year; that's about one person every thirty seconds. if you take that seriously and try to drive safely then people get mad at you.

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you see your mother face to face for the first time in years, and it starts with a rocky conversation.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23), unplanned pregnancy, this is very much centered around reader and her mom (jack is only mentioned in this part), mentions of a difficult mother/daughter relationship, and angst due to that, i think that’s it?? minors DNI.

notes: i have still been struggling with a bit of writies block for this series :( so i am sorry if this is not the best. i also couldn’t quite get the flow right for this part. initially, jack and reader met with her mom, and then met with jacks mom (and his sister showed up) but as i was rereading it and trying to wrap it up today, i felt like it didn’t make a lot of sense, so decided to split part 7 up where it’s reader and her mom, jack and his mom, then them both with readers mom, and then with jacks mom. also, i really projected my own issues with my mom here, so if it feels like the relationship makes no sense that may be why💀 i hope you guys aren’t too disappointed with this! unedited. and as always, any feedback is extremely appreciated, it helps keep me motivated. especially reblogs/comments/asks!

wc: 1.3k (ish)

prev next

You and Jack both decided it would probably be best for you to speak with your mother on your own for the initial conversation. You, knowing your mother and all the snide remarks she’ll be giving, and him, taking your word for it that this is the best way to go about it.

So, after taking an entire day off of work to prepare for her coming, your apartment was spotless and a nice lunch had been made.

Every so often, you feel your girl kick at you from the confines of your womb.

You feel your heart rate pick up at the knock that sounds throughout the apartment.

“Okay, bug, let’s get this over with.” You mumble as you rub a hand over your stomach.

When you open the door, you force your eyes not to roll back into your head when she immediately pulls you into her embrace.

“Oh, baby,” She mumbles as she kisses the side of your head repeatedly.

“Hi mom,” You awkwardly rub her back.

When she finally pulls away, she keeps her hands on your shoulders as she looks you over.

She glances between you and your stomach twice, “Oh, wow.”

There it is. You scoff lightly before opening the door a little more to let her in.

Once the two of you are sitting at your dining table, you check your phone for any updates from Jack on how his conversation with his own mother is going.

Your mom huffs in annoyance, “You haven’t seen your mother in almost three years, and the first thing you do is get on your phone?”

You nearly laugh, but hold it back, “And whose fault is that? You came up with nearly any excuse you could to not come here for graduation last year.”

She narrows her eyes at you, and for a moment you feel sixteen again, but you hold her eyes.

“Well, then I’ll just say what I feel should be said then,”

“Oh, let’s hear it then,” You mumble out sarcastically.

“I think you should move home to raise the baby, with my help.”

Now you do laugh, “I’m sorry, what?”

She raises an eyebrow at you, “Baby, what exactly do you think is going to happen here?”

You open your mouth to speak, but she continues, “A man old enough to be your father got you pregnant. And sure, he’s here now. But what happens when she’s born, huh? And he decides he doesn’t want to be a father? Or worse, tries to take her from you?”

Tears well up in your eyes before you can even stop them, “This is why you came? To lecture me about my life and then force me to come home with you?”

To her credit, her eye’s soften slightly, “No, baby, I’m just worried. This is a big deal.”

“You don’t even know him! All you do when I see you is try to dictate my life.”

She looks taken aback, “Now-“

“No, it’s true. You resent me for one reason or another for not turning out exactly like you wanted me too,”

“I wanted a better life for you then the one I had! Is that a crime?”

You scoff, “You hated me!”

Her mouth drops slightly, “I could never hate you. You are my child,”

She lets out a shaky breath, “Life was hard for us sometimes, and you didn’t make it any easier on me. I never hated you. I wanted the absolute best for you, that is still all I want for you.”

“Then don’t come here trying to sweep me away or convince me that the father of my baby is going to try to take her from me!” You grit the last part out, because no matter how hard you try to deny it, it’s still a very real fear for you.

She looks at you, frown ever present, “I am sorry if it seems like that’s all I came here to do. It wasn’t my intention, even if that’s what I think is for the best.”

You just shrug, not having anything else to say to her.

The two of you sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes before you get up and plate the salads you made for lunch.

You eat in silence before she finally speaks up again, “Well, tell me all about it.”

You glance up, brow furrowed, “About what?”

“The baby. Her dad. Your life. Everything.” She has a smile on her face that transports you back to being ten years old, when she was your best friend and made you feel so loved and so invincible.

She must sense your distrust, because her face falls slightly.

“It’s a girl, I think I mentioned it, but if I didn’t. She’s a girl,” You smile when you talk about her.

You tell your mom names you’ve picked out, the types of food you're craving, which she tells you when you mention cravings similar to the ones that she had.

You tell her about work and your friends. She smiles, and though you know her, know that she doesn’t love you living in Pittsburgh and the path you’ve chosen, you can tell she is happy for you.

“And how did you meet Jack?” Your mom asks casually as she takes a sip of water.

You wince, “Um, a bar?”

She coughs, face turning red, “Was this a one night stand?”

You wince again. You’d kept the details out initially. Just telling her that you’d met a guy and gotten pregnant but you were trying to still get to know each other. Which wasn’t a lie.

“I mean, I guess you could call it that?”

Your face heats up under the judgemental look in her eyes, and it causes you to shrink in on yourself.

She stares at you a moment longer, eyes glancing down at your stomach and lingering, “Is he good to you?”

You look at her, a soft smile taking over your face as you talk about him, “Yeah. I mean he’s busy a lot, but he’s always here when I need him. Goes to the store to get snacks in the middle of the night and wakes up with me if I get sick.”

Your eyes get distant as your hand rubs your stomach, “He’s changed his whole life for her, for me, and I know it isn’t conventional or anything. And he and I are doing this all backwards but,”

You trail off, eyes focusing back on her, “I think this is a really good thing. Scary, like really scary, but I think it will turn out really good.”

She reaches across the table to grab one of your hands, “I know you’re an adult who can make her own decisions, and I know there is no one harder on you than me. Trust me when I say I know that,”

To your surprise, she lets out a shaky breath and tears start to fill her eyes, “I know this is the time in your life for me to let you do what you think is best but I just can’t help but still want to keep you safe, safe with me.”

You haven’t felt the way you feel right now in almost a decade. Your relationship turned sour and complicated around the time you started high school. She was tough, and though you don’t have any ill feelings in your heart over it, she was jealous of the life you had when hers was so hard.

Moving for college mended some of that, but not all of it, and the resentment still lingered, however small, even some today.

But hearing that? It’s either your inner child begging for her mom again, or the hormones from growing your own, but it makes your chest feel heavy.

You squeeze her hand twice, against your better judgement.

[loveemagicpeace]

🍓Jupiter In Cancer🌙🦋✨

⚡️Aries Rising- During this time, you may travel more, or find out where your home is and where you feel more at home. You may find your home outside of the area you have been in so far. It may mean a longer trip with your family or being a little estranged from them during this time. During this time, family traditions may be different or you may spend major holidays in a foreign country. You can break free from comfort or familiar things and go outside your comfort zone. During this time, you can also decorate your house, the space you live in, more.

✨Taurus Rising- During this time, you can travel more and your travels can include more short spontaneous trips. You can be more considerate of other people's mindsets and you can also express yourself more optimistically and you can learn a lot during this time. You can meet people who are wiser and give you advice. You can express your opinions much more and stand by what you say. You can also meet your relatives more. You can buy a new car or drive longer distances than usual. You may meet people during errands, short travels, online interactions, or even in your neighborhood. You can also hear more clearly what people really mean, especially when it comes to tone, hidden meaning, or intention.

🍋‍🟩Gemini Rising-You can expect more luck with money and financial matters. If things have been more reserved until now, new options and new possibilities will now open up. You can gain money from traveling. You can improve your memory. You can have a better relationship with food and you can prepare different meals than before - it can also mean changing the way you eat or what food you eat - you can try a lot of foreign foods. Your inner feelings and the feelings of those around you may become more optimistic and lighthearted. You may gain greater belief in yourself and your worth. Maybe you can get back the things you thought were lost. You can experience greater comfort and get more gifts.If you have children, their success or recognition may bring you pride during this time. If you don't have children, this could also symbolize the "creative offspring" of your efforts-such as projects, investments, or business ideas-that now start to gain respect or value.

🍊Cancer Rising- During this time, you can express yourself more, your desires, your opinions, and you can find happiness on your own. Jupiter can give you a sense of being able to do things on your own and confidence in how you present yourself. Especially if you don't like being alone or doing things alone, Jupiter can bring you a sense of losing that fear. You may experience many happy coincidences during this time. You can start doing some sport or something related to your body. You may become more aware of inflammation, weight, or digestive issues (upiter rules the liver and metabolism). There's a greater need to balance expansion with discipline-watch for overindulgence in food, drink, or overexertion. Healing childhood impressions by rewriting your personal narrative with greater faith and optimism. If you're a parent, your child may become more curious about philosophy, religion, or foreign cultures.

🐯Leo Rising-During this time, you will be more intuitive and will be able to perceive things differently than usual. You can be more connected to your subconscious and spiritual things. This transit often coincides with temporary or long-term stays abroad, especially for spiritual, healing, or retreat purposes. Jupiter here brings divine support, but it's still a time of inner work, letting go, forgiveness, and closure. Your sleep, dreams, and downtime become more meaningful and healing You will sleep more deeply or need more rest, have vivid or symbolic dreams, discover spiritual ways to relax (yoga, meditation, water rituals). Jupiter expands your subconscious, psychic, and intuitive faculties. Jupiter brings a chance to merge with the divine, your higher self, or the universal flow. It's a sacred time-often quiet, misunderstood by others, but rich with insight.

🐠Virgo Rising- during this time you can socialize more and spend time with friends. You can meet a new circle of people and connect with people from abroad. You can also meet someone new from abroad. You can find a new path that suits you better and makes you feel more like yourself. You can manifest things more easily. You attract allies, mentors, or groups that help your dreams grow faster than you imagined. Receive more income or bonuses. Get recognition or support for your work. Jupiter brings a wider perspective. Your dreams may become more collective-you want to make a difference, help people, or create something meaningful beyond yourself. Humanitarian, global, or innovative causes may call to you now. It brings social luck, dream expansion, greater confidence in your vision, and meaningful allies. It's a powerful time to network, share your purpose, and receive the blessings of the seeds you've already planted.

🌸Libra Rising-During this time you may get more luck related to work or a reward for work. Maybe you can adjust your path or career depending on what stage of life you are in because you can also take a break from work during this time. You have more freedom, period, and you don't have to work as much anymore. You can change careers or achieve a desired goal during this time. You can experience many fateful moments and things that take you in a completely different direction. Jupiter in this house can also mean getting married or engaged because it also represents a sign of getting married in a more serious way or making a serious commitment to someone. Earning money through international or digital means. Outgrow certain friendships. See friends experience hardship while you're focused on your path. Feel disconnected from your old community. This is a classic "success can feel lonely" kind of theme. Stay grounded and compassionate. These interpretations reflect possible major karmic closures connected to visibility, status shifts, or public transitions. They are not guaranteed outcomes: Bring status changes (e.g., divorce, loss, or major transitions in family structure), Trigger ancestral or karmic events (especially if Saturn or Pluto are also involved). Success or outer growth leads to inner questioning. You might feel the pressure of status and crave authenticity over ambition. You could step back temporarily to redefine your mission.

🦋Scorpio Rising- During this time you can travel more and travel longer distances, which are further away. You can go on the trip you've always wanted. This usually symbolizes larger journeys that give you more meaning in life or through which you find yourself and your faith. Dive deeper into philosophy, theology, or law. Develop or restructure your belief systems. You can move abroad, connect with foreigners or foreign culture, study or teach overseas. You might join or leave a religious/spiritual group. Explore new belief systems. You may find faith and meaning in new or deeper ways. Even skeptics may have a spiritual awakening during this transit. You might: Publish your work (books, blogs, creative content), gain recognition for your philosophical or visionary ideas. More fun, optimism, and expansion in your romantic life. You feel freer to love, play, and express joy-especially when it connects to meaning and passion.

🍒Sagittarius Rising- you can get a lot of money from other people. Jupiter acts as a guide through the underworld-not in a negative sense, but by expanding your access to depth, mystery, intimacy, shared resources, and spiritual power. Access deep spiritual states (meditation, astral travel, dream work). Receive messages from spirit guides or the unconscious. Experience personal death and rebirth moments-symbolic or energetic. Support from others financially (partner, bank, inheritance, grants, investments). Opportunities to manage or benefit from pooled money. Jupiter brings abundance when you combine forces, not when you try to do everything alone. If you're in a committed relationship, your partner may come into new resources or be more generous. Some may literally receive an inheritance (money, wisdom, or property). If single, you might attract a partner with financial stability-or someone who opens the door to emotional or material transformation. You may deepen your emotional and sexual bonds. Learn to trust and be vulnerable at new levels. Heal from past trauma around intimacy, abandonment, or power struggles. Jupiter brings expansion through surrender and soul merging. You learn that true intimacy is a gateway to freedom, not loss of control. Gain wisdom through loss, endings, or psychological breakthroughs. Jupiter can also save you from accidents or saves you from illness.

💍Capricorn Rising-During this time, you can enter into a serious relationship that will bring you a lot of joy and happiness. You can find someone who will really suit you and even a person who can be from another country. Someone who is wise, adventurous, optimistic, and fun. You can usually get into a relationship with someone you know from before, or a relationship that may have started recently can turn into something more serious. You can also get engaged or married during this time. You can also meet a serious partner or soulmate-type figure. Attracting partners who are wise, foreign, older, or more spiritual. You may be drawn to someone older, well-traveled, or with a teacher/guru vibe. Your partner could bring new belief systems, worldviews, or cultures into your life.Realizing the spiritual purpose behind your relationships. You may see clearly who truly supports you and who doesn't. You can also start your business or attract business partnerships or collaborations. Some friends may leave your life if your values no longer align. Jupiter teaches us that others are often mirrors, showing us what we need to grow through. If you have saturn & jupiter in this house it can means you will very serious about commitment.

🌌Aquarius Rising- The focus will be on your routine, daily life and work. You can get the job you wanted. During this time, you can have more job interviews and people can see potential in you. Your relationship with your body can change and you can start to love your body more and accept yourself for who you are during this time. A shift in how you see your physical body-more respect, less shame. A desire to treat your body like a temple, not a machine. Jupiter brings optimism and expansion. Can expose issues if you've neglected your health (inflammation, overindulgence, liver or weight issues). Encourages holistic or natural healing approaches-herbs, nutrition, body-mind awareness. You may feel more enthusiastic about structure, or even crave it after chaos. Jupiter helps you expand your daily rituals into something meaningful-morning walks, gratitude practices, or study routines. You may adopt or foster pets. It teaches that growth isn't only spiritual or romantic-it's in how you treat your body, how you serve others, and how you care for your space, pets, and work.

🌙Pisces Rising- During this time you can meet someone new and have a new romance. This is a highly romantic transit—new love can come in, or an existing romance can be rekindled with more joy and adventure. Jupiter attracts partners who are fun, creative, and possibly foreign, spiritual, or generous. If you're healing from past heartbreaks, Jupiter brings light, confidence, and hope for love again. Creative investments (like starting a business, selling art, etc.) are favored more than reckless gambling. You might become pregnant, give birth, or be surrounded by children more than usual. If you have children already, this transit brings growth, travel, joy, or spiritual learning through them. You may write poetry, music, or stories. You may feel more drawn to play, leisure, and pleasure. Sports and performance activities may bring recognition, fun, or healing. Play, laughter, romance, and creativity become your medicine. Relaxation now often comes from doing things you love. Travel, dance, painting, nature, or falling in love might all feel like soul restarts.

✨U can book a reading here✨

-Rebekah🌊🦋

[mercvry-glow]

What we don’t say | In Another Light (2)

In Another Light masterlist - Jack Abbot x Ex!reader

warnings. age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 27), exes to lovers, slowburnish, jack and reader are bad at feelings, mentions of sex, reader is hinted to have some forms of depression and anxiety, more to come as series continues

summary. finally thrown into the steady chaos of your first night back, the rhythm of the ER feels both familiar and jarring. working alongside john brings a strange comfort—the buzz of night shift grounding you as you fall back into old habits. it’s not always smooth sailing, but there’s something reassuring about being back with your original crew. as you catch snippets of hospital gossip that has unfolded in your absence, jack continues to linger in your periphery, never far out of sight, his watchful gaze a quiet constant as patients trickle in and the adrenaline begins to build.

notes. finally getting into the longer chapters! sorry for the long wait guys, I got so busy with school, work, and moving that I had like no time to work on this but I hope you guys enjoy as always! sorry there's not much jack in this chapter, but y'all get work besties john and parker today.

wc. 3200+

“He’s staring at you again.”

“Oh.”

 Your response was automatic, barely registering over the sound of the monitor beeping and the gentle click of your pen as you jotted down vitals.

Shen didn’t say anything else. He didn’t have to. You knew who he meant.

It was 9:45 when the trauma came in—motorcycle collision, blunt chest trauma, possible internal bleeding. You and Shen jumped in without needing to speak. You slipped into your roles like second skin.

The trauma bay buzzed with urgency, voices overlapping, gloves snapping on, the patient groaning through a fractured rib. John barked out vitals from the monitor, and you moved quickly to start a second IV, checking his airway as Shen called for a chest tube setup.

You worked around each other seamlessly. Years of rhythm between the two of you smoothed even the roughest moments. Where Shen was calm and technical, you were grounding—steady hands and gentle words. Together, you made a solid team.

And you could feel the eyes on you.

Not the patient’s.

Not the trauma tech’s.

Jack.

You didn’t have to look to know. You felt him staring from outside the bay, the way you might feel the press of gravity—unseen, constant, and inescapable.

He didn’t say a word. Just stood a few feet back with Bridget, quietly observing, watching the flow of care, the choices you made.

The night charge nurse muttered something to him that you couldn’t hear due to the glass wall, and Jack gave the smallest shake of his head, like he didn’t want to respond. His arms were crossed, expression unreadable as always.

Still watching.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes.

The trauma stabilized after twenty minutes. The patient was wheeled off to CT, and the room cleared little by little until it was just you, John, and the dull thrum of adrenaline still in your veins.

You peeled off your gloves, tossing them in the bin, and took a breath like it was the first one you’d had in hours.

Shen passed you a clean towel to wipe the blood off your forearm. “He doesn’t usually look at anyone like that.”

You gave a short laugh through your nose. “That supposed to make me feel better?”

“No,” Shen said plainly. “Just seems worth saying, it’s good to have you back by the way.”

You glanced toward the glass of the trauma bay door where Jack had been. He was gone now. Only a few nurses and other doctors lingered, all working in their own right.

You sighed. “We should check on a few of the other patients before we get his CT results back.”

“After you, Doctor.”

You walked out without another glancing back at the taller man. 

Jack could watch all he wanted. No matter how much his gaze irritated you. 

You still had a job to do.

By the time you and Shen stepped out of the trauma bay, the adrenaline had faded just enough to leave a dull ache behind your eyes. But there was no time to linger. A new patient was already being wheeled into one of the rooms down the hall—chest pain, late 60s, borderline hypotensive. Shen caught the update first and gave a subtle nod toward the room. You followed him in once again, slipping a fresh pair of gloves on before even reading the chart.

The next stretch of time blurred together. You moved on autopilot—talking the patient through the process, charting on the fly, handing off labs, adjusting meds. Nothing dramatic, nothing flashy. Just work. Always work. The kind of work that kept people breathing and the ER from falling apart.

Somewhere in the middle of getting an EKG printed and ordering cardiac enzymes, you felt it again—that flicker of attention.

You didn’t stop to look this time.

You just kept moving. Talked to the patient’s wife. Wrote orders. Laughed at a joke she cracked. The rhythm of the shift slowly took back over, and with every task completed, you felt your body sink deeper into the comfort of control. Of knowing your purpose here.

Eventually, John peeled off to check on labs, and you were left alone in the room, pressing gently over the patient’s ribs to check for pain.

Outside the curtain, you could hear footsteps, voices, someone wheeling past a portable monitor. The usual. Background noise.

You finished your note. You patted the patient’s arm and reassured him gently before stepping back into the corridor. Another nurse passed you, calling your name for help in a room two doors down. You responded before your brain even fully caught up.

It unnerved you how quickly you fell back into the rhythm of things. This was supposed to be hard. You were supposed to feel out of place, off-balance, like you’d forgotten how to do this.

But instead, your body remembered before your mind even caught up—hands steady, words automatic, instincts still razor sharp, just like in the mornings. It felt wrong, almost, how easy coming back had been coming back to night shift.

Sure, talking to Jack—if you could call that awkward two-minute exchange "talking"—had been unsettling to say the least. A quiet minefield of tension layered under clinical indifference. But even that felt dulled, like a memory half-erased by time and stubbornness.

And he was everywhere. Or it felt like he was.

Just about every corner, every hallway, every half-glance through glass. Sometimes you’d turn and see his back as he walked away. Other times, it was just the edge of his voice, deep and clipped as he spoke to someone at the nurses’ station or barked out a med order mid-resus.

Whatever this was, it was different.

The air between you wasn’t angry anymore—thick with unsaid things and grief-shaped silence sure. But it wasn’t neutral, either. There was still something there. Sharp. 

Unresolved.

You weren’t sure what unnerved you more: the weight of that... or how much of it you were starting to ignore just to get through the shift.

You checked your watch. A little after 10:30pm

Still more than half the night to go.

Shen passed you in the hallway, handing off a chart without missing a beat. “They’re dumping another one on us. Room 12. You want it, or should I?”

You took the clipboard. “I’ve got it.”

Because work—this work—was the only thing that made sense right now.

And until the rest of it caught up, you’d keep your head down and your hands busy.

Room 12 was dim when you walked in, lights low and the gentle whir of the wall-mounted fan humming in the background. The mother looked up the moment you entered, eyes wide with worry and fatigue. She was holding her daughter close against her chest, rocking slightly in the stiff-backed chair beside the bed.

“Hi there, you must be mom.” you said gently before introducing yourself, offering a quick, reassuring smile as you stepped into the bay and pulled on gloves. “What’s your daughter’s name?”

The mother adjusted the child in her arms slightly. “Sophie. She’s three.”

You nodded, crouching a little to get to eye level. “Hi Sophie,” you said softly, watching for any signs of alertness. The girl was flushed, her eyes glassy and barely tracking movement. Her skin was warm and a bit damp under the harsh fluorescent light. You reached for your penlight. “Can I take a quick look, sweetheart?”

Sophie didn’t flinch when the light passed over her pupils.

Not good.

You straightened, exchanging a glance with the mother. “You said she’s been like this all day?”

The woman nodded quickly, voice low and frantic. “Started last night with a little cough. But this morning she felt warm. I gave her Tylenol but the fever never broke. And she’s barely said anything all day—she just… sleeps. She never sleeps like this. She hasn’t eaten either, and she feels so hot, like… like she’s burning up.”

You placed a hand on the girl’s forehead, confirming the fever. Her breathing was shallow and slightly rapid, her lips tinged just the faintest bit blue at the edges.

“I’m going to have a nurse come in and start a line,” you told the mom, keeping your voice calm. “We’re going to draw some labs, give her some fluids, and get her fever under control while we run some tests. Right now, she’s dehydrated and that’s making things worse, but we’re going to help her, okay?”

The mother nodded quickly, trying to keep her composure. “Is it serious?”

“It’s something we’ll need to work on, fast” you said carefully. “It’s good that you brought he rin, we’re gonna do everything we can to get her better.”

You stepped outside just long enough to flag down a nurse for an urgent line and stat labs. When you turned back to the door, Jack was standing just a few feet away.

He hadn’t been there when you walked out.

He must’ve caught part of the conversation. His expression was unreadable again, jaw tight, eyes scanning the chart in his hand. But when his gaze shifted to you, there was something softer—flickering behind the steely gaze.

You raised a brow. “Do you need something, Dr. Abbot?”

He didn’t answer right away. “I saw the chart. Thought I might lend a hand,”

You nodded slowly, measured. “I’ll let you know. I’ve got it under control for now, I don’t need another babysitter.”

“Okay,” he said, but didn’t move. Just kept looking at you like there was more he wanted to say, like maybe now wasn’t the time but he was teetering on the edge of it anyway.

Before the silence could stretch too long, Shen called down the hall, “Chest pain guy’s CT is back. You want to go over it?”

You turned your head. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec.”

When you looked back, Jack was already turning away.

Just like that. Never staying for long.

You exhaled slowly, bracing a hand against the wall for a second before heading down the hall to join Shen.

Still more than six hours left in the shift. And Jack, it seemed, wasn’t going to stop hovering.

But like you’d told yourself before: you had a job to do.

And right now, a sick little girl needed you more than Jack Abbot ever did. 

When you found John he was already scrolling through the chest CT on the monitor in the corner of the nurse’s station, one hand braced against the desk, the other holding a protein bar he’d clearly forgotten to eat.

“Find anything?” you asked, stepping up beside him.

“Yeah,” he said, offering you the screen. “Pulmonary contusion, maybe a small hemothorax, but no major vascular injury. Could’ve been worse.”

You leaned in slightly, eyes scanning the slices. “Agreed. We’ll keep an eye on that left side, but he should stabilize once the fluids catch up.”

John let out a low hum of agreement before tossing the unopened protein bar on the desk. “You know,” he said casually, “he was still standing there when I passed 12. Jack.”

You didn’t look at him. “And?”

“And,” Shen drawled, “for a guy who allegedly has nothing to say to you, he sure loiters a lot. Stares like he's waiting for a sign from God or some shit.”

You sighed and picked up the patient chart from the desk, flipping it open. “He’s probably just worried about the cases I’m on.”

“Uh-huh,” Shen said with the flat sarcasm of someone who’d known you too long to buy it. “I’ve worked here five years and have never seen that man ‘worried about a case’ unless the patient was coding or throwing punches.”

Before you could formulate a retort, Ellis strolled up with two cups of coffee and her usual too-smooth grin.

“I swear, the tension in this hallway could cure my caffeine addiction,” she said, passing you one of the coffees and raising his eyebrows. “Jack still hovering like a ghost of failed relationships past?”

You took the coffee, despite yourself. “I’m not discussing this with you.”

“Good, because I’m not asking,” Ellis said cheerfully, leaning against the counter beside Shen. “Just observing. Man’s walking around like someone stole all 50 of his extra 11-blades”

“He’s not my problem,” you muttered, trying to refocus on the chart in your hands.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Shen said under his breath.

Ellis sipped her coffee, watching you with that infuriating glint of amusement in her brown eyes. “Look, all I’m saying is—if someone stared at me like that across the ER, I’d either call security or ask for a second chance. No in-between.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, luckily I’m not you.”

“Tragic,” Ellis said. “If I were you, I would’ve at least milked it for the dramatic post-breakup sex. The kind that ends in a storage closet and a sexual harassment seminar.”

“Jesus,” Shen muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can we not?”

You smirked in spite of yourself, sipping the coffee. “Thank you, John! Someone has to have dignity in this conversation.”

Ellis held up both hands. “No shame here. Just saying—Jack’s hovering. You’re pretending not to care. Everyone in this department has bets on when it boils over.”

Your brows lifted. “Bets?”

“Oh yeah,” Ellis said, grinning like the devil. “Carmen’s got twenty bucks on you two making out in the ambulance bay before the week’s over.”

Shen gave you a sideways glance. “I’ve got my money on a shouting match in the stairwell.”

You stared at both of them, exasperated. “You guys are unbelievable.”

“And you’re still in denial,” Ellis said with a shrug.

You opened your mouth to respond—something sharp, something definitive—but the sound of a trauma alert overhead cut in. “This is not over!”

Shen stood up straighter immediately. “Guess we’re up.”

You shoved the chart into the bin and tossed back the rest of the coffee. “Let’s go.”

As the three of you moved down the hall toward the trauma bay, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder—just for a second.

Jack wasn’t there.

But you felt the pull anyway.

Damn him.

And damn the two of them for noticing!

The trauma bay cleared once again. Another wave handled, another body stabilized, another set of orders scribbled into the chart before you’d even caught your breath. Shen had peeled off to update the surgical team, Ellis had disappeared somewhere with a fresh coffee, and you found yourself moving on autopilot—again.

It wasn’t until you were halfway back to Room 12 that the rest of the hospital seemed to catch up with you—fluorescents buzzing too loud, your shoulders stiff from tension you hadn’t noticed until now.

Inside, the lights were dimmed slightly. Sophie was curled on her mother’s lap, cheeks flushed and damp with sweat, a cartoon playing quietly on her mother’s phone. Her mom looked up the moment you stepped in, her expression tight with worry and exhaustion.

“Sorry for the wait,” you said gently, slipping into the room and checking the monitors first. “We had a critical case come in. I appreciate you guys being patient.”

“No problem,” the mother said immediately, voice hushed but strained. “I just… she’s still so hot. And she keeps saying her tummy hurts.”

You gave a small nod, already reaching for a fresh pair of gloves. “I saw her labs just came back. Fever’s still running high—102.6—but her white count is elevated, which helps point us in the right direction.”

You knelt beside them, giving the girl another soft smile. “Hey, sweetheart. I’m your Doctor, do you remember me from earlier?”

She gave a sluggish nod, her fingers still clinging to the edge of her mom’s sweater.

“You’re being really brave,” you said, your voice low and reassuring. “Can I check your belly again? I promise I’ll be quick.”

Her mom smoothed her daughter’s hair back. “You’re okay, baby. Just like before.”

The little girl gave a small nod, and you began your exam—gentle, methodical. Her belly was tender in the lower right quadrant, and when you applied the slightest pressure, she winced and whimpered.

You exchanged a quiet look with her mom, who paled immediately.

“I think it might be appendicitis,” you said softly. “We’ll confirm with imaging, but her symptoms and labs are pointing in that direction.”

Her mother’s hand went to her mouth, tears immediately brimming. “Is she going to need surgery?”

“Most likely, yes,” you said, keeping your voice even and calm. “But the good news is we caught it early, and this hospital’s surgical team is excellent. She’s going to be okay. I’ll put in the order for an abdominal ultrasound now, and we’ll get pain control started in the meantime.”

“Okay,” the mom whispered, nodding quickly and wiping her eyes.

You gave the little girl a small pat on the arm. “We’re going to take good care of you, okay?”

As you stood and made your way to the computer, you heard the curtain rustle behind you.

John stuck his head in, you wonder if he knew he was hovering too. “Hey. Imaging is backlogged, but I flagged your order. They’ll prioritize her next.”

You gave a grateful nod. “Thanks.”

He stepped in a little more, glancing at the chart on the screen. “She gonna need surgery?”

“Looks that way.”

He exhaled, then murmured under his breath, “Hell of a first night back.”

You smirked without humor. “You’re telling me.”

John tilted his head slightly, voice dropping just enough. “You doing okay, Kid?”

You glanced back at the mom holding her daughter, still whispering soft reassurances as the girl finally drifted into a medicated sleep.

Then you looked at Shen. “Yeah.. I’m uh– I’m fine.”

He clealry didn’t believe you. You could see it in the way one of his dark brows lifted, and the way his mouth twitched like he wanted to say something else but decided against it.

You saved the orders and clicked out of the chart. “Let me know when they call for her scan.”

Shen gave a nod and turned to leave, but paused just before stepping out.

“Oh, and Ellis says the betting pool just doubled.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

Shen shrugged. “Don’t shoot the messenger. But for the record—I still think stairwell.”

Then he disappeared down the hallway, leaving you alone again in the dim room with the gentle beep of the monitor and the steady breathing of a sleeping child.

You shook your head and looked down at your watch.

Still a handful of hours to go.

And Jack hadn’t even cornered you yet.

Not that you were waiting for it.

Not that you were thinking about it.

Right?

[daisymbin]

just like this - kim mingyu

warnings: none

pairings: kim mingyu x reader

genre: best friends to....??

wc: ???

a/n: some soft gyu 😬

check out my masterlist! // gyu's m.list

mingyu doesn't hear the door to his apartment beep unlock, & he doesn't hear the door to his room opening. but mingyu shuffles in bed slightly when he feels a warm arm wrap around his own. he almost doesnt know who it is, until he does. then, he feels your leg go over and wrap around his own's; spooning him from behind.

taking advantage of him shuffling slightly to adjust better so you'd get more comfortable, you quietly whispered from behind, "gyu, it's me." as you nudge your face into the crook of his neck just a little more, getting comfortable, ready to drift off.

mhm, he hums, "I know," he answers softly.

then, a beat later, "couldn't sleep?" he asks quietly.

"i had a bad nightmare and couldn't fall back asleep since 1am" the exhaustion and slight fear still laced in your soft voice.

mingyu simply turns around completely, facing you. his eyes open slowly, still heavy with sleep, but he doesn't miss the way you looks so small in his hoodie. "turn around," he says, "I'll cuddle you to sleep."

you turn around and mingyu shifts closer, his chest flush against your back, his arm reaching around you, pulling you impossibly closer towards him. he shifts you slightly again, tucking his arm under your neck as your head rests against his pillow.

it's only then that mingyu's heart starts to stutter and speed up when he takes in a deep breath; the scent of your shampoo from earlier today mixed with a scent that's so sweet. it's unmistakably you, just your scent. "do you want to talk about it?" he offers, while the arm around you starts loosely tracing reassuring mindless circles in a small attempt to calm you.

"maybe in the morning," you utter back, "or maybe next week, or next month when i have enough courage to talk about it." you added with a sigh.

"the dream was that bad?" his eyebrows furrow slightly in concern.

mhm, you hum back, "something like that."

"tell me," he pushes; determined to make you feel better. "at least tell me who or what it's about." he adds.

after a minute too long, when mingyu thinks you've already fallen asleep, he hears you whisper so softly, "you." almost as if it wasn't meant for him to hear.

mingyu wonders if he should push it, if he should ask further. but the gnawing at his heart doesn't want to let go. if its a bad dream about him, surely he can make you feel better. right?

"what did I do? what happened?"

again, you went silent for a minute & mingyu wonders again if you've fallen asleep. but then you push yourself back towards him. your hand reaching for the his; the one drawing circles around your arm, intertwining your fingers with his. "you fell in love." you said a little louder this time.

mingyu's heart sinks to his stomach as anxiety starts to flow through his veins, his warm hands suddenly turns sweaty and starts to feel clammy around you, "with you? is that so bad?"

mingyu feels your hand tighten around his own, your thumb starts tracing circles around the back of his hand where they rest as they intertwine. "no..not bad at all. just. you didn't fall in love with me." you confessed, "you fell in love with someone else." your chest rises significantly as you take in a deep, heavy breath.

"would you have wanted me to fall in love with you instead?" your best friend asks.

"goodnight mingyu," you say, "im tired."

mingyu doesn't answer. but he wonders if you can feel just how fast his heart is beating against your back; still flushed against him.

"i love you." he says against your hair.

you don't know what he meant. he loves you...as a friend, right? probably so. how could it be anything but?

"i love you too." you answer, & mingyu too, doesn't know what it meant. as a best friend? or did you love him the way he does? the way.. you wanted him to fall in love with you too? or in the way him falling in love with someone else in your dream was so terrifying you had to come over and sleep next to him in your arms at 3am?

tomorrow. mingyu thinks to himself. tomorrow he will ask. & tomorrow he will tell you. just how terrified he is of you falling in love with someone else just the same.

& maybe tomorrow, you'd both be able to sleep soundly at night. just like this, in his bed, in his arms, in his clothes. just like this. but maybe, hopefully, with both your love out loud.

[keepingitformyself]

nothing gentle lives here

A/N: shauna shipman fic BOOYAAAA!!!! also first time writing smut pls go easy on me guys.

synopsis: she’s blood, ash and girlhood burnt at the altar.

pairings: shauna shipman x reader

genre: fluff in not its usual fluff form but more rough edged and dangerous.

warnings: typical yellowjackets violence, smut, sexual themes, sadist sex kinda, cannibalism, shauna shipman being shauna shipman. cutting people open, vegans/vegetarians dni tbh.

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

you were all just girls before this. so, what are you now?

you find yourself asking this same question over and over again. constantly racking through your brain how you’ve all become so unapologetically mad, and cruel. if what you’ve done has crossed some invisible line of morality that you can no longer go back. if you can even go back.

shauna still kisses you with a fire you’ve never known before. something you’re sure would have never existed to you had you ever been on that plane. she touches you like she’s never been more sure of something in her whole life.

like, she’s never actually existed until now. as if being out here is the best thing that could have happened to some of you.

you hate to say that there’s some truth in that. in some twisted and haunted way.

when she decided that everyone must stay behind, instead of accepting rescue, she left no room for argument. you watched in disbelief, the grief slowly flowing through you as it’s decided that, no, you won’t go home. not today.

shauna finds you crying in front of the small lake, just a few hours later.

she pulls you in as if she isn’t the reason why you’re hurting. she kisses all your tears away, shushes you, tells you it’s okay. it isn’t.

“we can’t go back, baby,” she whispers into your hair. her words make you cry even harder into the warmth of her neck. “we’re better off here,” you think, maybe that’s okay.

maybe it is fine. because truly, something this ugly, this violent, and beautiful doesn’t belong in the world out there, anyway. that maybe the wilderness is where you’re meant to be.

because even if you’re scared to admit it to yourself, a world outside of this place is just a thin guise you’re all pretending isn’t close to cracking.

and you love her. you love shauna. every dangerous, violent, grief-ridden side of her. you’ve seen her kill, seen the way she doesn’t even flinch at the sight of barbarity anymore. she smiles at it instead.

she’s kissed you with the blood of others on her lips, and you loved the taste of it. she’s handed you her blade and led you through skinning the fur off of animals you’d later eat. you’d see the way her eyes would gleam at the sight of your innocence being continuously stripped away. she loves that she’s the reason for how you unravel.

you used to only be able to cut through meat with your eyes closed. used to cover your ears so you wouldn’t hear a deer cry as it took its last breath. only able to feel the way the muscles spasm beneath your fingers. you never looked, never listened.

now, your hand no longer shakes at the weight of her knife in your hands. now, you meet shauna’s eyes as blood pools out.

but you still let out shaky breaths when she licks the blood off your fingers.

“you’re getting better and better,” she murmurs, taking the blade from your hands and finishing off the dead carcass in front of you. “i’m proud.”

you smile at her words.

you were all just girls before. you know that. you think you’re something more now. maybe worse. you don’t know. you don’t really care.

because you’re feral, you’re violent, you’re messy, but you’re loved.

and shauna loves you in ways that couldn’t exist back home.

she loves you roughly, madly, and on purpose. like everything only exists for both of you. like you’re the only thing that exists to her.

and that version of you that existed before her? the one before the crash. she’s gone now.

sometimes you hate her for it. but you love her for it more.

because being with shauna feels like you’re finally real. and whatever is left of you is hers.

even now, as you watch with your mouth agape, natalie is forced to slash open the corpse of your dead friend. mari. you’re scared. grief-stricken. you want to cry. but you want to feel shauna’s cold hands in yours more.

she watches as you stare at the way mari’s blood pools onto the snow-covered ground. you’re breath is shaky.

she doesn’t say anything. she wears a proud smile and lets you exist in the moment instead.

later, when she’s in her antler queen cloak and has finished leading everyone through a feast, she catches your wrist as you return to camp.

“say something,” you think she’s pleading for it. like she wants the reassurance that this is what she’s like now, and if you still want her this way. it hits you all then. mari. your teammate. your friend. is dead. and you ate her.

the hot tears in your eyes feel good against the cold of the air. you still don’t say anything. shauna lunges forward and kisses you. your eyes well up again at the taste of iron and meat on her lips.

her hand grips the back of your neck, her fingers tighten in your hair. she pulls back again, breathless, eyes wide and blown.

“this is the only way love can exist for me,” she breathes. “can you live with that?”

you nod. and kiss her back again. all teeth and bite.

shauna leads you back to your hut, and you let her stake her claim. she deserves it, after all. she’s your queen now.

you let her press you into your cot on the floor.

she drinks in your sighs, and you feel your body burn up at having her breathless on top of you.

you give her exactly what she wants when you feel her fingers press crescents into the inside of your thighs.

you spread yourself, soft and obedient, not because she asks you to or because she expects it, but because you want to.

and you smile at her sadisticness when she bites down on your neck, and praises you when you let out sounds for her. you revel in the feel of her. you try to ignore the biting cold just beyond the thin fur that covers the entrance.

it’s easy to when every time she touches you it burns. and it feels fucking amazing.

you gasp when she gets down to that spot right at the apex of your thighs. you try to trap her there. like if you close your thighs, maybe she’d listen.

she does. thank god, she does.

she laughs at your neediness. and pulls you open wider, rougher. like you’re hers to claim, to shape, to ruin.

“i love you like this,” she says fondly. you think, i do too.

you whimper immediately when her mouth finds you. it’s obscene the way you buck into her, the way you ground yourself by threading your fingers into her tangled hair.

there’s only her now. her mouth. her hands. the burn of her name caught in your throat as she pushes you closer and closer to unraveling.

she holds you steady when you start to shake, groaning into you like she’s starving and you’re her salvation. like you’re the last good thing left in this godforsaken wilderness, and she intends to consume every part of you.

then, just as you’re about to, she replaces her mouth with her fingers. and pushes her lips towards yours as she swallows your moans.

“you know, if you died out here,” she pants against your lips. “i’d eat your heart first.”

maybe you should be scared, or turned off at the kind of joke she’d make in such a crude moment, with her hands between your legs. but you’re too gone to care. too blissed out. even if you know she means it.

“you’d keep it safe?”

she smiles wicked and beautifully. the kind of smile you know you’d never forget. the kind of smile that brings you that much closer to the edge. “i’d keep it in me forever.”

and at her words, at the terrible truth in them, you let out one final shriek. your body arches, and you let out a silent scream, anchoring yourself on shauna’s shoulders.

she watches you with that same look she wears whenever she’s cutting into flesh and meat. the one that’s all teeth and grin. you hear the trees start to howl, the cold starts to bite, but she still doesn’t move. she’s still inside you, palm pressed to your chest.

and you let her take from you again.

[moesthoughts]

my aching bones | party time ( photo 03 )

chapter summary : After the win at nationals, everyone is stressed both about allie and the thought of packing. Despite your efforts not to board a plane, coach martinez insists, and you can’t say no to him. Lottie, hoping to alleviate the stress, decides to throw a victory party the night before the team departs.

warnings : alcohol, drug use, nat flirting and lowkey leaving you high and dry, mental health topics, suggestive themes

The locker room was tense, everyone either looking at the floor or they have their head buried in their hands. You’re in the corner, pretending to mess with your camera so you don’t worry yourself to bits over the uneasiness settling in the room. Van is pacing back and forth, she is obviously stressed. You can’t blame her, losing a teammate right before you’re about to fly to nationals, that’s difficult. The silence was painful, you stop fidgeting with your camera due to how loud it was. You glance over at Nat, whose leg was bouncing rapidly, her hand over her mouth. Everyone is stressing, not being able to see how Allie is doing must be awful. You regret not getting to know her better, she’s too popular and annoying for your liking. Even then, she didn’t deserve to break her leg.

“I mean, It can’t be that bad right?”

Jackie is the one to break the silence, as usual. Of course, she’s the team captain. It’s one of her jobs to try to alleviate tension and build the team up. You notice her words don’t work, the girls stare at her in disbelief, some picking up their stuff and leaving. Jackie bites her lip and leans on the wall behind her, averting her eyes to the floor. Nat scoffs, and looks towards Taissa who has the face akin to a guilty dog. You wonder if her plan was what caused that to happen, “freezing her out”. You understand now what she meant. You feel indifferent, as much as Taissa is a good friend, what she did today was horrible. Somewhere inside of you knows she didn’t want it to end up with Allie being hurt, knowing her, she’ll keep her strategy a secret.

“You could see her fucking bone, Jackie.”

Nat retorts, shoving her clothes into her soccer bag aggressively. She’s obviously still angry from earlier, Taissa’s stubbornness and nobody backing her up, she’s mentioned she feels alone with the team. Jackie opens her mouth to argue back but second guesses herself, walking sheepishly over to Shauna, who seems as guilty as Tai. You think about speaking up, asking about the term “freezing out”, but you know it isn’t your place, especially not being apart of the team. You stand up and lean onto the lockers, giving Nat a gentle look when she glances your way. Her face softens when you both make eye contact, she feels bad that you have to experience everyone bickering in the locker room. You all jump when Lottie slams her locker, looking at everyone with an annoyed look.

“Are you all gonna keep arguing, or are you going to get ready for the party at my place tonight?”

She announces, picking up her back and storming out of the locker room, her steps echoing followed with her slamming the door. Everyone stays silent before moving to gather their things, Nat grabs your wrist and starts walking towards the exit of the locker room. She desperately wants to get wasted and forget the sight of Allie’s leg, and you do as well.

“Nice work Taissa.”

Nat makes sure to speak up before dragging you out of the room.

Just like before the game for nationals, Nat and you are cooped up in your room, getting ready for the party. You have three dresses on your bed to pick from, and you’re struggling quite a bit. Nat eyes you from her seat across the room, she’s already dressed and her makeup was done. She watches how your eyebrows pinch together while you’re deep in thought, shifting weight between your feet to help your brain juices flow. You’re a gorgeous sight, your hair already done with shiny jewelry complimenting your skin. She bites a smirk back as you pick up a dress, looking at her curiosity.

“Hey, Nat. Can you tell me which one looks the best?”

You ask, smiling as she nods right away. You start lifting up the dresses by their hangers, pressing them to your body. Nat hums while you continuously switch between them, she can’t tell what will look best without you trying them on. She knows you’d look amazing in anything you wear anyway, but she wants to pick the best option.

“Can you try them on? It’s kinda hard to tell with you just holding them up.”

The lightbulb in your head finally turns on, you let out a small “ohh..” sound before picking up one of the dresses, a simple blue one, a floral pattern tracing the bottom of it. You turn to open your door, planning to head to the bathroom. Nat calls out your name, causing you to whip your head around. You don’t recognize the look she has on your face, but you notice how her cheeks are ever so slightly burning red. You press your back against the door, you want to know what’s going through her mind while looking at you like that. You feel nervous, small. Maybe in a good way, you’re not sure.

“Just change here, I can look away or— something.”

Nat croaks out, instantly avoiding your gaze. Your face lights up like the fourth of july, your mind wandering some place else. She didn’t mean it in an explicit way, but the way you look at her, your face beat red, maybe she did.

“Are.. you sure?”

“Very.”

Her reply was quick, making butterflies swarm in your stomach. You turn your back to her, holding your breath as you slip off your clothes slowly but surely, the thought of her eyes possibly being on you plaguing your mind. You face Nat again, smoothing over the blue dress. She instantly notices how it’s too short for you, it was from freshman year home coming. So you repeat the process over again for the other two dresses, your third one being a dark brown that compliments your body. She looks you up and down, her hand covering her mouth as she drinks in the sight.

“I like— That one’s good.”

Nat tries to be nonchalant, getting up and quickly grabbing your keys before you can. As she exits your room you finally breathe, oxygen has never felt so amazing. You can’t shake the image of her eyes checking you out, the small compliments she was uttering under her breath, thinking you couldn’t hear her. You quickly grab your jacket and head after her, your legs weak due to your nervousness.

The sound of people chatting floods your ears as you walk onto Lottie’s property, sticking close behind Nat. You’ve never been to a party before, mostly because you haven’t been invited to any, except for the party animals that constantly have an open crib. You reach out to grab Nat’s arm before noticing that she left your side to talk with her other friends, You recognize Kevyn right away, but you always forget the other one’s name. You sigh and scan for the other girls, luckily your eyes land on Shauna. She is propped up on someone’s truck, her eyes focusing on something in the distance. You make your way to her, leaning beside her on the vehicle. She doesn’t seem to notice you, her attention glued somewhere else.

“Have you ever yearned for something so much, it like.. hurts you?”

It startles you when she speaks, her tone laced with pain. You finally look over to where she’s staring, Jackie and her boyfriend Jeff, dancing and having fun. You assumed that Shauna and her have something together, but you didn’t know that it’s this bad. It causes you to glance over to Nat, laughing and talking with her friends, fidgeting with a baggie in her hands. You do know what it’s like to yearn, several hard months wanting Natalie fucking Scatorccio. It’s not as heart breaking as what Shauna is going through, you turn back to the other girl.

“Yeah, I do.”

A soft smile blooms on the other girl’s lips, she mutters something before stumbling off, she’s obviously drunk. Finally, Nat makes her way over to you, two cups of beer in hand. She seems more happy than usual, her pupils dilated with glassy eyes. You smile and take the extra cup as she hands it to you, gulping it down right away. It’s been a rough day, and you don’t want to think about it.

“Shit dude, slow down.”

Nat’s tone is sweet like honey, her hand resting on your back. You can’t tell if the alcohol was hitting you right away, or if Nat was always this bold. You snake your arms around her neck, trying to bite back the smile curving on your lips. As you try to lean in closer you hear yelling in the distance, much to the fake blonde’s dismay you turn your head. It’s Shauna and Taissa, bickering loudly. You slip away from Nat’s grasp before heading over to their direction, the other girl following after you.

“Just admit you did it on purpose.”

Shauna barks, trailing after Tai as she backs away slightly. The other girls have already gathered around the situation, looks being exchanged. Laura Lee looks like she’s about to butt in, but Lottie hooks her arm around hers, keeping her mouth shut. It is obvious what they’re arguing about, Allie’s broken leg. You’re surprised that Shauna is finally speaking up about it, her guilt was probably eating her up. They say drunk words are sober thoughts, and Shauna is letting all hers out.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, you fucking sociopath.”

Van inserts herself into the argument quickly, placing a hand onto Shauna’s shoulder. Lottie mumbles a curse under her breath, looking away from the situation.

“Woah— calm down.”

“No, listen. We won’t need to deal with the ‘Allie problem’ anymore because Taissa fixed it for us.”

Taissa grumbles, shoving her hands into her pockets. She doesn’t make it obvious, but she’s worrying. Laura Lee questions the situation, looking towards Nat and you for answers. Nat has never looked so satisfied as she does now, a smirk curls onto her lips.

“She’s talking about Taissa’s little plan.”

“Oh, please. Since when did you give a shit? Don’t you have a bong to hit or.. a dick to suck?”

Your eyebrows furrow, previously you felt indifferent about Taissa. Though, she insulted your friend. You’re so angry, but confused, you don’t know if you should butt in or not. You open your mouth to speak—

“Don’t speak to her like that!”

Shauna takes the words from your mouth, and you return to keeping your peace, your foot tapping on the ground anxiously. Fights were never your thing, still aren’t. Yet here you are, about to throw that fear out the window for Nat. Your fingers curl into the fabric of your jacket, trying to do anything but glance at any of the girls fighting, afraid that you’ll get dragged into whatever this is.

“Oh, fuck off Shauna. I don’t need you to defend me, last I checked you were fine with the whole ‘freeze her out’ strategy.”

Nat’s response wasn’t expected, you look at her with confusion, everyone else following in suit. If this is your first experience at a yellow jackets hangout, you’re not sure you want to go out with them again. Though, throwing a party after a high tension practice, everyone is drunk and angry. You don’t blame them. After Laura Lee questions the situation again they all collectively yell at her, before starting to yell at each other. You inch away from the scene, rolling your eyes as Randy yells “Cat fight”. You can’t stop this, nor did you want to. You don’t need to play hero, especially for a team you photograph for. As you slowly make it out of the area, Jackie practically runs you over, storming towards the fight. You watch as she effortlessly makes them quiet down, signaling them to follow her. You head in the opposite direction to your car, not caring how drunk you are.

You take a drag of the cigarette you just lit, throwing your head back onto the headrest behind you. You’re slowly starting to regret ever coming to this party, you don’t fit in, you’re not social, and certainly not well equipped for an argument. You aren’t mad at them, it’s not your place to be frustrated. The only person who got on your nerves was Tai, who seems like such a nice girl. You wonder if it’s all just a facade for people to like her, fake people are everywhere after all. You don’t move from your position once you hear the door open and close. A reminder that you’re supposed to drive Nat back home, a heavy sigh emits from her lips. joining you in resting on the headrests.

“Im so fucking high.”

She breaks the silence, rubbing her temples. You start the car, not wanting her to endure a headache in a car you just hot boxed. You would kill a man to be high right now, that cup of beer not hitting the way it’s supposed to. You want to go back to that feeling when you were so close to pressing your lips against Nat’s, desperately wanting to kiss way all of her lip stick. Your bones ache with need, picturing all these fantasies that likely won’t happen. Your hand grips the steering wheel as you back out of Lottie’s driveway.

“So.. your house?”

a/n : HIII.. two updates in a week wow!! I got a sudden rush of motivation for Nat.. I’m hopelessly in love. ALSO THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 300 FOLLOWERS! It was literally the beginning of this month when I just hit 100.. so crazy 🤍

a/n : again, taglist is still open! lmk if you want on

taglist — @mlovesunicorns @t-wylia @bisexual-stalin @theoreticalfreak @flurpe @girlie955 @firefl1ghts @lilliesandrosiess @princessleprechaunnn @joaniscruzing @wtfisthisnoclueman @sleepyjackets @stupendousbananasharkcop @zindoriyo @moonyxstars @scatorcciosbabe @pacatica

[sirfrogsworth]

Clinging to sanity

Summary of this post...

My brain is broken. My A/C is broken. My phone is broken. My computer is broken. My support system is broken. My financial stability is broken. My family is broken.

And the big finale...

Please give Froggie a Yelp review to repair his relationship with his estranged uncles.

Seriously, I need a whole bunch of you to say nice things about me in a convoluted plan to get back the money my brother stole from my dying father.

If you don't feel like reading all of my broken stuff and just want to read about giving me a good review as a person, you can skip to the bullet point list at the end.

Alright, here we go...

I sometimes get in these states where I feel like my sanity is compromised. My mental defenses are minimal and I lose the filter on my brain that tells me "this is a good idea" or "this is a bad idea."

This causes me to say embarrassing things. I overshare with strangers. I keep myself from falling asleep because I have some amazing idea. But when I wake up in the morning I can't believe I lost all of that sleep for such a ridiculous idea. I write weird posts that no one likes. Or I post about controversial subjects like A.I. and trans people and RFK Jr. that I *know* will result in contentious feedback.

And my insane brain says, "You can handle it! Besides, you are so factually correct about this, no one will dare question your meticulous research. IT'S ALL GOOD! SEND IT, YOLO!"

I have a rule. If I am not emotionally or mentally prepared to defend my point of view on a controversial subject, I should wait until I am ready to publish.

Insane Froggie Brain ignores this rule.

After I "send it" and the negative feedback starts to flow in (even though I was assured by my brain it wouldn't), I become afraid to look at messages and replies and reblogs. And a lot of times I need that sense of community. I need to talk to my cool little community so I don't feel lonely. But Insane Froggie Brain cuts me off from that. I give myself all of this anxiety that could have been avoided by just posting another time.

And because I have no emotional defenses, that anxiety is amplified. Mean comments hurt much more. I obsess over them and my OCD causes thought feedback loops where I cannot get something out of my brain. I once couldn't sleep for a weekend because someone said I was wrong about how light reflects off the moon. They were right and I was also right but they said I was "misleading." And that just lived in my brain for days. I kept trying to think of new ways to better explain my point of view. I used up energy I didn't really have to take pictures of a baseball in a dark closet.

It was silly. It didn't matter. It was just a small disagreement. But OCD doesn't do small. OCD makes everything BIG.

What I'm trying to say is...

People need their emotional defenses.

People need their filters.

It's weird because I still have full access to my logical brain. So sane thoughts get all mixed in with the less sane ones. Sometimes I am self aware and can shut down the less sane ideas. Other times I am oblivious. And I *hate* losing control of my brain in any way. It's one of the reasons I've never touched alcohol. Which is why I get very disturbed when this happens.

I remember one time I was positive I was going to move to Florida and start a pet photography business. I had an entire business plan worked out where I trained people how to take the photos so the business could run itself if I got sick. I made an entire PowerPoint presentation to show Katrina so she would be my business partner. I was looking up rent prices for office space. I was making equipment lists for camera gear. She was going on a trip so she told me I could talk to her about it when she returned. And I am so lucky she wasn't available at the time.

Maybe if I had a normal person's energy, I could make something like that work. But once I returned to sanity, I realized it was orders of magnitude more complicated than anything I was actually capable of doing. I am still planning to do pet photography, but I have to come up with a more reasonable plan that does not involve Insane Froggie Brain.

I think it is just my ambitious mind trying to escape. Chronic illness is often heartbreaking because you have to temper all of your ambitions. And it is especially devastating when you are a very ambitious person, as I am.

I want to have all of these big ideas. But I have to filter them through reality. And when that filter is broken, I just unleash big ideas on all my friends. I once even held an official video chat meeting and we took notes and made plans. And I feel so guilty I wasted 4 people's time like that. None of those ideas happened. They had no chance of happening with my energy levels. But my friends and collaborators still did the meeting and nodded along like everything was fine. I appreciate them humoring me.

I also overshare. I overshare normally, but when I get like this I OVER SHARE. You are probably going to witness it in this very post. But I tell everyone everything about what is going on. I tell strangers. I tell a dog walking by.

"Hey doggie, my testosterone is returning and I'm struggling with having a libido again. I know most people would not complain, but it is very disruptive to my day! I have other things I want to do!"

Right now I am just not confident in anything I think or do. I wrote a post about social constructs yesterday. That literally took me all day to write. I was endlessly tweaking it and I thought it was going to be viral and helpful and win the trans debate for everyone.

It currently has 49 notes.

I'm afraid I did not fix trans rights.

Sorry about that.

And my rant about Christopher Nolan using IMAX is doing pretty well. I nerded out about film grain for like 2 paragraphs and it is getting way more notes than a philosophical perspective on constructs.

I just have no idea what people are going to like and I used to be pretty good at judging that. It's like I'm throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks but instead of a wall I'm throwing it into the void. The spaghetti just disappears into infinite darkness.

I'm clearly still recovering from the big house clean with Katrina. And I am more tired than normal. But I am also very stressed about losing the house. I'm trying to figure it out, but I may only have until the end of June before I have to make some scary decisions.

And also, my air conditioner is not working. It has a leaky evaporator. Last year, I had it recharged and that lasted the entire summer. If the leak is leaking at the same rate, I could just do that again. It would be expensive, but replacing the evaporator is so costly, I'd be better off getting a heat pump installed. I'm a good candidate, it could save me money in the long run, but I am nowhere near in a position to make that happen.

Also, my phone is falling apart.

Literally. The only thing keeping it together is the phone case.

And this laptop, which I love, was not meant to be my main computer. I bought it when my dad was sick and I needed something upstairs to manage his prescriptions and bills and appointments. It wasn't meant to be an image editing machine. And, to their credit, Apple has made a crazy powerful little computer. I admit it, I love an Apple product. It can handle way more than expected. But my photo restorations can sometimes end up with 5 gigabyte files. I can't even save them as PSDs. I have to use this weird "PSB" format. It stands for "Photoshop Big." When I fill up the RAM, my computer uses the main SSD. And when I fill that up, I think I can hear the laptop crying and saying, "I wasn't meant for this! Please use fewer layers!"

But I need to finish restoring these photos because I have delayed their completion by about 5 months (got sick before I could finish). And also because I need to pay for the A/C recharge.

You might be thinking, "Didn't you fundraise to get the big fancy powerful computer of your dreams a few years ago? Why don't you use that?"

My big fancy computer has been broken almost since I got it.

It was right before my mom got really sick and there is a major hardware problem. I worked with tech support for over a month and we could not figure out what the issue was. The computer is mostly unusable. Like, "can't even web browse" unusable.

It honestly has caused me so much depression. Like deep, deep, crying-myself-to-sleep-for-weeks depression. I still cry about it. I know it is just a thing, but I am genuinely heartbroken about it.

Why haven't I fixed it? I'm a good computer fixer, right?

Once I had to take care of my parents, I just did not have any extra energy to deal with it. After a month of back-and-forth emails from the manufacturer, I finally told them, "I'm sorry, my parents are sick. I will email you when I have the energy to revisit this."

If you know my story and how I took care of my parents all alone because I have a neglectful brother, then you can probably guess that energy never came.

I am good at tech support. I have been an expert in computers since I was a teenager. I have taken apart and built computers more times than I can count. I have never had a problem this frustrating before. It works fine for a few hours, and then it just progressively slows down to being unusable. I narrowed the issue to either the SSD, the CPU, or the motherboard. All things that are not easy to replace. (The SSD is behind the damn GPU.)

In the 30s, the Royal Air Force used to have issues with their planes that baffled them. This is where the term "gremlin" came from. No matter what they did, no matter how many parts they replaced, they could not get the "gremlin" out of the plane. These were professional mechanics who just could not fix something and it drove them nuts.

I have a computer gremlin. I've never experienced anything like it in all of my years of fixing computers. I was working with professional tech support people. I was on reddit forums. And the only thing left to do was start swapping out parts. I'd work on it maybe an hour each day with whatever energy I had and it eventually was too much. I just could not deal with it. They told me to send it back, but I could not take care of my parents without any access to a computer. So I just rebooted it every time I used it.

At that point, my parents were requiring 24/7 care and I was so overwhelmed that I said, "fuck it" and ordered this laptop. I figured I'd fix the computer when I had time or energy. But that time and energy never came. And I certainly didn't have the energy to haul a 60 pound computer upstairs, box it up, and then take it to UPS. So I just kept putting it off and putting it off.

And I let the warranty expire.

When I realized I did that, I cried myself to sleep for another few weeks. This material object has caused me legitimate emotional trauma.

Any part replacements are now on me. And there isn't really any way of knowing which part is faulty. I figured I'd buy a cheap SSD and start there.

I feel so fucking guilty because people donated money for me to have that machine. I feel like I let them all down by not getting it fixed. When I finish my recovery, I'm hoping I can sort it out. But that could be many months from now.

Recovery has been such a dark, lonely place. Trying to restore my health a millimeter at a time is a grueling marathon of misery. I have been struggling to keep Insane Froggie Brain at bay this entire time.

I felt like I was stuck in a hole.

And like a superhero with the power of friendship and puns, Katrina pulled me out of the giant hole I was in. My house turned into a biohazard. She flew from Florida to essentially clean and organize everything. How do you even begin to thank someone for that?

But also, she shouldn't have had to do that. I have a perfectly functional brother. But he hasn't spoken to me for nearly a year now.

I have other family in town. But I missed so many family gatherings over the years, they don't really know me. None of them have called. I'd have to rebuild those relationships if I want them to be a part of my life again.

And I haven't talked about this yet because it has been too painful.

But... my support system fell apart.

My aunt had to move away to take care of her father-in-law. A year before my mom passed she took care of my grandma as her end-of-life caregiver. And people should only have to do that once. But she has to do it again, and unfortunately, we haven't been able to speak much.

We were very good at keeping in touch in real life. But she is of an older generation and has trouble maintaining relationships on a smartphone. I mean, I get it. Some people are just better at meatspace than cyberspace. That was actually one of the things I liked about our bond. Almost all of my friendships are online. Having someone who liked to visit me and talk to me in person was special.

But, for the time being, I lost that. And it feels a bit like temporarily losing another parent.

I am struggling to even start writing the words for this next part.

I had two best friends. Katrina and I are great. Our friendship is probably better than it has ever been.

But my other best friend of nearly 15 years ghosted me without explanation.

I haven't talked about it because it has been too hard. Any time I try to think about it I get upset. My eyes are filling up with tears as I type this.

I have been pretending like it isn't happening.

Which is not working great.

I've been trying to hire a therapist.

They all have months-long waiting lists.

My friend just stopped talking to me and I don't know why.

They went from driving across the country and holding my hand at my dad's funeral to just not being a part of my life.

I'm so scared I said something terrible or did something terrible. I keep going through all of my memories trying to figure out what I could have done. But we had the kind of friendship where we'd talk about that stuff. If I screw up, they would tell me. We'd work it out.

This person who was in my life nearly every week for over a decade is just not there anymore. I keep losing people and I can't make it stop. And I am really worried that I am leaning on Katrina too much. She went from being part of a multifaceted support system to my entire support system. That isn't fair to her.

She has been very understanding. And she knows I am going to rebuild a support system as soon as I am able. But I don't want to overwhelm her and lose her too.

Weaning off this medication and living with no testosterone has been so miserable and she has been the only one helping me through it.

I'm doing so well with my recovery. I think I can be off the meds in 3 months and hopefully my testosterone will be fully back in range. I'm already more productive than I have been in nearly 8 months.

But I have 1 month of financial runway left and I am not going to get well enough before then.

Everything happens all at once. Every single time. And usually terrible things happen in my life at the same time terrible things happen in Katrina's life. She had terrible mold that destroyed her health for months. Thankfully it did not turn her transphobic, but it sure fucked her health for a while. She made all of this progress getting fit and healthy and BAM, the universe says, "You are doing too well, you need a challenge!"

So, what is my plan?

I am a problem solver and I have some doozies to solve.

Right now I am going to appeal to the family patriarchs on my dad's side. On his literal deathbed, my dad asked his brothers to "take care of me" and I am going to attempt to call in that favor.

I am going to ask them to talk to my brother and hopefully mediate a solution regarding the stolen inheritance. I want them to convince my brother to do the right thing and return the money he took from my dad.

Sorry, the money he "legally inherited" due to his wife "reinterpreting my dad's wishes" in the will.

Before you ask, I have no options to fight this in court. A verbal promise is not enough to overturn a written will. And the cost of fighting would be more than the inheritance. Please don't suggest any legal advice. I've talked to good lawyers. And unless I want to sue for emotional distress, there aren't any legal options available.

The best option is to appeal to my brother personally and ask him to keep his promise to my dad.

The only reason I am in this mess is because my brother repeatedly promised to give me the money. He said he didn't want it on multiple occasions. So all of my plans involved the expectation of this money. I was going to fix up the basement apartment and seek a roommate.

But it took over a year to just get it out of probate. A year I could have used to come up with other solutions. But he waited until the last minute and made his lawyer tell me he was screwing me.

I'm sure my brother will argue my dad knew what he was signing. But I know that is impossible. Before my dad passed, we were in the hospital and I saw the will for the first time. I asked him if it reflected his wishes. And I asked him if he meant to include my brother's wife in the will.

His response was, "Are you fucking kidding me???"

Readers, does that sound like a man that knew what was in his will?

Dad was so upset that he was about to have them cut off his leg just so he could live a few more weeks and fix the will.

You have to give my dad credit, he goes pretty hardcore when it comes to protecting his family.

I couldn't let him go through an amputation to protect me from my brother's shenanigans.

But I am pretty screwed now.

That said, my uncles are pretty hardcore too. One is *very* intimidating. So I feel like my uncles talking to my brother might carry some weight.

But I have one problem...

I mean, aside from the myriad problems already described.

How about... I have one additional problem...

My uncles don't like me very much.

They think I am a basement-dwelling loser who is faking his illness and was taking advantage of his parents for two decades.

One uncle even accused me of stealing from my dad.

They are protective of their brother. They loved my dad. Which is a good thing! As long as I can convince them that their assumptions about me are invalid, I think their love for my dad will compel them to help me.

They just don't have the context. They don't know me. They live in far-off lands. And due to some unfortunate timing, one uncle saw me at one of the lowest points of my life. This was maybe 8 years ago? He didn't realize I was thrown into the deep end and very recently took on the role as full-time caregiver for two very sick people.

My awful strategy at the time was "if I don't take care of myself, I'll have more energy to take care of my parents." If you are a caregiver, this is a bad strategy. It seems obvious you have to do some self care to give care to others, but when you are just starting out, that seems impossible.

My uncle showed up unannounced and I wasn't showered, I hadn't brushed my teeth in a week, and my room had a fun layer of trash on the floor. The trash can was overflowing and I literally did not have the spare energy to change the bag.

To make matters worse, my mom's medications and constant pain had broken the filter in her brain that prevents her from saying mean things. She was on this crazy chemo-like infusion that was basically using poison to fight her psoriatic arthritis. Her aggressive, blunt remarks were not her fault. That wasn't who she was. But she could not stop herself from saying hurtful things.

The kindest woman alive was suddenly Don Rickles without the "just kidding" subtext. And my uncle didn't know this and I got into an argument with my mom.

I probably looked like a pampered brat loser who just lies in bed and plays video games all day while arguing with his saint of a mother.

I don't blame him. Without context, that's exactly what it looked like.

So I am writing my uncles a letter.

It is essentially a memoir of the caregiving I gave to my parents. I hope to publish it publicly at some point, but right now it is just a letter to them. If it were a typical hardcover book, it would be about 70 pages long.

I am telling them everything.

If nothing else, I just need them to know my dad's story. I need them to know he was well taken care of. That I did everything humanly possible to make his last year as comfortable as I could. I need them to know he was *never* alone.

Sadly, because they probably think I am an unreliable narrator, I am my own worst witness. So I am asking 3 people in my current support system to write testimony to verify everything in my memoir is accurate. I even have a doctor's note!

It is probably insane to put this much effort into convincing my uncles to like me. But I'm pretty sure Sane Froggie Brain is behind the wheel of this endeavor. Sometimes the craziest, most desperate idea is the only option left.

Basically I am using my writing skills to try and save my Froggie butt.

I don't mean to be braggadocious, but people perusing my prose persistently pontificate that I am proficient at penning pleasing passages.

People say I write good sometimes.

And I think this memoir letter thingie is the best thing I've ever written. So I am hopeful I will deflate these dubious assumptions and tug on my uncles' heartstrings.

But there is something you all can do to help me.

A friend on tumblr is helping me edit this memoir monstrosity. And she gave me her testimonial to add to my 3 witnesses.

"I have been following The Frogman for well over a decade on his website. It was years before I learned his name was Benjamin! We all just call him Froggy. He was (and still is) one of the funniest internet guys out there. He is incredibly skilled at putting together humorous GIFs and photo sets, and his comedic writing is second to none. He regularly goes viral. Along with that, he was open and vulnerable about the toll CFS takes on him. I can attest to many folks over the years telling him that he has helped them as they dealt with their own health issues. He is so knowledgeable about so much--his posts are famous for being long, detailed, and wildly informative. And most of all, entertaining. They are a joy to read. We also followed along on his heartbreaking journey with his parents. He shared so much of them with us over the years that they felt like people we knew. It was so clear, from his long absences, how much he was doing for them. Our hearts broke when he told us his parents were no longer with us. Froggy has fans, and so did his parents. Otis, too. We love and support him and will always wish him the best."

It made me cry.

But it also felt like getting a Yelp review on... my entire deal.

And it gave me an idea.

What if I had a bunch of these as optional testimony for my uncles?

I'm not going to force them to read what a bunch of internet strangers have to say. But it could be a compelling way to prove my website antics were a serious attempt to build a livelihood for myself. My uncles were successful businessmen and respect a strong work ethic and trying to make your own way.

I was too early for monetization options like Patreon, TikTok, YouTube, and Twitch, but I ran a very successful comedy blog. If I had my 2013 success in the 2020s, I probably would've been able to retire and live off that for the rest of my life. I have several original GIFs that were downloaded tens of millions of times. Google said one of them was searched for over 100,000,000 times.

My blog was silly, but I took it seriously and I had sponsors and merch and an Otis plush.

They think what I did was like when you are at the family Christmas gathering and you ask your weird cousin what he's been up to and he says, "I run a blog about corgis from my parents' basement."

How do I relate the impact I had? They don't know what "Know Your Meme" is. They don't know what being on the front page of Reddit means. They don't know the amazing community I built. They don't know that I created one of the largest and most generous online support systems one could possibly have. I'm still alive and trying to make a life for myself because all of you continue to love and support me.

I was successful and I worked hard despite my disability.

I just had bad timing with the financial aspect of that success.

So, if you want to leave a Yelp review of The Frogman for my uncles, I'd appreciate it.

I came up with a list of things I need to prove to them. I'm just going to copy/paste the entire thing here. I'll strikethrough the ones you all probably can't speak to.

I am not a basement dwelling loser.

My website was more than a silly hobby.

I did not mooch off my parents for 20+ years.

I did not steal from my parents.

I am not the crazed, awkward mess [my uncle] witnessed.

I am disabled.

I cannot get a job.

I am a good person.

I am a likable person.

I was a good son.

I took good care of my parents.

My parents would not have been better off in a nursing home.

My parents would not have been better off moving closer to my brother.

My brother and his wife neglected and emotionally abused Mom & Dad.

My brother and his wife changed the will to benefit them against my mom & dad’s wishes.

My brother promised repeatedly the will was a mistake and I would receive the full amount.

I did not take care of my parents to “retain the house” or get money.

So, if you want to attempt to convince two elderly conservative Catholic men that my cat memes were lit, I would appreciate the help.

If you’ve been part of this community, and you’ve ever felt like I made you laugh, cry, or feel understood, a short 'review' of me as a person could mean the world.

Just remember your audience is...

Uncle #1: A stoic, but brilliant 80 year old who writes text messages like they are business emails. Complete with "Dear Ben" and "Regards, Your Uncle". He is still very sharp-minded and lucid. He thinks success is a high paying job, a house, and a family (my brother). He does not like weakness and consistently thought I should "be an adult and get a job." He is very loyal and respected my dad very much.

Uncle #2: A 60-something retired grandpa who thinks his constant dad jokes are genuinely funny. He is empathetic, but secretly judgmental. He will act like your best friend even if he doesn't care for you. He is an amazing grandpa. Very involved with his kids and their kids. He keeps every video of them getting a goal in sportsball on his phone. He will help you if you think you deserve to be helped. He is very close with Uncle #1.

So... kinda running the gamut there.

You can reblog this post or leave a reply or send a private message or email me at frogman54@gmail.com

I will be anonymizing your names for obvious reasons.

I fear my uncles might not understand why Tumblr user "PokemonAssBlaster69" is saying nice things about me.

Explaining "The Frogman" is hard enough.

Anyway, thank you in advance.

[th3secr3th1story]

geto reaction to you getting badly injured in a mission with him

stay with me - geto suguru

summary: when you get badly injured in a mission with geto

thanks for the req! hope you enjoy. this one is longer, set in 3rd year + no geto expulsion or kenjaku possession lol, fluff turned angst turned fluff, descriptions of violence/fighting ykyk. prob my fave thing i've written :') pls enjoy!

words: 2423

"on your left."

"yes, sir!"

it wasn't uncommon for geto and you to get assigned for the same missions. you were known to work extremely well together, efficiently damning curses as you defeated them one by one. in fact, whenever it was something urgent, yaga tended to send the two of you together rather than geto and gojo, because he couldn't always trust gojo those two to stay focused on what needed to get done.

you had known geto ever since you entered tokyo jujutsu high, quickly forming a friendship with the boy as you initially bonded over ear gauges. you had been dreaming of doing it for yourself for the past few years, but were too unsure of the process to get started. geto encouraged you to take the risk and helped you through all of it, even going out with you to pick the best gauges for beginners. he practically became your q&a source, answering all your questions which ranged from "is it too soon for me to move up a size yet?" to "how can i hide these from my parents?"

your initial friendship only grew from there, occasionally hanging out in each other's dorm rooms or meeting up at a cafe to get some work done. you talked about anything and everything, whether that be zaru soba (his favorite food), gojo's antics, your 1v1 sparring session tallies (currently at 13-8, you in the lead), or the way yaga-sensei seemed to have a never ending collection of glasses. he was funny, really funny, and though he condemned gojo for his never ending unseriousness, these parts shined through geto himself as well. he wasn't a stranger to pranks, sometimes hiding fake bugs on your desk or even that one time where he replaced your favorite pair of shoes with an exact copy that was just one size smaller.

however, on days that hit a little harder, you'd head over to his dorm and sprawl out on his bed as he sat on the floor next to you. on these nights, geto would open up about his fears that gojo was pulling away from him, and you'd talk about the way you felt like the better you performed the better you were expected to do. neither of you really knew what to say to fix things, as you were just two almost-adults thrown into dangerous situations nearly everyday. what else could either of you do except listen? you'd remain on the bed and he'd stay seated on the floor, gazing up at you as you spoke about whatever was worrying you.

it was hard to keep your eyes off of him, as his silky black hair seemed to perfectly flow down the smoothness of his face and neck. sometimes, the two of you would make brief eye contact and then quickly look away, geto awkwardly chuckling to himself as you felt heat crawl up your neck, quickly changing the subject to something stupid, pointing out how the cracks on geto's ceiling resembled a cat if you squinted.

these nights would end once you let out a particularly loud yawn, rolling off his bed and finding your footing as you'd offer a hand to help him up. once at his door, you'd smile at each other, geto oftentimes laughing at the way your clothes would get all wrinkled after lying down on his comforter. you'd exchange goodbyes and leave his room, and that was pretty much it.

therefore, you two were not quite friends but also not quite lovers. stuck somewhere at an awkward in-between.

it was impossible for shoko to miss the way geto would automatically guide you through a busy crowd, steering you with one hand oh so close to your waist. she never missed how you would always grab a few extra napkins for him before heading to the lunch table, just in case he had forgotten to take some with his tray.

gojo, despite his silly exterior, was nonetheless extremely observant, often sharing knowing looks with shoko as the four of you walked from class to class. his jokes slowly started to incorporate you and geto, laughing loudly at you two arguing over which water was yours and which was his, leading to him declaring that you "sounded like an old married couple." you and geto simply stared at him in silence, eyes widening as a smile twitched at the edge of geto's mouth.

neither of you made a move for something more. it might've been fear of unreciprocated feelings, the idea that being a curse user was already a risky job, or just unwillingness to confront each other. whatever it was, this "in-between" became something of a home for the two of you, where you resided not-so comfortably but still content.

"suguru, i think there's one hiding behind that column," you murmur into his ear, not wanting to alert it.

"i think so, too. i see a trail of cursed energy heading that way. you want to come with me or check out the rest of this mall?" he responds, not taking his eyes off of the corner of the first floor, which was harboring an excess amount of cursed energy. you don't miss the way he subtly shifts to stand in front of you, putting another layer of protection between you and the curse (not that you need it, anyway, but the action still makes something flutter in your stomach).

"what, don't think you can fight it alone?" you smirk. "need my help?"

geto squints at you briefly. "i'll meet you on the second floor. be careful," he responds, lightly calling attention to his last statement as he softly adds your name at the end, making sure you hear him.

it's not that he thinks you aren't capable. quite the opposite, actually. every day you only amaze him more and more with your abilities. he's certainly no stranger to ending up on the ground underneath you after sparring sessions, quickly claiming your victory. however, he knows that things can always go wrong, which is why he usually feels more comfortable staying with you during missions like these. nevertheless, you both want to get out of there as fast as possible, with the promise of lunch waiting. and not that either of you would admit it, but something is seriously weird about this mall. curse users were in no way unfamiliar with abandoned locations, but it was hard to say that they'd ever get truly comfortable with it.

"yeah, you too," you whisper-command back before heading to the second floor.

walking up a broken escalator, you couldn't help but let your thoughts wander just a little. at the way geto seemed to keep you in his sight at all times. at the way you guys worked so well together. but what about outside of the battlefield? outside of curses? geto, the ever so amazing friend, what would he be like in a romantic relationship?

you imagine what it would be like to wake up next to him. his arm thrown lightly over your waist, pulling you closer into him. his breath softly falling on your neck as he unconsciously pushes his head further into your shoulder and tightens his grip on you. you'd turn around, looking at his sleeping figure, mesmerized by how someone could be so utterly beautiful even while resting. you'd play with his hair, woven into a loose braid (which you've commanded him to do, noting that protective hairstyles were necessary to keep hair healthy. and by god, did you need his gorgeous hair to stay healthy).

you're thrown out of your daydreaming, zoning in on a specific section of the second floor where you hear quiet clanging coming from. heading closer, you prepare for combat, completely unaware of the curse approaching you from behind.

just as you're about to blast the boxes where the noise came from, you're grabbed and thrown against the wall as the curse attacks.

"fuck," you groan, mentally noting to pick up a few ice packs on the way back to campus.

scrambling to your feet, you begin landing punch after punch on the curse, who you've mentally assessed to be much higher than the grade 2 curses you and geto were originally sent to defeat.

the lights overhead buzz like dying flies — a cold, flickering strobe across cracked tile and broken storefronts. the abandoned mall breathes like a tomb, empty and echoing. you now notice more than ever that everything here is faded: the rusted escalators, the torn banners, the blood — no, your blood — smeared across the shattered floor.

the curse itself is massive. eight grotesque eyes that glow like those of wolves in a quiet forest, waiting to kill. it lunges to meet you, faster than it should be. claws rip through the air. you duck, barely. you roll over a patch of broken glass, cursing out loud as you feel the shards tear into your skin, drawing blood.

you twist, charge up, and launch a heavy strike at its body, slamming it into its side. the curse shrieks in pain, but still isn't dead.

"you can do this," you murmur, hyping yourself up in the face of this utterly terrifying monster.

the next few minutes are almost too fast to describe. you get thrown into stacks of shopping carts. you rip off the curse's arm. you choke on blood, no doubt yours. the curse contorts in pain. it grabs you by the neck. your vision blurs. yet, you push on.

you land one final blow, and you swear all you see is white. hot, blinding white. then nothing.

when the dust settles, the curse is gone.

"well, would you look at that," you smirk, proud of yourself.

then you stumble. and you stumble once more.

you collapse to the floor, falling to your knees in pain. you hunch over, using your palms to keep you up from crumpling completely. you allow yourself to sit flat on your butt, grimacing at the pain shooting up your body. you lean back against a toppled vending machine, using it as support.

"holy shit," you hear near the broken escalator. weakly, you turn your head at the source of the voice.

you see geto, just as handsome as earlier. his eyes sweep the area, noticing the collapsed pillar, the smoldering remains of a curse, the dust still settling.

then his eyes find you.

he doesn't waste a single moment before sprinting over, kneeling in front of you and grabbing you by the shoulders.

"what the fuck?" geto chants your name over and over, eyes scanning over your body. despite the situation, you can't help but feel yet another flutter in your stomach under his gaze.

"suguru," you mutter, unable to even pinpoint the source of your pain as it was coming from all directions.

"what the fuck happened? you were supposed to just scan the second floor. that's it," geto says sharply, unable to mask his concern.

he cups your face, firm enough to force you to look at him, but gentle enough so as to not hurt you.

"answer me," he pleads.

"was just looking. heard a sound in the corner. went to inspect, but it was a trap. got attacked from behind. killed it, if you couldn't tell. a 'great job' or 'wow, you're so amazing' would be nice," you muse, weakly smiling.

geto's mouth twists like he's trying to be mad, but you still see a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "you could've died."

"'m still here. what happened downstairs?"

"you could've," he scolds. he brushes glass shards from your forehead, fingers lingering near your temple. "it was a trap. nothing there. i was confused at first, kept inspecting 'till i realized the real problem was upstairs. came as fast as i could," he huffs out. you hum in response, too tired to say anything.

“i should’ve gotten up here faster,” he continues. he's moving his hands all over your body now, assessing the extent of your injuries.

“you were fighting, too.”

“i still should’ve—” he cuts himself off, then just exhales, tired and grateful and furious all at once. “i hate this.”

“hate what?”

“this.” he stares into your eyes. “when you scare me like that. when i don’t know if i'm gonna find you bleeding out or not breathing.”

“i'm still breathing,” you reply.

"doesn't matter."

"okay, ouch?"

geto's gaze drops down a little. you watch him, unsure if he's looking at the blood trickling down the side of your face or your lips. you hope it's the latter.

"...suguru?" you hesitate to ask, unsure if you even want to know the answer.

he doesn't respond at first. then, after a moment quietly asks, "can i kiss you now?" you don't miss the pleading look in his eyes.

"please," you beg softly.

silence fills the air once again. full of things unsaid. full of all the almosts you've carried over the years. you've both been in this situation before. not here, as in the mall, but here, as in moments like these, toeing the line of something more than friendship.

geto leans in—slow, cautious. merely a few inches away now, you close the gap, jumping over that in-between the two of you have become comfortable with. and then finally, the kiss—

it's soft, tentative — more breath than pressure at first. your lips brush once, hesitate, then press again with more weight. a little hungrier. a little more desperate. you slide up your hand to tangle in his hair, lightly brushing your nails against his scalp. he groans against your mouth.

years of restraint melt into those few seconds. the quiet longing. the stolen glances. the closeness disguised as casual friendship. all of it, folded into this one kiss.

you don't know how much time has passed when you pull away. a few seconds, minutes maybe. all you can think about is how soft geto's lips are. how they seem to mold perfectly with yours.

at first, geto looks at you with wonder in his eyes, silently questioning how someone as beautiful and smart as you could ever fall for someone as complicated as him.

then, geto leans his forehead against yours and sighs heavily. "scared the shit out of me, you know."

"what else am i here for?" you smile, leaning your head back against the vending machine again. you reach up with your right hand to cup his face. you swear geto pushes his cheek deeper into your hand.

[mymoongirlreadings]

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ Solar Return Chart: Signs in Each House ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

Each year on our birthday, we have a new Solar Return chart for the year ahead. The Solar Return chart will let you know what can happen this year, themes of the year & how we are likely to experience in each area of life as well. This post is describing how each sign will influence that specific area of life (aka house) depending on what your new houses will be this year.

♈️ Your Aries house is we are experiencing new, profound, & powerful experiences. Where we end up arguing or fighting with ourselves about this subject within us. Where the inner battle lies. The subject we are arguing with others about or where we are defending ourselves because it’s a sensitive topic. Where we feel alone, figure out & do things alone. One of the most significant and powerful areas of life that influence years to come 

♉️ Your Taurus house is where we can expect steady routines (even if there is a lot of change or something like Uranus in that house). The situations that play out in this area of life are where we can still feel periods of grounded peace, energy, and relaxation. Sometimes it can be where we feel stuck. It’s where money, stability, comfort, and different forms of consistency can be found and offered to us this year. 

♊️ Your Gemini house is where we have new ideas, we are switching up the flow, and we are gaining knowledge & intelligence. Where we are trying new things, the subject(s) we end up talking a lot about 

♋️ Your Cancer house is an area of life that will represent the things or people that will be of comfort for us this year. It can be the area of life where we experience a lot of nostalgia and be a sweet area of our life. It’s the part of our life that makes us the most emotional just entering that area of life throughout the year. We can make major progress in this area of life based off of doing what’s best for us emotionally. This can be how we find a new sense of home this year as well.

♌️ Your Leo house is where your your soul is asking & defining your heart’s desire, the area of life you are called to be courageous in & where you deserve to feel happy. This area brings us a lot of joy, it likely is where we get creative again & start feeling confident, we get willpower from the vitality we experience by pouring into this area. 

♍️ Your Virgo house is where we start to want to organize & keep track of things, what we’re likely to make lists about, research, weigh options, and put some effort & work into in order to improve.  

♎️ Your Libra house is where the outlets of peace, joy, & happiness are found, where we tend to feel more social, where we see, feel, & get inspired by the beauty. Where little things appear that make us happy, where we feel like our personal vision of success is coming to fruition 

♏️ Your Scorpio house is where where we face our fears & break free in a powerful way in order to align with what we truly desire. Where we get jealousy & judgments from other people, a powerful upgrade nonetheless, this area of life changes us forever, a pivotal area of life. We get really intimate with what we want, where we make a way out of no way to end up in a powerful position. 

♐️ Your Sagittarius house is where miracles appear, where our faith could be tested, and we receive unexpected blessings despite how the journey looks in our experiences this year. Renewed faith, where we will feel like we’re wandering. The area of life we may be consciously trying to manifest positive abundance in, renewed experiences. The area of life we are reflecting on & looking back on past experiences, where we are currently at & wondering what the future holds & our wishes for the future. Where faith & belief in better days in this area is sometimes all we have. Where we will be asked to look at things from a different perspective that can heal, open new doors, & give us epiphanies that reveal higher perspective truths

♑️ Your Capricorn house is where there seems to be blockages to push through. The area of life where we can feel on top of the world at some points & rock bottom at others. The area of life we are asked to take into our own hands & control. Where we see important & remarkable progress always, even against potential challenges 

♒️ Your Aquarius house is where unexpected circumstances that progress you forward, where it might feel like we take 2 steps forward, a step back, then 4 steps forward—this area of life is not being experienced linearly. The area of life where we experience intense epiphanies and breakthroughs and where we are ready to change and to experience breaking free from old patterns. Where we want to step into more authenticity & where things can happen non-traditionally 

♓️ Your Pisces house is where there are a lot of potent manifestations that have the ability to come to fruition and the closing of old cycles & lots of full circle moments. We may revisit people, places, topics, & ways of operating from the past, & this area of life can feel extraordinary this year. We may do creative things here, and it can be an area of life that allows for us to cathartically release & rejuvenate. 

[sniktbaby]

something you could sin for

summary: logan is your dad's best friend. both of you struggle to come to terms with your growing feelings for each other.

warnings: angst, dad's best friend, a hint of jealousy-based misogyny, age gap (reader is in her late 20s!), size difference, some dirty talk, size kink (logan has a huge d), smidge of praise, pet names (baby, princess, darling), shower sex, oral sex (f + m receiving), pain kink if you squint, riding, clitplay, creampie, lots of religious terms (idk man), cliffhanger ending maybe???

word count: 6.6k

author's note: yeehaw cowboy logan!!! i had such a fun time writing this one! i might do a sequel to this if you guys like it! title is from midnight cowboy by jade <3

It is your birthday. Logan, your dad’s best friend, stands by the barbeque, chatting it up with your dad. He steals glances at you, hoping you don’t notice his gaze underneath his signature cowboy hat and dark aviators.

He really has been making an effort not to look. Trying not to notice the baby blue dress you’re wearing, the way it cinches at your waist. How the thin fabric flows over your hips. And he definitely didn’t catch sight of you bending down to pet his dog, your breasts barely contained by the cups of the dress, revealing that you’re not wearing a bra.

No, he didn’t notice that at all.

Fuck. What is he thinking? You’re his best friend’s daughter, for Christ’s sake! He even brought a date, some little redhead he picked up at the bar, just so he’d have an excuse to stay away from you.

But the truth is, the second he saw you - barefoot in the grass in that damn dress, laughing with your friends while you posed in front of the balloon wall - he couldn’t even remember the redhead’s name. He didn’t want to remember, checked out of that whole idea.

The sun is setting now. Logan goes to help your dad with getting a bonfire started as you sit on the porch, a slice of cake balanced on a paper plate in your lap. The redhead Logan brought stands so close to him, hanging off his every word, and it makes your muscles tense. You’re so distracted, watching this woman laugh at Logan’s dumb jokes, that you don’t notice Addy, Logan’s dog, sprinting up to you. Before you have time to react, you’re absolutely covered in vanilla cake and strawberry frosting.

Logan looks over, noticing the commotion. He can see your cheeks flush and your eyes water as you stand there, smothered in cake. He knows you would never be mad at Addy over an accident. You’re too understanding, as sweet as the dessert smeared all over your pretty dress. You’re crushed because the redhead beside him is pointing at you, laughing.

You’re embarrassed, humiliated, and his little date isn’t helping. His jaw clenches as he watches you hurry inside the house.

“Shit. Logan, go check on her, will ya?”

Logan turns toward your dad, who is still occupied with getting the fire just the way he wants it. A stubborn perfectionist. You inherited that from him.

But Logan can’t go after you. He can barely be alone with you these days, much less when you’re upset. He’ll just want to hold you, stroke your hair, tell you the truth about how he feels. He can’t do that. “Why me?” he asks, taking a step to the side as the redhead goes to lock arms with him.

Your dad chuckles, breaking a branch over his knee. “You’ve always been better at cheerin’ her up when she’s like this.”

He’s not wrong. With a sigh, Logan nods, then makes his way towards the house.

You disappear inside. Honestly, Addy did you a favor. You needed a moment to yourself, to clear your head. Get Logan out of it.

You were already jealous that he brought another woman. Then you think of her laughing face when Addy knocked the slice of cake against you. And now you’re so fucking humiliated, it stings your skin. Sure, it was funny, but her pointing finger and high-pitched giggle felt like malice. She already has the man you want, she has to laugh at you too?

Ugh. You can’t keep pretending like your feelings for Logan aren’t bigger than a silly childhood crush.

You retreat to your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your bed as you take a couple of deep breaths. You look down at the cake staining your dress, frosting smeared on your chest. It’s even in your hair.

You sigh. You need to calm down before going back out there.

Logan follows you through the house. This was a bad idea. He knows he shouldn’t have come after you. He should have stayed outside with the others, kept his hands clean of anything that doesn’t involve whiskey or cigars. But seeing you walk away, knowing you’re upset…

He’s here now, standing outside of your goddamn door.

He clears his throat, making you look up. You’re surprised to see him, his arms crossed tight over his chest, the fabric of his t-shirt pulled taut over his muscles.

He lifts his chin at you. “You okay?”

Your lips lift. “Fine,” you reply, lowering your gaze. You pick at a piece of cake stuck to your thigh. “Guess Addy was mad I didn’t cut her a slice.”

He lets out a rough chuckle as he pushes off the doorframe. Your joke lands soft and he hates that he put that tremble in your voice. He folds his arms tighter across his chest like it’ll somehow hold everything in - his control, his guilt, the goddamn animal inside him that perks up every time you look at him, like he’s worth something.

You look at him like you know him. Like you can see past the claws and the scars and the rage that lives under his skin. You look at him like you want all of him, even if it’s broken, even if it might hurt you.

And that scares the hell out of him.

You search his face. He looks troubled, like there’s something brewing beneath the surface if you could only pull it out of him. “You could’ve given me the heads up that you were bringing someone,” you murmur, shrugging your shoulders, feigning nonchalance though your fingers twist anxiously in your lap. “I mean…it’s your life, right? You can bring whoever you want. The guy I’m seeing was gonna come, but…”

A lie. You swallow hard, forcing a bitter smile.

His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring slightly. “You’re lyin’.” A slow exhale, one of his hands coming up to rub the back of his neck, knuckles brushing against the collar of his shirt. His dog tags shift under the cotton. He takes a step closer, drawn to you like a moth to flame.

You stiffen at his accusation, lips parting in surprise before pressing into a tight line. Your gaze drops to the floor. “You think I’m lying?” Your voice is quieter now, but still laced with defiance. You raise your chin, meeting his eyes again.

He takes another step, close enough now that he could reach out and touch you. Wipe the frosting from your skin. Taste it. Taste you.

Instead, he braces a hand on the bedpost beside your head, caging you in without laying a finger on you. “Think you’re lyin’ ‘bout the guy.” He tilts his head, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours. “Doubt he exists. Doubt anyone else gets that look from you.”

Your breath hitches, caught somewhere between fear and desire. He’s standing so close - too close - but he still hasn’t touched you. He’s choosing restraint, control. Something you don’t want from him. But you refuse to give in first.

You angle your head away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Stubborn girl. You always have been. You were always one to bite your lip bloody before admitting you were hurt.

Logan smirks, reaching up to tug off his hat. Without breaking eye contact, he settles it atop your head. It dips low over your brow, too big for you, shadowing your face just enough to make you raise your chin towards him. His thumb brushes the shell of your ear before pulling away completely, letting you feel his absence now that you’ve tasted his touch.

“Sure you don’t,” he murmurs, voice thick with amusement and something darker.

The weight of his hat feels heavier than it should. Your fingers twitch at your sides, itching to touch him, to tear that fabric off of him until there’s no space left between you. Your heart pounds wildly beneath your ribs, hopeful and terrified all at once. Your breaths are coming fast, shallow, like you’re scared one wrong move will end whatever the hell is happening between you.

Your voice cracks when you speak. “You shouldn’t be in here, Logan.”

You’re right. He shouldn’t be in here. The curtains are drawn, the whole damn world waiting outside for them. None of them know how close he is to crossing a line he can’t come back from.

But he doesn’t move.

Your eyes. The way you look at him with desperation. Hunger. It mirrors something dark and restless in him. Something that has been clawing at his ribs for years, begging him to stop running. Stop hiding behind rules and regrets.

He shifts, just enough to close the distance between you. His knee presses into the mattress beside your thigh. His movements are slow, careful, wanting you to feel what you should know by now.

That he wants you.

Your breath catches, your thighs squeezing together. A million thoughts race through your head. You should tell him that this isn’t right. That he’s too old, too forbidden, too connected to your family to ever truly belong to you.

But instead, you lean into him, your chest rising and falling faster now. Your voice is barely above a whisper. “Logan…” Your fingers curl into the fabric beneath you, fighting the urge to pull him closer. To kiss him.

Your voice, his name on your lips - it sounds like a prayer. A surrender. A warning.

He shouldn’t. He really fucking shouldn’t.

But you leaned in. That tiny, traitorous shift of your body towards his - that was all it took. The last thread snaps. No more lies. No more pretending he doesn’t want you like this. Like he hasn’t wanted you for years. He cups your face before he loses his nerve, rough palm cradling your jaw like you’re both delicate and dangerous - which you are.

“Shouldn’t…” he mutters, thumb grazing your bottom lip, feeling you tremble underneath it, “...but I was never very good at doin’ what I should.”

And then he kisses you. Hard.

The kiss steals the air from your lungs, hot and demanding and utterly consuming. You go rigid beneath his touch, stunned that this is happening - that he is kissing you, claiming your mouth like he owns every secret you’ve whispered in the dark.

And then you push him away, roughly, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

The loss of your warmth hits him like a punch to the gut. He staggers back, blinking rapidly as if just waking up from a dream where he got to pretend he deserved to touch you like that.

Shit.

He rakes a shaky hand through his hair, teeth gritted against the self-loathing crawling up his spine. He came in here to check on you, to play it cool, and instead he kissed you like he had some sort of claim. Like he wasn’t supposed to be the responsible one.

“I-” He stops. Can’t even finish his sentence. He doesn’t know what the hell to say.

You bring a trembling hand to your lips, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin like you’re trying to memorize the feel of his kiss. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, uneven breaths escaping your parted lips. Your eyes well up, but you blink furiously to fight it back. Not here. Not in front of him. “No…” Your voice breaks on the word, and you shake your head violently. The cowboy hat slips sideways and you snatch it off, tossing it onto the bed like it burned you. “You don’t get to do that.”

The hat hitting the sheets feels like a slap to his cheek. You’re crying. Trying not to, stubborn girl, but he can see it. Smell it. That salt in the air - sharp and painful, like blood. And it’s his fault.

He exhales, eyes fixed on the floor between you like he’s staring into the grave of every rule he swore he wouldn’t break. “No…” He swallows hard, fists clenching at his sides.

You stand abruptly, the mattress creaking softly beneath you. The wood floor is cold on your bare feet, grounding you, reminding you who you are - who he is. You wrap your arms tightly around yourself. “I’m going for a shower.” You turn, heading for the bathroom connected to your bedroom.

He watches you, muscles coiled tight like he expects you to vanish the second you’re out of his sight. But when you start to close the bathroom door, something inside of him snaps for the second time tonight.

No. Not after that kiss. Not after years of watching you grow up, laughing when he picked you up after your first night of drinking because you were too scared to call home. Hurting when you cried over boys who never deserved you, little pricks. Loving you in ways he buried so deep he convinced himself he could live with this ache.

He pushes the door open before you can close it completely, his actions gentle but firm. Letting you know he’s in this. Letting you decide if you want to throw him out. He’ll leave if you tell him to.

You freeze. Your back to him, shoulders rising with each breath. You ignore him, moving to the faucet to turn on the water. Steam begins to rise as the water heats, fogging up the room. Then you turn to face him. “Logan…” Your voice wavers, partly a plea, a little bit of a warning.

The door clicks shut behind him and he takes a step towards you, close enough now that his heat licks at your skin like the thoughts tear through his skull. You’re trembling, shakes that tell him you’re barely holding on. Just like him.

He doesn’t respond. Words failed him the moment your mouths met.

Slowly, he reaches for you and brushes your hair over one shoulder. You turn away from him again, but he doesn’t falter. He takes in the curve of your spine beneath your dress, vertebrae pressing against fabric like the keys of a piano - each one a note he wants to play until you make music.

His knuckles graze your neck as he finds the zipper of your dress, his touch a promise, maybe a threat.

You can still stop him. You should stop him.

The sensation of his knuckles against your neck sends a jolt down your spine, electric and terrifying. Your eyelids flutter shut, your breath catching in your throat as goosebumps erupt across your skin despite the warmth from the steam. You stand there, immobilized by the suffocating haze of want and guilt until a shaky whimper escapes your lips. You reach out, your nails digging into the porcelain of the sink, your entire body taut like a bowstring pulled to its limit. “Please…”

That whimper nearly undoes him. You don’t tell him to get lost. Didn’t slam that door in his face like he wished you would’ve every goddamn day since you stopped being a girl and started walking through the world like a storm he couldn’t outrun.

So he takes his time, moving slow. Fingertips taking a hold of the zipper, he peels it down like he’s unveiling something sacred. Inch by inch, the curve of your back is exposed. His chest presses lightly against you, solid and impossibly warm.

You feel him - the breadth of his shoulders, the tension humming in his muscles, the heavy beat of his heart echoing your own. Your knees threaten to buckle. Your head drops forward, chin brushing your collarbone as a soft, strangled gasp slips free.

His touch feels safe, like coming home.

But you’ve been starved of this for far too long. You don’t want to be safe. You want him.

“Don’t…treat me like I’m made of glass.” You shift back, just a fraction - an invitation. A challenge. You want him to handle you like you’re real, not some memory wrapped in lace and nostalgia. Want him to stop tiptoeing around what you both know is real.

You want him to stop acting like he’s scared.

He tightens his grip on your hip, breath skating along the shell of your ear. “Patience, darlin’.” He murmurs it like a sin, his thumb hooking just beneath the loosened strap of your dress, teasing it down your shoulder. Slow. Deliberate. Driving you both insane.

He peels the dress from your shoulders, gentle, like he’s unwrapping a gift he never thought he’d be allowed to open. Fabric bunches at your elbows, the straps sliding down your arms, then pooling at your waist before he lets it fall entirely.

He drags his palms down your sides, feeling every tremor, every hitch of your breath against his chest. You’re so small in his hands. So soft. So damn perfect. He presses his mouth to your neck.

But you pull away and turn around, taking a moment to soak in the way his pupils dilate at the sight of your bare breasts. Slowly, not breaking eye contact, you pull off your panties, leaving you completely nude before him. He reaches out to touch you, but you don’t let him.

You pull back the shower curtain, stepping under the hot water. The shower douses your back as you watch him peel off his shirt and strip out of his jeans. You hold his gaze, fighting the urge to lower your eyes to the large tent in his boxers.

You don’t have a choice but to look when he steps out of the fabric. God, every single part of him is just so fucking big.

Logan watches the way the water drips from your hair, runs in rivulets down your collarbone, your breasts - perfect, full, begging for his mouth. You’re watching him like you expect him to hesitate. Like you think he won’t follow through.

He doesn’t give you time to second guess. Doesn’t give himself time either. He steps into the spray, steam swallowing you both, hot water scalding his back like penance.

Driving you back against the tile, hands braced on either side of you, he cages you in. Trapping you with him in this moment, this madness. “You sure?”

All you can do is nod, and he pushes you against the wall. Your head tips back as you close your eyes, a gasp escaping your lips as he bends, his mouth covering your nipple.

You taste like heaven and sin all wrapped into one. Your nipple hardens against his tongue, and he groans, the sound swallowed by the rushing water. You arch into him, offering yourself like an answer to a prayer he never knew how to say.

One hand finds your hip, anchoring you as he feasts on you, his mouth greedy and punishing. You’re soft everywhere he’s rough. It makes him want to mark you. Claim every inch of your skin until there’s no doubt in your mind who you belong to.

But you don’t belong to him, and you’re not his. Not really. Not in any way that matters beyond this steam-filled prison you’ve built together.

You laugh suddenly, bringing him out of his thoughts. You’re thinking about all the times you imagined this moment. Rutting against your pillow, soaking through the fabric, whispering his name into the mattress…

“What’s so funny, darlin’?” he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses upwards, to the hollow of your throat. His fingers flex on your hip, urging you to open your eyes, to look at him. Steam swirls around your bodies, the water pounding down like judgement.

He signed his soul over to the Devil the second he walked into this bathroom.

You respond to his question by grabbing his face and bringing him closer. “Nothing.” Before he can probe further, you kiss him. You lick into his mouth and wrap your arms around him, holding him tight against you as the warm water blankets your bodies. You never take your hands off of him as he kisses down your neck again, trailing down to your belly.

You kiss him like you’re starved for it. Starved for him. Tongue sliding against his, soft and wet and desperate. He groans into your mouth, hands tightening on your waist as he deepens the kiss. He feels you melt against him, eager, finally in his arms where you belong.

Then you’re pulling him down - hands in his hair, guiding him lower, arching into his touch as he trails kisses down your throat, between your breasts, over the plane of your belly. Water slicks your skin, making you shine in the dim bathroom light. You shiver as his stubble scrapes against the sensitive skin of your stomach, sending sparks straight between your legs.

You get the urge to ask him something. Your voice comes out breathless and thick with longing. “What would you have done-” He bites you, causing you to gasp. “-if I had brought another guy?”

The unexpected question hits him like a blade between the ribs. If you’d brought someone else. If he had walked in tonight and seen you wrapped around another man - laughing, touching, kissing.

Jealousy roars in his veins, loud and primal. His grip on you tightens, almost bruising. Intentional. He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes, steam and lust warping the space between you. His voice is gravel and venom and something dangerously close to confession.

“Broke him in half.” He drags the words out, letting them simmer in the heat between you.

That isn’t enough for you. “Sooo…” You lift a brow, aware you’re being a brat. “...you don’t like the idea of me fucking other men?”

A growl rumbles from his chest. He stands to his full height, bracing his forearm against the tile beside your head, leaning in until his breath ghosts over your lips. Close enough to kiss. Close enough to choke. “Not a fan, no.” He smirks, but there’s no humour in it. His thumb drags slowly across your bottom lip.

His words awaken something in you, an animalistic ache that you didn’t know existed. You roll your hips forward, feeling his hard length press against your thigh. “Well then…” You bite down on your lip, lashes fluttering as you look up at him. “Start getting more possessive and I won’t have to.”

Your hands find purchase on his strong biceps. “Tell me I’m your girl.”

The words wrap around his throat like chains. Sweet, deadly chains.

Tell me I’m your girl.

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, slamming them against the wet tile and holding you there like a warning. Like a vow.

“What the hell do you think you’re doin’, huh?” He grinds the words out through clenched teeth.

Maybe you pushed too far. “Trying to make you jealous,” you admit. You kiss him, deep and strong, covering his mouth like it’s your last meal. “Is it working?”

The kiss hits him like a bullet to the chest - fast and lethal. You’re not playing fair, and he’s had enough of this game. Enough of you testing him, pushing him, making him say things he can’t take back.

He releases your wrists and shoves his hands into your wet hair, gripping tight as he angles your head back, breaking the kiss. Your throat arches beautifully, vulnerable and open, and he growls against your skin. “Smartass.” He mutters it like a curse before he drops to his knees in the slippery tub, taking your thighs in his hands and hauling you against him. Roughly, Logan yanks your hips towards his mouth. His tongue glides up your pussy over and over again, each swipe ending in a nibble.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, groaning, gasping for air. His lips are relentless, tugging on your clit and making you shudder. You don’t care who can hear you. You lift your leg, placing a foot on the edge of the tub behind him, fisting his hair with one hand and reaching up, gripping the windowsill behind you with another.

Logan devours you. You taste like honey and sin, like every wicked thought he’s ever had about you curled into one addictive flavour he can’t get enough of. His tongue drags deep and slow - marking you in the way only he can. He groans around your clit, the vibration making you jerk against his mouth.

“Ride my face, princess,” he rasps against your soaked cunt, his voice rough, one of his hands digging into your ass to keep you grounded. You want to be heard? Want the whole damn world to know who has you screaming? Fine.

He bites you, and your head pushes back against the wall, overcome with ecstasy. You roll your hips, thrusting into his mouth. He kisses and tugs, sucking on your inner thighs and swirling his tongue over your slit. He’s messy, his saliva mixing with your slick until your pussy is dripping.

“Fuck.” You’re trembling. You grind against his mouth faster. “More, Logan.”

More. Goddamn, you’re shameless when you want to be. Voice raw, hips grinding like you were born to chase this kind of pleasure. And he’s the bastard feeding it to you.

He bites down again, just hard enough to make you squeal, then he soothes it with his tongue, dragging slow circles around your clit while his fingers dig into your ass cheeks, spreading you wider. He wants every drop of you. Your juices coat his beard, slick and sweet, and he growls against you. “Greedy girl,” he mutters, lips brushing your clit with every word.

He takes your ass in both hands, diving inside of you with his tongue. You cry out, gripping his hair so tight you hear him hiss in pain. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. Not for a second.

Heat fills your stomach, and you throb as his tongue thrusts in and out you. You peer down, taking in the view, and you notice one of his hands has left your ass to tug on his own cock. The sight makes you feel dizzy.

He can’t get enough of your soaked cunt - dripping, pulsing, perfect. His tongue dives deep, chasing every ripple of your walls clenching around nothing. You taste too good. It feels too right. He hauls you harder against his mouth, growling as you grip his hair like reins, like you’re riding him to ruin. Good. You can use him. Take whatever you need.

He looks up at you, jerking himself slow and rough, thumb rubbing the slit as he pictures burying every inch of his cock inside of your tight heat. Stretching you wide. Making you take all of him until there’s no mistaking who owns that sweet, greedy pussy.

Every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire, your body aching to come. “You wanna fuck me?” you ask him breathlessly, your eyes locked on to the way he pulls on himself.

The words hit him like a match to gasoline. Fuck yeah, he wants to fuck you. Has for years. Every damn day he told himself no, every night he lied awake wishing he could say yes.

He pulls back just enough to sit, brute force dragging him down to the slick porcelain floor. Legs splayed, dick jutting up hard and ready, beads of pre-come glistening in the bathroom light. He braces his arms behind him, holding himself steady for what he knows is coming.

His voice is like sandpaper when he answers. “Climb on, darlin’.” He tilts his chin up, eyes locking on yours. He reaches out, pulling you down on top of him.

Logan’s large frame in the tiny bathtub makes you want to laugh, and you almost do, but then he rolls his cock against your slit. You gasp. That’s one way to shut you up.

Logan lets out a low chuckle, his large hands traveling over your body. He lets you grind down slowly until you’re panting and clutching at his shoulders. He braces one hand on the small of your back, the other gripping your thigh, guiding your movements. Dominant because he knows that’s what you want. What you need.

“Easy, princess,” he murmurs against your neck, lips grazing damp skin as you writhe against him. “I’ve got ya.”

He doesn’t know if he can hold back much longer. You’re slick, swollen, rocking against him like you’re trying to set yourself on fire - and him with you.

Leaning down, you kiss and lick a path down his chest, his stomach. You nibble the prominent vein leading down to his length, wanting to take your time with him the same way he did with you. Prove to him that you know patience too.

You lower your mouth on his tip, taking him down your throat and giving him something to watch. Your mouth wraps around him like velvet, tight and wet and way too fucking good. He fists one hand in your hair - holding on, feeling you, reminding himself that this is real.

You take him deep, slow, teasing - like you’re trying to prove a point. Taunting him with that pretty mouth, showing him that you can be cruel and kind all at once. He watches you - every damn second of it. Lips stretched around his length, cheeks hollowing, eyes fluttering shut like you’re savouring him. You own him right now. His body, mind, and soul - it all belongs to you. “Damn, baby…”

The way his voice cracks. The plea in his tone. It’s too much.

Fuck patience.

You swing your leg over his hip, straddling him once again, lowering yourself on to him. You hold his cock in your fist as you sink down. The tip dips inside, and your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your body tenses.

The second you sink down on him - slow and agonizing - he sees stars. White-hot and blinding. Your heat wraps around him, tight and perfect, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut too, suck in a breath through his nose, and pray to a God he doesn’t believe in that he doesn’t blow apart like some dumb kid getting his first blowjob.

Then he notices you’ve stopped, freezing halfway down, muscles tensed like you’re trying to hold yourself together. He hums, pleased with himself. Brave girl you are. Stubborn too. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking like he just won the lottery.

He shifts his hands to your hips, thumbs pressing into the bone, steadying you. Keeping you still, but he urges you forward. “C’mon, darlin’.”

You start to move, your hips circling at a slow pace. He doesn’t stop caressing you, motivating you. You drop lower, sinking an inch of him inside you, then another. And then you stop again. “Just…give me a second,” you breathe.

You move like you want to torture him. It is driving him absolutely insane, how good you feel wrapped around him. He lets out a harsh breath, eyes rolling back for just a second before snapping back open.

He nods at your request, his voice gruff and strained. “Take your time, princess.” His thumb strokes soothing patterns on your hip, trying to be gentle. For you.

You start to slide up and down, just barely. He’s long, and thick. The stretch burns, it hurts, but you sink further down. The pain is uncomfortable, but bearable.

Logan can feel your heat, your tightness, and you’re so wet - but you’re still fighting through the burn. He braces his hand firmly on your hip, holding you. Anchoring. Letting you feel him, letting you set the pace even though every part of his being wants to flip you over and pound into you until neither one of you can think.

“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice raspy, eyes hooded as he drinks in every reaction, every flinch, every moment of pleasure etched onto your face mixed with the sting.

Your hips shift - just a little - and he feels it. That instinct to move, to chase the rhythm, but you’re not ready yet. Not fully. He can still feel you tensing, fighting through the discomfort like you always do - never backing down, never asking for help.

He tightens his grip on your hip, firm but careful, using just enough pressure to still your movements. His other hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb brushing away a strand of damp hair stuck to your cheek. He tilts your chin down so you have to look at him. “Give yourself a minute, darlin’,” he says, voice rough with restraint but softened by something he’s afraid to name out loud.

You lean down, stretched, a little sore, and filled. He’s inside you all the way. You kiss him, and then you start to move, rolling your hips. Both of you moan at the new sensation.

You settle on him fully and he swears he dies for a second, going to some version of heaven where he actually deserves to touch you like this. Where he doesn’t have to carry every regret, every rule he broke to get here. He deepens the kiss the second he feels you roll your hips - slow and uncertain - and he groans into your mouth, because holy fuck, you feel too good. Too right. It’s too much.

He kisses you harder, ruthlessly, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting just enough to make you gasp. His hands on your hips guide you, lifting you slightly before pulling you back down. “Ride me, baby.”

You moan as his tongue swipes over your bottom lip. “Okay.”

You rut against him. It isn’t long before the discomfort is gone completely, replaced by a throbbing warmth. You slide up and down his length, his cock moving in and out of you easily now. You move like you’ve found religion - hips rolling and taking him deep. Wet, slick sounds fill the cramped bathtub, drowned out only by your ragged breaths and the constant hum of the shower.

He watches you ride him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmurs, thumb pressing into the notch of your hip, guiding your rhythm when you stutter - when you get too greedy, too fast. “So damn good.”

You smile at his praise and lean back, gripping both sides of the tub as your hips roll. You tilt your head back, and you know his eyes are on you. God, you love the feeling of his eyes on your body as you put on a show for him. Water still streams down from the showerhead, droplets catching on your skin, sliding down your collarbone, disappearing into the valley between your breasts. He wants to lick every trace of it off of you.

But he doesn’t move. Just watches, letting you take control. Letting you show him exactly how much you want this - how much you want him.

You grind down faster. The thickness, his tip hitting you deep inside, his thumb finding its way to your swollen clit - it’s all too much, and also the best fucking thing you have ever felt. “Oh…” you groan, bouncing quicker now. You can feel your climax building.

You’re moving like you’re possessed - wild, uninhibited, chasing that edge like he’s not right there with you, praying for mercy. His thumb circles your clit, firm and relentless, matching the frantic pace of your hips. You’re soaked, swollen.

You’re close. So damn close.

And he wants it. Wants to feel you come apart on him. Wants every asshole at that party to wonder where the hell you disappeared to and what the fuck he’s doing to you. His voice is pure sin when he barks out, commanding, “Fuck me harder, baby.”

You grab his hand from your hip. You place the tip of his index finger on your tongue, slowly taking him down to the knuckle. You take his finger like it’s his cock - slow, wet, deep - and he swears he can feel it in his fucking toes. His hips jerk up on instinct, chasing friction, chasing relief he doesn’t deserve yet. Not when you’re still riding him like a damn fever dream.

He lets out a choked whimper - pathetic and desperate - and his free hand leaves your clit to dig into your thigh, like he needs leverage just to survive you. “B-Baby…” he tries to warn you, his voice cracked and breathless. He’s hanging on by a thread.

He’s going to come. You’ll never forget that sound.

It hits him like a freight train, merciless. His back bows off the porcelain, every muscle locking up as he lets himself go.

He comes hard, a groan ripping from his throat like he’s being torn apart from the inside out, your name spilling out like a curse and a prayer all at once. “Baby…fuck…”

You keep moving - relentless little vixen you are - and he lets you, even though he swears he’s going to die from it. He lets you chase your high while he tries to remember how the hell to breathe.

And then you come too. “God! Logan!”

His hands fly to your tits as you shake and shudder above him, your insides bursting with wave after wave of euphoric bliss. Your hips piston against him, jerking harder and faster until your climax begins to fade, and you collapse on top of him.

He holds you against him, his grip tight. You think you can feel him kissing your hair, but the world is still spinning, everything moving too fast to be sure. He’s right there, holding you through every tremor, every gasp, every shattered moan that leaves your lips.

Your breasts are soft and warm, nipples dragging across his chest with every shiver, and he groans, wrapping his arms around your waist. You’re exhausted, spent, and he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world - even though he’s the last man alive who should be allowed to.

He presses his lips to your wet hair, breathing you in, anchoring himself to this moment, even though he knows what comes next. Regrets. Rules. Consequences.

Still panting softly, you lift your head from his chest just enough to meet his gaze. Your cheeks are flushed, your lips parted, and your hair sticks to your skin in damp waves. There’s a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips - one that says you don’t regret a single second of this.

Your smile hits him square in the chest, soft and sleepy and full of something he doesn’t deserve. He wants to kiss you again. Wants to taste that satisfaction on your lips, seal it in like a promise. But he doesn’t move. He can’t. Reality is creeping in now. Outside this bathroom, people are laughing, drinking, wondering what you two are doing. Your dad, his best friend, is out there, slapping backs and pouring drinks, telling stupid stories around the fire, completely clueless that Logan just ruined his trust.

You shift slightly, resting your chin on Logan’s chest so you can look at him better. Your fingers trail lazily over his shoulder, tracing invisible patterns along his skin. “You’re thinking too loud,” you murmur, your voice soft but steady. Your expression doesn’t lose that quiet happiness. With a smirk, you add, “They can wait five more minutes.” You press a lingering kiss to his collarbone before settling back against him, your ear over his heart.

He feels your kiss everywhere - in his ribs, his throat, in the marrow of his bones that have carried shame and guilt for far too long.

You’re right, he is thinking. Thinking about what happens now. About what happens when the water goes cold and you have to step back into a world where he’s supposed to be untouchable. Where you’re supposed to be off-limits.

But you dare him to stay. Dare the world to interrupt.

He exhales slowly, one arm curling tighter around your back. The other drifts absentmindedly through your hair, fingers threading through the strands like he’s done a thousand times in dreams he woke from ashamed.

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice low. “Five more minutes.”

[cynosdaydream]

knight!sylus x royalty!reader sneaking away into the garden to shower each other in affection

ROYAL UNDERCOVER!

When the world gets too loud, your loyal knight will always be there to save you.

Now playing: Moon - The Cab

Word count: 1.4k Author's Note: Here you go! I'm really sorry this took so long to get out, my mid-term exams just finished. This is totally not proof read as I am looking at my computer screen through blurry eyes at 12am, so feel free to dm me if there are any errors. enjoy :) Desc: knight!sylus x royalty!reader, fluff, escaping from royal bums, dancing under the moonlight type shit, nothing much really it's just fun teasing n happy stuff yayy

The atmosphere in the foreign ballroom was suffocating. Noble and royalty alike were dressed to the nines, pearls and jewelry reflecting the light from the enormous chandelier. People were mingling, music was playing, and drinks were flowing.

As lavish and glamorous as this event seemed, you felt overwhelmed. It had been hours, and your head was pounding. You couldn't even remember what the purpose of the event was at this point-- 'something about a King's birthday...?' You thought, trying to recall the details on the piece of parchment that your family had received.

"My lady, are you feeling alright?" A hushed voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and a lock of silvery hair brushed against your ear. Ah, Sylus, your knight. He had been your knight since the both of you were children, so he knew you from the inside out. Your parents tried suggesting a change of your personal knight in the past, or even having an additional knight by your side so you could get familiar with the other guards in the castle. However, you were always quick to shut down the idea, insisting that Sylus was doing his job perfectly. As for the additional knights that your parents tried to implement, they usually lasted a few weeks by your side before they seemed to get scared away by something...

"The air here is suffocating." You breathed, tapping your fingers impatiently on the glass you were holding. You gazed at the contents inside, wondering if you should take a sip, but the sickly sweet scent of the drink quickly demolished that idea. "I wish to leave, but alas, I have to keep up appearances."

Sylus smirks. "How unfortunate." His tone suggests that he has no intention of helping you find a way out, but you knew him better than that. Sylus scans across the room, searching for a way to exit discreetly. After a few beats of silence between the two of you, he spots a door at the corner of the crowded ballroom, and leads you to it wordlessly. He lets you step outside first, and before he exits himself, he looks around, making sure that no one saw you two.

The outdoor air felt deliciously refreshing on your skin. After hours of being cooped up in the ballroom, this was the best thing you could have asked for. The night sky, littered with glittering stars and constellations, was a pleasant change from the glaring and overstimulating crystal ceiling of the castle. You weren't familiar with the layout of the foreign castle, but you could recognize that the place that you were in was the royal gardens. Carefully trimmed bushes and flourishing roses lined the paths, leading to various places.

"Where shall we go, my darling knight?" You inquired, turning to face Sylus. He rolls his eyes at the nickname, but ultimately lists a few options. "There's a flower display with a fountain to our left, and a pond with a gazebo to our right. It's up to you, lady __." You ponder for a moment, and you ended up deciding on the gazebo.

It wasn't a long walk from the castle, but it put enough distance between you and the ballroom to ease your headache from the noise. The once overwhelmingly loud chatter from the ballroom dimmed into a faint hum in the background.

The garden was beautiful, breathtakingly so. A circular pond made up most of the section you had walked into, reflecting the twinkling stars, with a short bridge connecting to the gazebo. Even though there were railings along the bridge, your knight still gingerly took your hand as he guided you across.

Despite the darkness of the night, the warm lanterns hung around the gazebo emitted just enough light for you to see the various lily pads floating on the water and the koi fish swimming underneath. You reached over the railings from where you sat to skim your fingers along the surface of the water, admiring how the light seemed to dance and sway along with your movements.

When you turn around to face Sylus, you find that he is already looking at you.

"Come sit, what are you doing just standing there?" You laugh playfully, clasping his hands in yours to drag him to sit beside you. Smiling gleefully, you say, "Isn't this wonderful? The atmosphere here feels so different from just ten minutes ago. The lighting here also gives me less of a headache then that giant crystal ball they call a chandelier." Sylus nods in agreement, crimson eyes still fixed on you.

You tilt your head, curious about why he wasn't saying anything.

"The lighting from the lanterns makes you look even more beautiful, your grace." He mumbles it quietly, but you still catch it anyway. Sylus looks away, seemingly embarrassed, and you decide to tease him just a little. "What? I didn't quite catch that, my ears are still ringing from the music in the ballroom." You start, cupping your hands around your ears.

He glances back at you, mouth pressed into a thin line. Of course he could tell you were joking, but his ears turned the slightest bit red anyway. Sylus hesitates for a moment before repeating himself louder. "I said, the lighting here enhances your beauty, princess ___." He says gruffly, clearing his throat.

Smiling, you lean on his shoulder and hook your arm around his. "That's good to hear. Thank you, Sylus." He simply nods.

The both of you sit like that in silence for a while, and you were starting to get bored. You didn't know when the party would end, but from the way the silhouettes of the orchestra were still fervently moving, you guessed it wasn't anytime soon. Your eyes darted around the surroundings, before you finally got an idea.

"Sylus, let's dance!" You propose, getting up and tugging him up with you. Your knight quirks an eyebrow at you. "Why the sudden burst of energy?" He asks.

"I'm bored to half-death, and it would be a waste of good music to let this moment slip by!"

"I thought you said that the music was giving you a splitting migraine just now?"

"...whatever. Just get up here and dance with me, please?"

You knew that he wouldn't refuse. He never did.

"Alright, at least let me ask you formally first. It would be rude of me not to." Sylus grins. "Lady ___, would you let me have this dance?"

You nodded enthusiastically, taking his hand in yours and letting him spin you around. The two of you danced for a good while, twirling and prancing around with uncoordinated steps. After all, there were no nobles or royals around to watch you, so all normal dancing etiquette was thrown out of the window. As a knight, Sylus wasn't even supposed to be dancing with you like this, a protective hand on your waist and fingers intertwined with yours.

After what felt like forever, the both of you finally stopped dancing, stamina drained from silly leaps in the air and overly exaggerated twirls. Out of breath, you looked up at Sylus and grinned. Obviously, he wasn't as exhausted as you, but his hair was the perfect balanced between tousled and neat. You threw your arms around his shoulders and smiled into his jacket, suddenly overcome with a wave of appreciation for him.

"Thank you, Sylus. For all of this. It really means a great deal to me." Your voice was muffled. As his arms snake around you, you hear his voice, "No need to thank me, I was only doing my duty as your knight, your gr-"

You cut him off, telling him that it was alright to use your name as it was just the two of you around. And you swore you could hear the proud smirk in his voice as he said, "Alright, ___. I'll do whatever you say." You could feel your face warm up due to Sylus' silky smooth voice, and you suddenly felt oddly flustered.

So you did the first thing that came to mind.

You slipped out of his arms and started running back to the palace, yelling out behind you. "People-- are going to get-- suspicious if we're gone for -- too long!" You shout between breaths, tripping on your precariously long skirt every few seconds.

Even though you could see him pinch his nose bridge and sigh in frustration, it was hard to miss the adoring glint in his eyes as he hurriedly ran to catch up with you.

--

additional a/n: I was GOING to make this angst, but i can't be miserable forever

[dawn-moths]

can’t stop rotating the idea of you being a lingerie model and nanami being the photographer who falls for you around in my brain…

the camera flashes bright, for a moment filling your entire world with an intense, sharp whiteness. but it’s there and then gone again within an instant, once more giving way to the dark wood and pastel backdrops of the photography studio you find yourself in.

“good, but try tilting your head a little more to the left on the next one,” the man behind the camera calmly instructs, adjusting the lens while you fluff your hair and adjust the sheer little babydoll dress that you’re wearing for today’s photoshoot.

of all the beautiful, whimsical, and romantic lingerie you’ve worn in your career, you think this one might be one of your favorites. the lace and silk detailing is so dainty, the garment’s quality so nice, the way the chiffon flows and drifts down the curves of your body both liquid and airy. it’s a pale, baby blue, the panties that match of the same make and color. it’s a beautiful set by one of the up-and-coming independent designers you’ve been dreaming of modeling for, soon to be available to the public, or at least the public’s high-end clientele, and you feel honored that you get to be the face of her newest collection.

the camera shutter clicks again in rapid succession after you readjust to his notes and he murmurs some more words of praise, snapping a few more photos with you in splendid motion before calling for a quick break so he can review some of the shots he'd captured so far.

you saunter off to rejoin your manager off to the side, change into the next look, retouch your hair and makeup, and take a few sips of water before the photographer calls you back to continue.

meanwhile, nanami looks over the first batch of photos, pulling them up onto his laptop so he can see every detail with better clarity, making mental notes of a stray fly-away or an odd shadow that he'll need to retouch in post, but, other than that, you look flawless. even for the cream of the crop top pros of the industry, you stood out.

zooming in a little more on the digital image, nanami flicked his gaze to the small green room off to the side where he could hear you, your manager, and the makeup artist you'd brought along gossiping and giggling about something before turning his full attention back to the version of you currently on his screen.

you really had it all, didn't you? gorgeous face, perfect hair, a beautiful body. and on top of it all you were incredibly photogenic. you were a natural, which made his job easy, all except for the fact that everything that made you so incredible also made you incredibly distracting to him...

he scrolled the photo of you down a little further, following the line of your pretty, diamond-adorned neck to the delicate curve of your collarbones and the plush skin of your breasts, the lingerie beneath the sheer babydoll clinging to your body like a glove. like it had been made custom just for you. he found himself enamored with every detail of you— every freckle, every scar, every little "imperfection" that he'd ultimately have no choice but to edit out before submitting it to the editorial team pulling him in more and more, unable to tear his umber gaze from your body as the image scrolled down to the soft curve of your belly, your thighs, entranced, wondering for a brief moment what your perfumed skin would feel like beneath his fingers, how the sweet, sticky center of you might taste.

he'd be gentle with you, work you up slow, savor every sound you made as he teased you, fantasizing about just how soaked those dainty little panties you were modeling for him would be before he'd even truly began with you. he'd have you shivering beneath him, shallow, panting breaths escaping from your glossy, slightly parted lips, your little whimpers and whines only spurring him on, getting him even harder than he already was. he'd ease you open, warmth and pleasure flooding through the both of you, languid and heady, and then—

"guys, stooooop!" you quietly scolded in a playful tone from the next room over, interrupting nanami's daydream as he heard yet more giggling from you and your team, your hushed conversation and banter floating further into the room as he strained a little to hear what was being said.

"...totally into you..."

"...joking?"

"hon, i've been... industry for seven... i know a... when i see one."

"no way... messing with me, aren't you?"

silence.

nanami had thought he'd done a pretty good job concealing any lingering stares or sultry expressions thus far. he'd "prepared" for your arrival accordingly that morning, hoping to avoid any more obvious giveaways for the few hours he'd have you posed before him wearing close to nothing. you'd think after being in this industry for a decade he'd be immune to the effects that impossibly beautiful women could have on him physically, but you were the exception, it seemed.

he'd photographed you a few years back, actually, at the very start of your career, and he hadn't been able to get you out of his head since. he doubted you remembered him, especially by now, when you were in front of a new photographer a few times each week. but, then again, he'd photographed hundreds of different models over his career, yet still you stood out clear as day among them, burned into his memory more permanently than any image of you in a photo could ever capture in totality.

he'd never openly flirt with you though. no, nanami was far too professional for that. he'd heard too many stories over the years of photographers who'd thought they had the right to get handsy with the models or mistaken their alluring subjects for being prostitutes once the session wrapped instead, offering them empty promises to boost their careers in exchange for a few favors. he'd always looked down on those shameless, seedy types, vowing to never become like any of them, no matter what fantasies he allowed himself to indulge in during or after the shoot concluded and he faced the hours of editing ahead.

although, perhaps if he found a way to ask you out for coffee sometime, figure out what you might have in common, maybe refer you to a few of his most trusted colleagues within the industry for something high-fashion or avant-garde— a detail he'd heard you discussing briefly with your manager when you'd first arrived— aiming to secure a place on a paris fashion week runway this year, it might be a good way to begin a more regular relationship, professional or otherwise.

if he didn't at least try, he'd surely lose you to another photographer with similar connections later down the line, wouldn't he?

"you know i can't..." he heard you say and, disappointed tone be damned, he felt something in him sink, despite not knowing the full context of the conversation. he began to feel guilty over eavesdropping, so he loudly cleared his throat and attempted to turn his focus back to the task at hand.

your manager stuck his head around the corner a few moments later, spiky white hair slightly tousled and his black sunglasses sliding down the narrow bridge of his nose, his sparkling blue eyes on full display. "she'll be out in a minute," he grinned, a sing-song lilt to his already mischievous tone of voice.

nanami gave him a nod and a flicker of a half-smirk before changing out the lens on his camera in preparation for the next set of photos. in the next few minutes he had while waiting, he allowed his mind to drift back to you. over the years, he's taken hundreds of beautiful photographs of drop-dead gorgeous women, yet somehow, when he tried to remember any of them in detail, all their features blurred into one indistinct, nondescript image that all at once looked like every one of them and none of them combined.

but then, amidst all that faded color and swirling chaos, there was you, coming into clear, sharp focus at the center as if you were the only subject he'd ever allowed his camera to capture. his favorite model. his perfect, pretty little muse.

"sorry for taking so long," you began as you reentered the room, now wearing a different lingerie set from the collection, this one a pale lavender and covering far less of you than the blue one did before.

nanami swallowed hard, cleared his throat again in an attempt to play off the fluster he felt creeping up into his cheeks. he assured you it was no problem at all, coming over to pull down a different backdrop that suited the color of the new lingerie better, and assisted the makeup artist in scattering some of the flower petals about the scene while you manager enthusiastically chatted away in the greenroom about another booking for you over the phone.

as you took your place before the camera, there was a moment where nanami was standing close to you, much closer than he probably ever had before, and there was a velvety electricity humming in the space between your bodies that caused both of you to make eye contact. for how long, you didn't know, but one thing you were able to place was that familiar rush of warmth flooding you from the inside out, something that wasn't quite self-consciousness, per se, but still made you extremely aware that he was looking at you.

and not just because you were a pretty girl in lingerie standing a foot away from him.

there was something in his gaze that shimmered with yearning, almost as if, if it were even possible, he didn't even care about the lingerie at all.

almost as if he were just seeing you.

you were used to being stared upon with lust. you'd learned how to navigate that and was lucky to have such a good manager who didn't put up with any inappropriate comments or behavior from some of the more unprofessional photographers you'd encountered in the past.

but this.

this was something different.

this was something whose intentions you couldn't quite read as plainly as before.

"sitting or standing...?" you finally murmured, the intensity of his dark eyes threatening to swallow you whole if you held them for too long, to haunt you long after you left.

nanami seemed to snap out of it then as well, replying, "let's start with standing," before turning back to head to his camera after one more moment to savor the sight of you this close up.

once he was back behind the camera, you began to question if what you'd felt just then was merely your own imagination or if he'd felt it too. and, if he had, what did that even mean? what did you want it to mean?

once the shoot wrapped and you'd changed back into your street clothes, you and your manager thanked nanami and nanami thanked you in return, promising with a softer kind of grin to send over some samples of the photos by the end of the week.

he watched you go, watched from his window on the third floor of the building as you and your manager walked down the street, likely headed to another photoshoot or promotional venture as the two of you talked excitedly, clearly sharing the closeness of friends on top of maintaining a professional relationship to the public, and hoped he wouldn't have to wait too long until he could see you again.

nanami might not have gotten the chance to ask you out this time around, but he had your contact info, or at least your manager's contact info. he'd find a way to get you back to his studio and ask you on a date properly, preferably when you were wearing more clothes, just to make things less awkward for the both of you. but one thing was for certain.

the next time nanami had the chance to photograph you, he wouldn't miss his chance. he just hoped, until then, that your manager was as good at warding off unwanted advances as he'd heard he was. and, who knows, maybe inviting the guy out for a drink or two to discuss some more opportunities for his star model, as well as maybe her favorite cafes and restaurants in the area, would be a good way to win him over and in turn gain easier access to you.

though, for now, he could at least look forward to spending the next several hours studying every detail of your photographs during the editing process, thinking to himself how much he enjoyed his job as he did so.

[moon-fics]

Hi hi! Just read your Bob Floyd x young girlfriend/wife! Reader, and I’m gagging for more! It was so perfect and suited to him, your characterisation skills are 💋 👌 (chef’s kiss)!!!! Could I please maybe request the first time all the topgun pilots meet reader, maybe like at the Hard deck? Thank you sooo much!! - LT xx

OMG, thank you so much, you're so sweet!! Ok, I can try to write for the other characters, but I cannot promise it won't be OOC bc Jake, Rooster, and Bob were my main men. I cannot do all the pilots because that would genuinely take me ages, but I can do three!

Jake Seresin

You meet Jake at the Hard Deck while out with friends.

He spots you immediately and makes you his target for the night.

However, Phoenix and Fanboy notice this just as quick. Since Jake left them hanging during training, they decided to sabotage his entire night.

When Jake goes to approach you with a drink in hand, Phoenix 'accidentally' leaves a pool stick lying around.

Jake had to spend a few minutes apologizing about his drink getting on your purse and offering to pay you back.

Thankfully, you don't yell at him, and instead help him clean your bag.

When he tries to smooth-talk you, Fanboy decides it's a perfect time to bring up when he threw up one time during training.

After an entire night of consistently foiling Jake's plan to sweep you off your feet, he decides to drop the cool guy act.

That's how you find yourself sitting at a table with him having the most wonderful conversation.

He talks about his family, his home, and how much he enjoys his job.

This actually works, and he can't help but smile at the fact that you enjoy his company. Not his job or how he looks, but who he is and what he wants in life.

This is when the tricks stop from Phoenix and Fanboy. Even they know not to ruin something like this.

By the time the bar closes, you're still chatting with him. The conversation flows perfectly, and it ends up being you who asks him out for coffee.

--

"Ok, so you didn't forget?" You ask Natasha for the fifty-first time. She rolls her eyes playfully and fixes your hair. There's a large smile on both your faces as she examines you.

"I think if I forgot, Jake would actually kill me." She laughs. You flatten out your outfit and check for wrinkles. The white fabric is just as you imagined it would be. "You look beautiful."

"You're just saying that because you still feel guilty for ruining my purse years ago," You giggle. Then, it hits you quickly. You're more than thankful for her and how she decided to get back at Jake that night. "I wouldn't be here without you."

"Hey, what about me?" Jake's voice comes from around the corner. Natasha is already stepping in his way to stop him from seeing you. "I'm not gonna. I just wanted to talk to my soon-to-be wife one last time before we're married." He remains on the other side of the wall. "I cannot believe I still paid for that purse."

Bob Floyd

Bob did not meet you at the Hard Deck. He met you while running on a trail.

He might not seem like it, but cardio is important to him and he finds nature relaxing.

You, however, were completely lost. This was a new trail for you and you knew you should have started out easy.

So, when Bob hears someone yelling from the woods, he immediately goes to help.

He finds you only a few feet from the trail, and yet you look so terrified. He can't blame you. There are so many stories of people getting lost in the woods and dying there.

He helps you back to the trail and decides to run with you. He says it's to make sure you stay safe, but it's also because you're pretty.

You don't say much because it exerts too much energy, but there's a connection there.

He visits this trail often and can point out animals he's seen before. It makes the experience much better, and you honestly enjoy having small things pointed out.

You two decide to take a break by a brook. The conversation is awkward at first, and there are a few moments of silence. That doesn't stop you from laughing at his bad jokes or asking about other animals he's seen.

By the end of the run, he asks for your number but stumbles over his words. You gladly give it to him, and thus begins a friendship that slowly grows.

After a few months of running together and spending time outside of the trails, he asks you out.

He makes a whole day of it, too. He sets up a picnic on the trail you two met at.

---

The sun is pounding on your back as you run down the trail. You decided to go alone today because Bob had errands to run. It was beautiful out and you weren't about to waste the day.

But your eyes land on a trail of flowers that were never there before. They lead up a hill that you can't see the top of. Against your better judgment, you follow them. Who knows, maybe you'll find fairies.

Once you reach the top, you notice a large sign with the question 'Will you marry me?'. You immediately assume that you've just spoiled someone else's proposal, until Bob appears next to you.

"What kind of person has a proposal in the middle of the woods?" He asks with a chuckle. You don't know why he's here or how he knew you'd be here. It catches you off guard, and you're stuck trying to think. You're stopped when he gets on one knee. "Probably some guy who is madly in love," He cracks his sweet smile.

Natasha Trace

You meet her because you steal the pool ball to her game.

You genuinely thought it was one from your table and picked it off the ground. Natasha tried to tell you, but you were adamant it was yours.

She's great at playing the long game. So, she lets you have it and watches as the game goes on. She does it with a smirk that tells all.

When you realize you have two of the same balls, your heart drops. This is humiliating because you did this to yourself.

Nervously, you turn to her and hand her the ball back. She isn't mad about it, and she accepts your apology with a laugh.

She invites you to play with her, Bob, and Hangman. You agree and find that they are great company.

Even when Hangman makes cocky comments that pisses everyone off. You can't help but connect with Natasha and almost cling to her. She's vibrant and snarky. She makes the conversation stand out.

When you return the next day to see her there again, you don't hesitate to join her. She introduces you to a few more people, but spends most of her time with you.

She brings up the pool ball story to everyone she can and revels in the way you have to explain yourself. It isn't malicious because she then talks about how she's glad it happened. Otherwise, she'd never have met you.

When you decide to ask her out, it takes a lot of courage. She's such a strong person, and her friendship means the world to you.

When you do ask her out, she acts completely surprised. She pretends she pretends as if this came out of the blue, right before saying yes excitedly.

You two moved in together rather quickly, but it slowed from there. She's not the type to rush everything and instead lets the flow take you towards the future.

--

You enter the house with groceries in hand. They're heavy and there are a lot of them, but you can manage. Your dog greets you happily and follows you into the kitchen.

"Oh, babe, you could have asked for help!" Natasha says while getting up from the couch. She instantly helps you unload the bags and put the food away. As she's reaching for the last item in the paper bag her hand grazes over a small box.

"I didn't want you to do anything on your day off," You explain.

She can feel the velvet texture and is confused as to what you could have bought. When she pulls it out, she's met with something that makes her heart race. She opens it and sees a gorgeous ring that resembles the one she joked about buying.

"Is this-?" She covers her mouth with her hand. She's never been one to cry, but right now she can feel the tears forming in her eyes. "Yes!" She laughs.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

sleeping with other people | s.h. x fem!reader (inappropriate language and sexual content)

1990, a shitty apartment somewhere in indiana

“billy! i know you’re fucking in there! let me in you asshole, don’t try and hide when we both just need a fuck!” it was eight thirty at night as you were banging a heavy fist against a wooden door. you were ignoring the plenty of other occupants staring from their doorframes as you kicked a boot foot with a strength that almost brought you to the floor.

“hey!” you turned to see some older man storming over to you, a dark blue bathrobe flowing with the air from his stride. “you need to get the hell out of here or i’m calling the police.”

“i’m visiting someone, i’m doing nothing wrong.” huffing as you crossed your fishnet covered arms over your chest. a hip cocked, the bottom of your mini shirt tickling your upper thighs.

“well if that someone doesn’t claim you in the next minute, you better get your ass moving or you’ll be loitering.” the older man giving the same sass back.

“uh, i’m-i’m her someone.” a younger voice announced. you and the man turned to see a guy, probably in his twenties like you, wearing a loose t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. his hair was thick and full, looking a bit of a riot. “yeah, sorry. i was sleeping, sa- sam. you know me, the apocalypse couldn’t wake me up.” he chuckled nervously, you eyed him up and down.

“you want to be responsible for this mess?” “hey!”

the guy stepped between you and grumpy face, “yeah it’s all good. no more problems for the night, promise mr. johnson.” the man “hmmp” eyed you up and down then turned away.

the other tenets lingered for a moment longer before your new friend started to direct you to, what you assumed, was his apartment. it was pretty much a dorm room, an even tinnier studio. you just flopped onto his bed, the springs creaking from your thrown weight, and heard the rolling wheels of a chair then a sigh.

“so…what’s-what’s your name? guessing it’s not actually sam.” boy savior tried to break the thickening silence, patting noises bouncing off his four walls. “i’m steve.”

“y/n.” giving a mindless wave of your hand as you let your eyes focused on his popcorn ceiling. you just wanted a fuck now you’re just talking with some random dude. pushing onto your elbows you observe the boy, steve, across from you. a tilted of your head you noted how he was covered in freckles, a slight stubbed was darkening his upper lip and jaw, he tried to avoid looking your way with a slight red running up his neck. cute.

“do you know billy hargrove?” abruptly asking about your go to fuck buddy. you saw the way steve’s brows twitched and he made a slight face, “uh not really. just super annoying, plays loud rock music and there’s always a girl leaving his room.” his eyes drifting to his lap as he picked at his pants fabric.

you rolled your eyes, “can’t believe i’m attracted to that stupid guy.” dropping your head back down, a sharp sting in your chest at the confirmation he couldn’t give a flying shit about you. not like you, always running back to be in his arms.

steve coughed, “yeah…uh, no offense but what’d you see in him anyway? like you’re completely out of his league.”

you gave a huff, “he choose me out of a room full of extremely beautiful women. that doesn’t happen to me and…i don’t know. guess he kinda always made me feel beautiful for an hour and i became addicted to it.” saying it aloud made you feel ice cold, a chill that just sat in your heart.

“well you probably already know this, but you deserve better. like thousands times better, someone who’s always gonna put you first.” steve’s voice got soft, sardonic and sweet. it made your stomach tangle together.

you joked, “and is that someone gonna be you? since you were my savior for the night?” but you weren’t opposed to the idea, if you could still have sex tonight that’s a win for you. and if it’s with a better guy then it’s a huge fuck you to billy.

“uh-i-i mean…i wouldn’t mi-mind being that for you…” again you pushed onto your elbows, brows cocked at steve’s stuttering, it was endearing and sweet. he squeezed his eyes shut tight and it caused his face to scrunch up then his hands started moving through the air, “in general. i-i don’t want you to think i’m taking advantage or-or something gross, but i-i would be that person to put you first.”

a smile appeared on your face, “that’s very bold of you to say when we’ve only know each other for…like ten minutes.” you changed your position on his bed from laying on your back to shuffling onto your stomach with palms holding your cheeks.

steve shrugged, “what can i say, i’m a bold guy. and i don’t know, you just have a good energy or whatever about you. my friend told me sometimes you just know right away if someone’s good or bad.”

“wise friend.” “oh definitely, but only on certain things. her taste in food is another thing to worry about.”

the silence settled over again and then, “hey steve, wanna have sex?” he coughed, “what?” you shrugged, “what? i can’t be a bold girl?” he blinked rapidly, “no-no that’s…i’m just-are you sure?”

you tucked some hair behind your ear, “your a good guy steve, no one else would’ve taken a screaming girl into their home. and i’ll be honest, i kinda want to see how well you treat a gal. are you a giver or taker?” wiggling your brows suggestively.

steve scuffed, “i’ll happily give all night.” with that you pushed back onto your knees, eyes hooded while your fingers played with the hem of your skirt, “then why don’t you come show me.”

he stayed in his seat, eyes trailing over you. “are you sure?” voice breathy. you nodded your head and that was the signal that allowed for him to step closer and rest a knee into his comforter. his large palms caressed your warm cheeks, a thumb tugging at your plum colored bottom lip.

“i’ll give you everything you deserve.”

-

2007, a chinese restaurant

paul was…what’s the word? he’s fucking boring. but he was a nice guy and you needed to be with nice guys, but all those other things just combined into a bigger boring mess. you had to withhold an eye roll every ten minutes whenever he coughed, even his coughing bothers you!

“so i was telling sandra about how i was thinking we were in the market for a place, together, and maybe to even start a family. but that was just an after thought, i’m not sure what your stance on that is still. but i was thinking somewhere in the more suburban areas, you could-“

“i’m sorry,” mind running off its tracks the longer he talked. “i-i uh, there was something i actually wanted to tell you tonight. my therapist thought it would be a good idea.” pulling a folded piece of paper from your clutch, running your palms over the wrinkled lines.

you cleared your throat, “paul-“ “y/n.” your nostrils flared at the simple interruption. “paul, my therapist suggested that i come clean about something i’ve been withholding and i agree, wanting to move forward honestly.”

you heard him give a small scuff, “well i don’t think you need to pay a therapist for that.” “paul, please just-“ he held his hands up, “right. sorry, lips sealed.”

a deep breath, “my therapist says i have sexual anxiety, meaning whenever i’m feeling a certain way i always go back to this one person over and over again, no matter if the outcome is the same.” you rubbed your rouge lips together, “i’ve been cheating on you with someone else from the beginning of our relationship.”

he was quiet, the restaurant was buzzing with idle chatter around you, your blood was rushing in your ears. “and also, we should breakup.” icing on the fucking cake.

paul puckered his lips while nodding his head, a slight humorless huff, “a big it’s not you it’s me. because yeah, this is all you, y/n. you could’ve just said something from the beginning, but nope! you had to cheat on me this entire fucking time!” he was practically screaming and all eyes were on the two of you.

“paul, i-i’m really sor-“ “you’re a fucking whore. a goddamn sex fiend whore!” and with that dramatic display he stormed out of the restaurant leaving you shaking in place. somehow, someway your brain kicked into gear and rushed you outside of the restaurant into the lukewarm night. with shaky fingers you managed to pull up his number and send a simple, ‘hey’. slamming your eyes shut, you tilted your head to the sky and tried to stop any tears from falling. and then your phone pinged.

‘come over’

-

2007, a video store

“have a good day sir.” three second beat, “jackass,” mumbled under steve’s breath. no one was ever satisfied with simple customer service these days, they basically want your hand up their ass and puppet them around so they don’t have to think for them to be satisfied. or in robin’s cause, you need to smile more and satisfy every male customer that enters the store.

“you wanna get drunk after work?” robin asked once she walked up to the counter and dropped off a box of return dvds. steve smiled at her idea, “what happened today that you want to forget so badly?” chatting while getting to work on the computer.

robin sighed dramatically, her default mode, “i tripped in front of a really cute girl and that resulted in some dvds crashing to the ground. and i still have to go pick them up, i just walked away! then i could hear soft giggling, they sounded so pretty, but god it’s cause i looked like a doofus!” her hands smacked her temples.

steve just shook his head and ignore the doorbell until he heard someone yelling, “you fucking asshole!” that caught his attention. his head whipped in time to get smacked back into its original position, pretty sure he felt his brain rattle for a second. “you cheated on me with my cousin! what the hell is your problem?”

he had to blink a few times before he was sure his vision was clear. standing on the other side of the counter stood a fuming blonde, her nails almost leaving scratch marks on the wood top. “hey…ste-“ “it’s sarah.”

“sarah, right. sorry. uh it’s just that we’ve only been having casual…sex.” dropping his voice when he remembered this was his place of work. he turned to robin, “give me five?” she just nodded with wide eyes.

“let’s talk outside.” persuading sarah into leaving those nosy old people behind compared to the busy working crowd. she leaned against the brick wall while steve watched her with his hands sitting on his hips, “okay like i was saying, we were only having casual sex. you explicitly stated that and i was taking your word for it. so after two months if you wanted something more you should’ve said something.”

sarah huffed, “me? you also could’ve said something! didn’t you want more after a month?” steve licked his lips, “no, not really. i-i couldn’t find a spark with you that was worth searching for.”

“so you fucked my cousin. was that your dramatic way of saying this was over?” “…kinda?”

next thing steve knew, a fist punched him in the nose.

-

2007, a sex addict meeting (that’s a real thing?)

“before i started this program i thought ‘love’ was a feeling. but that’s bullshit, it’s not a feeling it’s a decision, like everything else. and i see now that when i was in my addiction i made the decision over and over again to choose sex over my self-worth. and it doesn’t mean that i don’t like sex now it doesn’t mean i’m not a sexual person. gail. i don’t need to go trolling online looking for women to go down on. i don’t need to fuck eight guys on one night. i don’t deny what i’ve done. i embrace my past. yes, i did once call one of my neighbors in the middle of the day when he was at work and said, ‘grab some condoms and meet me at the delicious soft pretzel place.’ who cares? i did let someone put a protein bar up my ass once. big deal. i did hack into my supermarkets instagram account and posted a picture of my asshole and said, ‘there was a sale on asshole.’ and then said, ‘come and lick my asshole if you’re bald.’”

you had to leave that meeting before you started laughing at something you weren’t supposed to, plus you couldn’t stop checking if he texted you every five seconds. this was something your therapist suggested you attend, but after tonight you probably won’t be attending another meeting.

a cool breeze tickled your cheek just as you heard someone speak. “holy shit, no way.” you looked over your shoulder to see a guy standing on the building steps with his eyes focused on you, planning to ignore him was changed once you realized your recognized that face.

a soft laugh, “what the hell? steve?” moving closer as he descended the final two steps, automatically pulling each other into a hug. you leaned back with your arms still holding his waist, “wow it’s been so long, like ten-“

“seventeen years.” he quickly corrected you. that made your eyes widen and step back, “wow. and you still look the same, just more matured.” letting your eyes wonder over a forgotten piece of your past.

“you look even more beautiful,” he spoke the sentiment so easily. “so what’ve you been up to?” slipping past his comment quickly onto neutral ground. you lightly scoffed your boot against the concrete, “uh yeah, i-i work with kids, shockingly. kindergarten, little fuckers piss me off, but it keeps me from wanting kids everyday and i appreciate that.”

that got steve to laugh loudly and you followed after a beat when you realized how insane that sounded outside your brain. “i just-i already see them as my own kids and some are more like younger siblings in a way. but yeah…not planning to add to the population anytime soon.” rambling like you were trying to save face.

“no yeah, totally understandable. i have friends with younger siblings and they are such little shits, but i really do love them.” steve stuck his hands into his jacket pockets, “actually i meant to ask you, what’s a girl like you doing in that shit hole?” nodding his head at the building behind you both.

“and i have that same question for you. whatcha doing here girlfriend? you a supposed sex addict?” taking a quick glance at your phone, no message. you turned back to steve who was watching you with raised brows.

“what?” “got a booty call to take care of?” you scoffed, “no. just waiting for something important.”

steve hummed, “well um, if you’re free…would you like to get dinner? catch up a bit more?” he bounced slight on his feet. you debated blowing him-off-but you really didn’t have anything waiting for you, especially not him. “got a place in mind?”

-

one hour later, a small diner

“no way! she really whacked you hard.” leaning over the table slightly to see how steve’s nose still held some black and purple bruises. “bet she had a good reason for it though, am i right?” pointing a salty fry at him with squinting eyes.

he sighed, “yeah.” a hand rubbed the back of his neck, “i sorta slept with her cousin…” “boy or girl?” feeling a plot twist coming.

“…boy.” “oh how scandalous!” smiling widely around your straw. he rolled his eyes, but kept his head ducked low, long strands of his hair shadowing his eyes.

“hey steve?” he hummed around a bite of his burger. you taped your nails on the table, “you remember billy hargrove?” that caused steve to choke on his food, the loud coughing drawing eyes to your booth. you smiled just a bit at the amusement.

“hargrove? what-what about him?” managing to swallow some root beer and wipe away his tears. you replied more to the table then steve as you mumbled, “i’ve been sleeping with him on and off for the past fifteen years.” quickly sucking on your straw, chugging down your milkshake.

a beat then, “wow that’s…i’ll be honest that’s sad.” brows furrowed as your jaw dropped, a little milkshake sliding onto your chin, “and you constantly cheating isn’t?” trying to defend your actions.

steve held a finger up, “first of all, i’m cheating with new and interesting people. you cheat on your partners with the same asshole that you keep crawling back to. now that’s a toxic cycle.” and he…wasn’t wrong.

“fuck,” groaning to yourself. “i really need to get over this awful attachment i have to him. it’s genuinely ruining my chances of having a happy relationship, that fucking parasite!” slightly yelling the last bit.

“yes the parasite and the…other parasite. cause let’s be honest it’s an equal parasitic relationship if you think about it, his side is just more deeply concealed.” steve wiped a finger clean of ketchup with his mouth, your eyes followed the movement. you felt that knot in your stomach.

“i really want to fuck you right now,” blurting the thought out. steve was taking a sip of soda at the exact moment and it ended up spraying the table, and a bit of your top. “sorry-sorry,” he coughed while grabbing a billion napkins to do damage control. you didn’t bother with your shirt, just covering it with your jacket for now.

“sorry didn’t mean to spring that on you, but i felt the need to say it. cause like, i like this sharing we’re doing, but i don’t want to mess it up and just constantly think about you sexually. on accident of course.”

“right,” steve covered his face with his hands for a moment, “um…how about this? we come up with a safe word whenever the other is doing something sexy.” running a hand through his dark strands.

you smirk, “are you saying the feeling is mutual?” steve smiled shyly and looked out the window for a moment, “of course it’s mutual. you got sexier and everything, everything about you is dangerous for me.”

you didn’t exknowledge his sentence, moving forward. “what if we use…avocado?” “too sexual.”

your brows jumped, “how is avocado too sexual?” “if you saw the way i cut one open then you would agree.” “are you just using your fucking bare hands? what are you a caveman?”

steve waved you off, “what about red light? very obvious to stop.” “nah, doesn’t sound fun. that’s the point of safe words, to kinda sound fun.”

he sighed, “okay what’s the worse thing you can think off? like something you know can cause someone great pain.” “dick in a mousetrap.”

steve recoiled, “jesus! where the hell did that come from?” he visibly shivered at the words. “such a sadist you are.”

you grinned brightly, “but it makes you scared, so we’ll shorten it to mousetrap.” you took a quick glance at your phone and realized how lates it’s gotten, “shit. sorry, but i gotta head home, need to make sure i have everything ready for work tomorrow.”

“oh yeah,” steve looked at his watch, “didn’t realize the time flew by.” he insisted that he pay the check and the both of you headed back onto the quiet night streets. you stood in front of each other, a distant street lamp casting its yellow glow.

you pulled a pen out of your purse, “give me your hand.” steve hesitated then stretched it out, “this…is my number. so we don’t have to do smoke signals or keep going to sex addict meetings to find each other.”

steve smiled while flexing his fingers, “smart. well this was definitely a pleasant turn of events, made my night.”

“me too,” twisting your body slightly. you didn’t want to leave but you had to. “well…talk to you later, boy savior.” and you headed off into the night, only looking over your shoulder twice to see him still watching you walk away.

to be continued

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a/n: PLEASE GO WATCH THE MOVIE ITS ONE OF MY FAVORITE ROMCOMS!!!!!!!! also that’s what inspired this, like i’ve been wanting to do a fic inspired by the movie but i recently rewatched it with a friend and boom! inspiration!

[hypothermiatapes]

Sometimes I randomly think about how much Harry’s childhood probably affected his personalities and relationships.

We know Harry was abused as a kid—it glaringly obvious in the books—, but my question is what exactly did this abuse do to him in the long run?

I think for Harry it wasn’t as obvious as it could have been, but to me he seems like a wonderful example of an abuse victim in a way. When he gets angry it’s usually cold and calculated, Harry usually not being too loud as not to draw attention but to let his anger be known. He doesn’t like attention, usually avoiding it if he can and getting uncomfortable from it, I think it could be traced back to attention usually having negative consequences.

While he may go to an adult first when a problem arises (McGonagall and the Philosophers Stone) if the adult proves incompetent he will take matters into his own hands and not bother getting their help again. He also doesn’t respect them like he could and treats those who treat him badly the same, Snape a wonderful example of this. To him he is on the same level as them and thinks lowly of them at the same time.

When Ron and Hermione are bickering it annoys him and often causes him to blow if it goes on too long or he’s pulled into it. I think raised voices or arguing are a type of trigger, not one that’s very strong but can makes him feel more on edge and slightly more antsy. I also think him being treated as “less than”—or like a child—is also a slight trigger because that’s how the Dursleys would treat him.

He also usually is very unaware of the people around him that don’t make a difference in his life, failing to know the names of kids he’s gone to school with for years. To me it seems like someone that’s always only relied on themselves is too busy caring for themselves that they don’t have time to care about people that don’t matter. These people also fade to the back because they don’t pose a risk in any way nor do they bring him any joy. At the Dursleys he wouldn’t have had time to care about kids at school because he’s too busy thinking about how to escape Dudley and his gang and not get on his aunt and uncles bad side.

The sorting hat also mentioned how Harry had a thirst to prove himself, something that’s common among abused kids because they want to be treated better. His risk taking behavior could have been mixed with this because a subconscious part of his mind thought it the only way to be liked due to him being a celebrity.

I also noticed how he doesn’t really branch out when it comes to meeting people, simply going with the flow. It could be because as a kid if he went up to Petunia, Vernon or Dudley for attention it never ended well and the kids at his primary school probably shied away because he was a target for bullying. The logical decision is to let people come to him and prove they want to be around, so he let Ron and Hermione come around without really reaching out.

Emotions also make him uncomfortable, seen with Cho crying around him. He doesn’t understand them likely because he was forced to push his away because he wasn’t allowed to ever be upset or too happy. Something that’s common in emotionally neglected children, it also points to his lack of empathy. While Harry may seem to care he does not come across as very empathetic for the average person unless it’s people he’s close with.

Harry is a wonderful example of an abuse victim in a way, but only if you look really closely.