#when i was talking about this with my friend and she was like why are getting worked up over fandoms do what they always do

[vigilante-3073]

Obsessive Compulsivity

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Y/N has OCD and often struggles with her disorder in the workplace. Spencer looks out for her and ensures that no one is able to mess with her.

TW: Mentions of OCD/compulsions/feelings/panic attacks, disrespectful behavior, pranks, Spencer being a sweetheart.

Y/N had been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder when she was only fifteen years old. Y/N had struggled with her compulsions for years before she was able to get on medication. Y/N lived with a persistent feeling of intense anxiety and distress, the medication helped but the side effects seemed to outweigh the good ones.

Y/N had been in psychotherapy since her diagnosis and was able to cope with her condition, but it still effected her day to day life.

Y/N had a few particular compulsions that Spencer kept an eye on. He noticed that she gave into her compulsions more when she was stressed or upset. In their line of work it was important to look out for one another and he tried to be there for her as much as he could.

Y/N needed everything to be in threes.

She checked her door three times to make sure it was locked, washed her hands three times, clicked her pen three times in a row and a few other things. Her apartment was spotless, all the cans were facing out in her pantry, hangers were equally spaced in her closet and book spines were all aligned on her shelves.

Y/N cleaned her apartment every day, unable to rest until everything was in it's proper place. Her desk in the bullpen was spotless, everything aligned properly in perfect symmetry. It really bothered her when other people touched her things, but she tried to be kind about it.

Morgan tended to take advantage of that.

He stood in front of Y/N's desk in the bullpen, shifting around the items on her desktop while she was in the office with Hotch.

"What are you doing?" Emily asked, Spencer looked up from his paperwork.

"Wind her up and watch her go," Morgan smirked.

"You're an ass," Emily said, shaking her head.

"I'll bet you twenty bucks that she doesn't make it a minute without putting everything back like it was," Morgan said.

"I'm not betting," Emily replied.

"Why not?" Morgan questioned.

"Because it's mean and juvenile," Spencer stated.

"It may be juvenile, but it's not mean, it's- Oh, here she comes," Morgan said, quickly returning to his seat as the door to Hotch's office opened.

Y/N walked down the stairs and made her way over to her desk, she froze in place as she stared at everything. Morgan watched her out of the corner of his eye, glancing over to Emily.

Y/N's eyes flickeed from item to item as she reached out and adjusted things. She returned the items to their proper place, tapping them three times as she moved them.

"Stop touching my things, Morgan," Y/N said, pulling out her chair and sitting down.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sweetheart," He replied.

Y/N huffed, setting her files down and looking around at her things. Spencer watched her spend the next hour adjusting her items minutely, unable to focus on anything else until it was fixed.

Y/N was far too nice to do anything to get back at Morgan, but Spencer was always willing to help out a friend.

..

Later that day Spencer loosened the screws on the back of Morgan's chair, waiting patiently for him to return to his desk. Spencer almost felt giddy when he saw Morgan make his way over to his seat.

He sat down in the chair and leaned back, the backrest popped off and Morgan flailed his arms in the air as he fell onto the ground.

Morgan landed on his back, legs caught up on the seat of his desk chair as he looked around with a confused look on his face.

Emily laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as JJ sprang up from the edge of Emily's desk. Y/N turned around in her chair quickly and Spencer allowed a satisfied smile to settle on his face.

"Are you okay?" JJ asked.

Morgan stood up, "Somebody messed with my chair," He stated.

"He's fine," Emily smiled, shaking her head and returning to her paperwork.

"Who screwed with my chair?" Morgan asked.

JJ bent down and picked up the backrest of his chair from the floor, "The whole back fell off," She said.

JJ looked down at the floor, noticing the set of black screws on the carpeted ground, "Even the screws came out," JJ stated.

"You must have really pissed someone off," Emily said, not looking up from her desk.

Y/N looked over at Spencer, "Did you do that?" She asked quietly.

Spencer shrugged, "Just seems like karmic justice to me," He replied, sending her a wink.

Y/N felt her cheeks flush as she turned her attention back to the case files on her desk.

Over the next few months, Spencer became Y/N's avenging angel whenever Morgan decided to mess with her. Morgan tended to push the envelope with Y/N and Spencer absolutely hated it.

Y/N was a bit of a pushover and had always allowed people to walk all over her without a peep. Y/N deserved to have someone stand up for her and Spencer was happy to be that person.

Spencer expected Morgan to back off after a few innocent pranks, but he just wouldn't back down and Spencer chose not to either. He had changed out the sugar for salt in Morgan's coffee, added itching powder to his clothes in the locker room and had even superglued his pens to the top of his desk.

Spencer was honestly starting to get tired of thinking up new ways to mess with him. Y/N knew that Spencer was continuing to look out for her, she asked him to let it go, but he couldn't stand the idea of Morgan using her condition for his own amusement.

...

Morgan did not understand her condition until he saw how it truly effected her while they were out on a case.

The team had been on a case that required them to locate an unpredictable and dangerous unsub. Theories were thrown around and a long list of suspects gradually became smaller as more information was uncovered. The team finally reached the most likely suspect and a few searches from Garcia proved that they had their man.

The members of the BAU found themselves surrounding the man, snipers set up in the building across the street. Y/N had been trained in hostage negotiation and de-escalation, the unsub suffered from delusions and the team thought that Y/N may be able to get through to him.

Y/N was a profiler and did not carry a gun, she worked in the office and only went out into the field when the team deemed it necessary. Hotch ordered her to stay close to Morgan, putting her in a bulletproof FBI vest to ensure her safety.

The conversation had been going well and Y/N was beginning to establish a rapport. Suddenly a loud noise from nearby made the unsub jumpy and he became aware of how many officers surrounded him. He drew a weapon and everyone yelled at him to drop it, the man ignored them and charged towards law enforcement.

The sniper took aim and fired a shot, sending the unsub's blood splattering onto Y/N. She froze, eyes glossing over with tears as a nauseous feeling settled in her stomach.

Morgan stepped in front of her, looking her over for injuries, "Are you okay?" He asked.

"It got on me," Y/N stated softly, her hands were trembling as her breathing began to speed up.

"Are you hurt? Are you injured?" Morgan repeated, hand cupping her cheek and pulling her gaze away from the body.

"There's blood on me," Y/N mumbled shakily, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You need to breathe, Y/N. C'mon, baby, you're fine, it's just blood," Morgan said, attempting to comfort her.

"Here, I've got her," Spencer said, tucking his gun away and moving over to them.

"Spencer," Y/N mumbled.

"You're okay, you're safe," He assured, one hand holding onto her wrist while his other settled on her waist.

"It's on me," Y/N said, staring down at the speckles of blood on her skin.

Spencer nodded, "We'll clean it off, okay? I'll help you, but first I need you to slow your breathing down," He said, Y/N nodded stiffly.

She was hyperventilating, breath coming out in panicked puffs as she looked around wildly. Spencer took off his vest quickly, taking her hand and settling it on his chest.

"Focus on me, alright? I need you to copy my breathing," He said, holding her hand against his chest over his heart.

"I can't," She hiccuped, shaking her head.

"You have to. Just close your eyes and stay with me," Spencer instructed.

Y/N sobbed, "Just close your eyes and focus on me," Spencer repeated, his other hand settling on her waist again and pulling her closer to himself.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, "Copy my breathing, okay? Nice and slow," He said.

Spencer took a deep breath in before releasing it as a slow exhale. Y/N struggled for a moment before slowly settling into his calm breathing pattern after a few breaths.

Her eyes fluttered open, glossy eyes meeting with his, "Let's get you cleaned up," He said, she nodded.

"She okay?" Morgan asked.

Spencer nodded, "I need to take her home so she can get cleaned up," He said.

"I'll let Hotch know," Morgan nodded.

"Thanks, Morgan," Spencer replied, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. Spencer wrapped his arm around her and led her over to the SUV, he settled her in the passenger seat before he drove her home.

Spencer walked her up to her apartment, sittin on the couch while she got herself cleaned up. Y/N scrubbed at her skin roughly under the scalding hot water, desperately trying to remove all traces of the blood.

Y/N felt like she couldn't get clean, sobbing as she continued to scrub her skin raw. It took almost an hour before she had finally calmed down enough to shut off the water and step out of the shower. She dried herself off and got dressed, but her entire body still felt dirty.

Spencer stood from his seat on the couch as the bathroom door opened, "You didn't have to stay," Y/N mumbled with a soft sniffle.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Spencer said.

Y/N nodded, eyes glossing over with tears again, "I can still feel his blood on my skin," She admitted shakily.

The skin of her arms, neck and chest were red and irritated from where she scrubbed the skin raw.

Spencer made his way over to her, "Can I touch you?" He asked, she nodded.

His fingers wrapped around her wrist gently, lifting her arm up to inspect her reddened skin. Spencer brushed his thumb over her pulse, "How can I help?" He questioned.

"I don't know," She replied.

"Can I give you a hug?" Spencer asked.

Her lip trembled and she nodded, Spencer let go of her arm and stepped closer to her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her body against his chest gently. 

The smell of his cologne and the soft beating of his heart was calming. Y/N felt something break within her as she sobbed, tears rolling down her cheeks and soaking into Spencer's shirt as she slid her arms around him.

Y/N pressed herself closer to his chest, crying until her lungs ached and her eyes burned. She gripped onto the material of Spencer's shirt, he rubbed her back gently while murmuring words of encouragement into her hair.

It felt like an eternity before her sobs changed to shaky breaths, her tears drying on her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Y/N mumbled against his chest.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Spencer assured.

Y/N reluctantly pulled away, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear gently.

"Thank you," Y/N mumbled, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Spencer asked.

She shook her head, "You've done more than enough already, Spencer," Y/N stated.

"I can stay if you don't want to be alone," He offered.

"You'd do that?" Y/N asked.

"Of course, I'd do anything for you," He answered easily.

[divineturtle]

Bothers me when I'm reading a fanfic and they make Doctor Leonard "Bones" McCoy just like. A mean asshole? MY Doctor McCoy introduced Spock to baby talk. MY Doctor McCoy bounces on his toes and has a smile bright as the sun. MY Doctor McCoy knocked Kirk *and* Spock out with a hypo to sacrifice himself for them even though the aliens said he was almost for sure going to die, and the other two would probably live. MY Doctor McCoy was like, hey, sure Spock committed mutiny, but do we really gotta arrest him? Yeah he's grumpy sometimes, but have you considered the fact that he's stuck on a ship in Space with two assholes that literally never listen?

I just watched the Abraham Lincoln episode and I stg it's a miracle McCoy isn't actually a huge asshole, because wym "this planet WAS deadly but Abraham Lincoln says it's cool so we're going" "hey, don't do that, you could beam down into lava and literally DIE" "Ugh shut UP McCoy we're following Abraham Lincoln onto the Lava Planet That WAS ENTIRELY LAVA until two minutes ago" dude I'd be swinging at a mfer. Especially if I was their doctor knowing it was going to be my job to sew them back together. They're absolute menaces to him and he still loves them and is willing to die for them every other episode.

And I don't ever want to see another "ahh he hates Spock" when he so obviously does not. In the last episode, he wasn't even sure that Kirk and Janice had swapped bodies and yet again, he was ready to commit mutiny with Spock and Scotty (why does Spock love mutiny? 🤨) He does like to rib Spock and get reactions out of him, but Spock likes to do it to McCoy just as much. He's been around humans his ENTIRE life, his mom is a human, he's half human, "I have no idea what you mean, Doctor, I'm just a simple little logic machine," you cannot convince me it's not a game.

And every time I feel like McCoy is being hurtful for actually no reason, the next scene is Spock taking action because of whatever McCoy had said and allowing himself to tap into that human part of him. He has a way of speaking Spock. It's not always nice but it's a way that gets through. Do you think asking Spock to use his Vulcan powers to permanently alter his friend and captain's memory so he forgets his grief over this chick he fell desperately for and then also she died in the span of like four hours is a great idea? No, he'd probably have some moral or logical issues with that. but just speech at him about love and feelings and stuff, throw something in there about how great it'd be if he could just forget, and he'll do it himself.

ANOTHER THING. When he's an asshole, he apologizes. He's not an asshole often, but when he is, he apologizes. Leonard McCoy is a lot of things, but he's not really a dick.

I think he deserves to be represented for the guy he is. He has SO many nice and good moments, he's just subtle about them. Remember when Kirk was like, "Bones, why didn't you tell me she was blind?" And he was like, "Idk Jim maybe because that'd be rude? Have you considered it's not your business?" REAL. Honestly, real.

This is a much longer rant than I meant for it to be and somehow I still have more I could say so imma cut myself off right here ❤️ If you read all that, thanks, you're just as weird as I am, even if you don't agree with my lil character analysis. If you didn't read all that, then you're not reading this ✨️

[inkedbybarnes]

blind date

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: convinced that bucky will never like you back, you agree to a blind date arranged for you to forget about him.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: fluff. two idiots pining over each other (i know, i know. i love the trope). blind dates (they honestly scare me). boundaries being crossed. not so gentleman of a blind date. protective & grumpy bucky (yes, that's a warning!). pet names such as doll. lowercase writing. not proofread.

notes: happy 500 followers to us! hehe. sorry it took long, i waited until i reached that milestone and we finally did! we're growing in our small delulu home, and i love it. <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“come on! tell me more about this mystery guy.”

natasha plopped down the couch beside you while she held a pint of ice cream in her hand and a spoonful on its way to her mouth. you were talking about the blind date that sam arranged for you, and she hasn't stopped asking questions since you mentioned it.

“there's really nothing to tell besides that he's a guy looking for a date and that he's friends with sam. i'm actually surprised that sam set this all up, but i trust him, you know? maybe it'll be nice,” you answered, ignoring the fact that sam suggested this to help you get over your not-so-little crush on a super soldier.

your phone beeped, showing a message sent to you by your teammate. “speaking of the devil, sam just sent me the details but i'm really not sure if i should go. it doesn't feel right.”

“and leave the poor guy waiting? not happening." natasha stuck her spoon into her pint and set it down on the coffee table. “you feel that way because you like someone already, but nothing's going to happen if we'll sit here waiting. you're either giving this date a chance or ask bucky out. it's time you finally go out there and see someone. aren't you sick of us yet?"

“i'm quite sick of you, that's for sure.” you joked, having natasha as your room neighbour and basically your best friend. if you weren't spending your time sleeping in your room, you'd be spending it with her. “i just don't think i should be going on dates when i know i'm technically not emotionally available for others yet.”

“oh, you can't be sick of me. i'm great company." natasha replied confidently. “then why did you agree? we all know, besides barnes, that you've liked him for so long. plus, he's never been with anyone for ages. the two of you makes sense.”

you gnawed on your lower lip, hesitant to tell nat the reason why you agreed to this stupid date, but she was your best friend and also one hell of a spy to even try and hide it. “he told me that he found someone similar to bucky and that i might want to meet him. we agreed to let it be a blind date to avoid the mess of telling them that they're meeting an avenger.”

“i knew it. you're going on a rebound date!” she jumped on her seat, as if she'd solved the winning numbers to the lottery. “there was no way you'd suddenly go on a blind date without a catch. you're too hung up on bucky!”

“keep it down!” you pulled her back into the couch, nervously looking around the room to see if anyone was close by. “i'm pretty sure rebounds only apply to people i've dated. bucky's hardly a candidate for that list.”

“you've liked him for way too long that it basically feels like you had a relationship, and i'm pretty sure he likes you too,” natasha said. “trust me, my guts? golden.”

you winced at the thought. there had been zero signs that bucky liked you back. as much as you trusted natasha and her instincts, this was something you couldn't just assume.

“i don't think so, nat. i've given him enough hints. it's either he's too dense about it or he's just not interested. maybe it's just how it's supposed to be, and i can't keep myself stuck with maybes forever.” you sighed, deciding to finally go to the blind date. “help me pick an outfit?”

“like you even have to ask?” she smiled, dragging you to your room while you were still left with uncertainty in your heart.

the restaurant was one of those hole-in-the-wall places in downtown new york. it had a lot people dining inside, their noise easily heard from the outside, yet the ambiance already felt warm and welcoming. you wondered if sam suggested the place or the guy you were about to meet.

you sighed, giving your chest one last tap since it wouldn't stop beating so fast. it was a wonder how your heartbeat remained stable during a risky mission, while a harmless date had you this nervous. although with that, you felt human.

“okay, let's see where this goes,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your watch that had a tracking device in it, as requested (or ordered) by your best friend.

natasha initially opted to come with you and seat somewhere far, but you told her that you didn't need it. so, she settled with a tracking device, as if you weren't an avenger who could defend yourself. you couldn't find it in you to complain, since this was natasha's own way of showing that she cared.

you entered the restaurant, eyes wandering around the room despite not knowing exactly what to look for. the only details you were allowed to know was that “joseph” knew where to take you, so you assumed that person was one of the staff that you had to look for.

once you found a waitress that didn't look too occupied, you approached her with a smile. “excuse me, may i know where joseph is?”

the lady looked up at you, recognition evident on her face. you were slightly worried that she knew your identity, but she gave you a warm smile and held your arm gently. “oh, he's right there by the counter. let me take you to him!”

she escorted you towards the man handling the counter that seemed to be where the orders were taken. he was shouting various orders behind him while arranging the food on the counter. by the looks of it, he could be the manager or the owner of the place.

“she's here!” the lady beside you exclaimed, catching the full attention of joseph.

“ah, there's our special guest for tonight!” joseph walked around the counter to hug you, as if you knew each other for a long time. “come, come! we have the best spot reserved for you. it's right outside where you can enjoy the view while also having some privacy, eh? your date already arrived, but no worries. he wasn't waiting for too long.”

you were rendered speechless as he took you to the patio, not expecting your date to arrive first, and most importantly not expecting to see him right away. you thought you were early enough, but it seems that your date was an earlier bird than you were.

once outside, all you could see was an empty patio with one man sitting not so far from where you were standing. you hated how you could only see his back and not his face, since he was facing the opposite direction. although, you immediately noticed how he was dressed similarly to bucky.

similar haircut, black boots, and a black jacket. while you weren't sure if they actually looked alike, sam wasn't kidding about them having some similarities.

“how come it's empty out here?” you asked with genuine curiosity. the restaurant was oozing with customers tonight, and they could surely use the extra space outdoors.

“well, uh...” joseph scratched his head, smiling awkwardly as he looked for an answer. “oh, well, stop worrying about that! you're here to go on a date and nothing more! let us worry about that ourselves, hm? come, let's not make your date wait for too long.”

you both walked towards the only table occupied, taking a deep breath before joseph announced, “your date has arrived!”

the man turned around, eyes widened at the sudden noise, but he eventually smiled once he looked at you.

“hey, nice to finally meet you.” he stood up, extending his hand. “i'm martin.”

one look at him and you knew that your heart stubbornly stayed with someone you shouldn't be thinking about.

“i still can't believe that i'm on a date with an avenger.”

you were barely done with your meal despite being here for more than an hour, and martin hasn't been able to stop gushing about your whole avenger sideline. while you understood his excitement, this wasn't the type of date that you hoped for.

“you think i could tell my friends?” he asked, suddenly nudging his chair closer to you that he was basically sitting beside you. “they probably won't believe me, so will it be okay if we took a picture?”

oh, so that's why he moved closer.

“sure.” you forced a smile. “but don't get too close, maybe? i'm.. i'm not that comfortable yet.”

as if you said nothing, he placed an arm over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. you've been through worse situations than this, but you were highly uncomfortable having your boundaries crossed.

bucky wouldn't do something like this. how did sam think that any of his behaviour was similar to him?

martin already had his phone out, capturing pictures and squeezing your arm, when you decided that this isn't what you wanted, but before you could open your mouth, you felt someone pulling his arm off of you, causing martin to scream.

“what is wrong with you!?” martin shouted, standing up and stepping away while he held his aching arm. when you turned around, you felt your heart stop to find the person you least expected to be here, but wanted the most to be with.

“bucky?”

he did not look at you, his eyes still fixated on martin, nostrils flaring as he took a step closer, standing in front of you as if he was shielding you, while martin took the same amount of steps backwards. “she clearly said no. what the fuck was so hard about understanding that?”

“look, man, i don't know what you're doing here, but i think this is between me and her,” he said, his eyes showing fear as he watched the ex-assassin approach him, hearing the gears of his metal arm whirring.

“give me your phone.” bucky ordered. “now.”

martin immediately fished for his phone, nearly dropping it, and gave it to bucky. “w-what are you going to do?”

“no, this is what you're gonna do,” bucky started, crashing martin's phone with ease and carelessly throwing it to the side. “this date never happened, your friends will hear nothing about tonight, and you will get out of here before i finish counting to three. one...”

in a snap, martin was already out of your sight. if you hadn't known martin before this, you would think he idolised pietro with the way he ran so fast.

“are you okay?”

forgetting about bucky for a split second, his voice jolted you out of your thoughts. you looked up, your heart racing, to find him right in front you.

“what are you doing here?”

“that doesn't really answer my question, doll. answer mine first, will ya? then i'll answer yours.”

“i'm okay, but i can take care of myself. you didn't have to scare the guy.” you sighed, trying your best to look displeased when in fact this has been the happiest you've been tonight. “so? why are you here?”

“well, it's really hard to explain...”

“you better try, barnes, because i am very confused right now,” you said. “one moment i'm on a date with someone, then suddenly my teammate, who i told nothing about said date, appears and crushes the phone of the guy i'm with?”

“natasha told me about it.”

you frowned, not surprised with natasha's gossipy nature, but confused about what she could've said that made him go all the way here.

“i was looking for you since you're always with us during dinner, and nat told me that you were on a date. i couldn't help but ask where and with whom, but she said that she had no idea, that it was a blind date. she was more than glad to tell me where you were, so i came here looking for you.”

“why?” you asked, confused and suddenly hopeful at the same time. although, you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to set yourself up for a heartbreak.

“what do you mean why? that's it. i was just worried, and now you're okay. can we go home?”

he turned his back on you and walked away, you were quick enough follow him, still unsatisfied with his answer.

once you've reached a dark alley where he had his motorcycle parked, you sighed and decided to ask one more time.

“what are you actually doing here, barnes?” you asked. “i want an actual answer or i'm walking home.”

“it doesn't matter,” bucky answered shortly, frustration. written on his face. “why did you agree to this anyway? doesn't feel like something you'd do.”

“you have no idea about what i feel and what i want to do,” you answered. “and you still haven't answered my question.”

“i don't know, okay? i don't know. i just..” he sighed. “i heard the word date and everything didn't make sense. all i knew was that i wanted to follow you here and stop whatever you were doing. i didn't like it.”

“what gives you the right to stop me from going on a date?” you asked, your head jerked back in disbelief. “and why would it even bother you? this is the first time someone went on a date in the team. so what makes mine so different?”

“what do you think?” he asked, his gaze challenging and curious, waiting for your response.

you stood in silence, his question causing a sudden drift in the conversation. you could feel the tension in the air.

“sam made me go to a blind date as well,” he spoke again. “i just remembered that he was asking me where i'd take someone on a date. days after that, he said he found a girl that i might like, and that i should go on a date with her, he suggested that it should be a blind date, knowing that i'm an avenger and all.”

“why didn't you go?”

“i couldn't. i wasn't interested. i knew it wouldn't work.”

“why?”

“because i already like someone.”

your heart sank, a lump forming in your throat as the reality set in that the person you've been pining for was already interested in someone else.

so much for going on a date to forget about him.

“what about you?” he asked. “why did you go?”

because of you, you idiot.

“trying to get over someone,” you simply answered.

“you were seeing someone?” he asked, completely clueless, but suddenly looking uneasy. “i never knew you were in a relationship. i guess, we're not that close, but i thought i'd at least know abou—”

“what? no!” you replied, voice rising as you spoke. "god, i agreed to this date because i wanted to get over you!"

the words slipped out of your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise as you accidentally reveal the feelings you had kept hidden.

bucky blinked, silence hanging in the air. the confession felt heavy between you as you waited for his response.

“i didn't agree to going on a blind date because i have feelings you,” bucky finally spoke, taking a deep breath before continuing, “because i knew i wouldn't enjoy it knowing i'd be thinking of you anyway, because as convinced as i was that you had no interest in me, i'd rather keep my eyes on you than on anybody else.”

“wait, wait, what? you like me?” you repeated in a slightly disbelieving tone, searching his face for confirmation.

“why would i follow you all the way here if i didn't?”

“because you care? and it might be dangerous to go on a date with someone i've never met?” you guessed. “i mean, i think you'd also do it for everybody else, as grumpy as you look like on the outside, you can be a softie sometimes.”

“if i had no feelings for you, i wouldn't be here. you're an avenger for christ's sake. some random guy would be like a training dummy for you,” he answered. “and no, i wouldn't be doing this for anybody else. if the situation's that dangerous, maybe, but a date? you're all adults. you know what you're doing.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his answer, which earned you a glare from him. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head. “you sound like an old man lecturing the younger generation.”

“are we completely ignoring the fact that we like each other?”

“that's the only thing on my mind right now.” you admitted. “are you sure about what you just said? it could be the hunger talking.”

instead of answering, bucky took his phone out of his pocket, swiping and tapping on it a few times before taking your hand and placing it on your palm.

“what am i supposed to—”

“just read it.”

choosing not to argue with him, you grabbed the phone with a frown. his messages with natasha were on the screen, starting from their messages from nearly four months ago. you scrolled through their messages, and while they lasted for months, they were all short and straightforward.

three months ago

bucky:

did you arrive safely?

romanoff:

since when did you start asking?

bucky:

?

romanoff:

yes, we arrived safely.

bucky:

👍🏻

romanoff:

really???

two months ago

bucky:

is she okay?

romanoff:

ohhh, that's why you keep texting.

bucky:

answer

romanoff:

geez, barnes.

yeah, she's okay.

bucky:

ok

one month ago

bucky:

she's sick?

romanoff:

yeah, wanna visit her?

you're basically immune.

bucky:

i have a mission

romanoff:

oh yeah

oops

bucky:

are you busy?

romanoff:

nope

why?

bucky:

take my place

romanoff:

no thanks, barnes.

bucky:

i'll take your next task

and the next one as well

romanoff:

why can't you just take this one?

bucky:

nothing

romanoff:

a reason or i'm not doing it.

bucky:

she's sick

i want to stay

romanoff:

oh my god

you're such a sap

fine i'll talk to steve

bucky:

ty

romanoff:

you're using abbreviations now???

bucky:

👍🏻

one week ago

romanoff:

movie night later, don't ditch us again

bucky:

busy

romanoff:

she planned this one

she's worried you won't come

bucky:

i'll bring snacks

romanoff:

i love knowing your weakness

bring popcorn!

bucky:

she prefers pizza over popcorn

does she like popcorn?

romanoff:

nope, but some of us do.

bucky:

ok

romanoff:

so you're bringing popcorn?

bucky:

no

once you were done reading, you returned his phone back to his hand. “you do like me,” you said, the confession finally sinking in.

bucky nodded. “and you like me too.”

“where does that leave us?” you asked, hoping. “are we.. dating now?”

“no,” he answered quickly.

you felt that ache returning in your chest, but before you could say something, bucky already sensed your worries and he wasn't letting you slip away that easily.

“no because i want to do this right. i want to take you out on a date first, bring you flowers, play music and ask you for a dance, all that stuff that you deserve,” he explained, bringing his warm hand to your cheek. “but trust me that it won't take long before i call you mine. i don't think i have the patience for it at this point.”

“you promise?” you rose to your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around him. “i don't want to wait that long either.”

“you won't,” he replied, leaning into you, his lips brushing against your nose before pulling you in a kiss. “i promise.”

this was supposed to have a lil bonus when they got back to the tower, revealing the team's true involvement with the blind date, buttt i might just do it some other time as a snippet/part 2 instead. i still have a few to write anyway, woops.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[takes1]

Hi. Could you do a Kuroo x reader? She’s Nekoma’s manager and she collapsed during practice and has to have emergency surgery? Kuroo has had a crush on her for a while and Kenma is tired of him dancing around it?

prayyyying you like this one. because this felt incredibly niche, but i know u a real one so that's why it got done. also: i've got some experience with dehydration, and found it an easier plot device, so i just went with that. i feel like i hit all the beats regardless?

warnings. injury/blood/hospitals, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / very angsty, then fluff / hurt-comfort fic / manager!reader / pining!kuroo / kuroo crushing on you / reader gets hurt trope / kuroo has to deal with big feelings / kenma is a great friend and wingman / nervous!kuroo / confession fic / flirty!kuroo but it's not the focus / 2.8k words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. my imagines. requests open.

The heat was getting to you.

You were slower, quieter, and had to pause often to catch your breath after standing up.

After carrying a case of water across the gym, your vision was getting splotchy again, and you placed a heavy hand on the wall. It was a nice, quiet, empty corner of the crowded gymnasium.

Kuroo had been watching your heavy-footed shuffle to the door ever since you dropped it off to Nekoma's distracted, tired players.

You had been less vocal, less silly, the way he liked to talk to you.

He called to you, thanking you, but you didn't hear him.

Your breathing was horribly loud in your own ears. Real ragged and difficult to just inhale. Your heartbeat was pounding against the sides of your head, adding to your near-permanent headache. The grip on the wall slipped, thanks to your sweaty palm, and you doubled forward.

The room started to spin as you did so.

"(Y/n)!"

"Woah-woahwoah!!"

Kuroo didn't wait to just standby, to watch you collapse. He was already moving when you didn't answer him. He just had too much distance to cover before your limp body smacked the hardwood floor.

He was first to get you by a mile-- he rolled you over and flinched at the sight of blood from where your head hit the floor.

"Coach!! Hospital!!"

It started an echo, and a lot of quieter questions. Coach Naoi was sprinting over as Kuroo, scared but steady with adrenaline, pulled off his jersey to put pressure on the gash.

"Ice!" He swallowed the wobble in his throat, "I need some fucking ice- somebody get ice!"

The matches on the far side of the gym were not effected, but one closest had to be paused because of so much confusion.

About five guys, some from Nekoma, some from Karasuno, were ready with ice in 20 seconds. Your eyes were a little bit open, you were breathing, but were otherwise unresponsive. Not even a gasp at the cold.

There was only so much room in the car. The whole team wanted to come with, but only Coach Naoi, Kuroo, and Kenma were able to.

"Back up- Back up!" Kuroo barked at the growing crowd around you as he took you in his arms to carry you outside.

Coach Naoi had the car as close as he could get it; Kenma sat in the front seat, giving him directions, while Kuroo kept your head supported in the backseat, careful to keep pressure on you. Kenma passed him the extra ice bags he managed to stuff in his bag last-minute.

Having to sit in the waiting room was much worse than holding you.

At least, back at the training camp, or in the backseat of the car, he knew he could have an active role in getting you better, if he could see you, touch you.

Their trio sat in limbo, waiting for any news.

Naoi glanced down at the incessant tapping sound. His sigh was short and bothered.

"She'll be okay."

Kuroo made no indication that he heard him, nor that he cared. His heel kept thudding and his knuckles stayed white, gripped to the sides of his arms.

"Kuroo- I'm sure she'll be okay. I've seen worse. They'll get her up, they'll get her hydrated."

It was quiet, except for the sound. Kenma scrolled through the digital schedule they had all received of the training camp, trying to answer his own questions: How had it spiraled to this level? They didn't see you as often as each other, and somewhere along the line, they lost accountability of your health.

"'S'been 40 minutes," Kuroo immediately regretted saying anything, because now he felt nauseous.

Naoi cleared his throat.

"She's probably got rhabdo. When you get that dehydrated for that long, your veins are harder to stick an IV in. It's got something to do with that, I'm sure."

Their assistant coach seemed like he understood what was going on. Kuroo looked down at his own forearms, and for a moment, his foot stopped tapping. Naoi's face lightened with a longer, softer sigh.

His veins looked as plump as ever. He squeezed his cold, shaky fingers and watched how it changed the muscle under the skin.

The door opened and his head shot right up.

He was first to stand, first to go through the doors, trailing a little too close behind the aggravatingly slow nurse.

As they navigated the winding, twisting hallways, he was living in the past, wishing, he had said something about his feelings sooner.

He saw you every day. Multiple times a day. He could name 300 instances where he could have told you he liked you, and still didn't. He thought he would have all the time in the world to. But you were on the ground in seconds, and it was suddenly ripped away, an option he might never have again.

Why would he ever assume it was just something he'd always be able to? That you'd always be around?

They pulled up two chairs next to the hospital bed, sitting as close as possible without getting in the mess of wires on the floor. Some were connected to you, some not. Kuroo paid close mind to the IV in your arm, the clear bag hanging- he glanced to your vitals on the monitor many times.

You looked not great, but way, way better. He took what felt like his first breath in two hours. He prayed Kenma and Coach Naoi would never mention -better yet, forget- his intense, and ugly panic attack in the car.

You were looking at the needle in your arm, too. Sleepy, and slow.

"How are you feeling?" Kenma asked, just before he could.

There was no rush to his words. It was for the best. If Kuroo had asked, it would have sounded interrogative.

You smiled, a precious sight for him, "Uh... really gross."

They laughed, but it was more at the opportunity, in relief, that you were speaking and aware, again.

Coach Naoi's voice could be heard just outside. You turned your head to see him carrying a clipboard with some paperwork to fill out. He thanked the nurse at the doorway and entered, wagging his finger at you.

"You're a lot of trouble, you know that?"

Your frown wasn't the reaction he was after. He patted your ankle, good-natured, with his signature smile that made everyone feel a little better.

"I'm jokin', kid," He chuckled, taking the pen to scribble some information down.

"They'll have you out of here after you get through two of those. If you look good to go, that is."

'Those' must've been referring to the bags of fluid getting pumped into you.

"No stitches, either," He drawled, halfway distracted by his writing, with just a small glance to the tape and bandaging on your forehead, "That's good, that's goood,"

He furrowed his brows, squinting at the third, then fifth page. A silly moment of quiet.

"Alright, uhh, I'm gonna go finish this b.s. out there. Keep her awake, fellas."

"Will do."

"Thanks, Coach."

Your headache kept you feeling fuzzy. You assumed you hit your head at some point, thanks to the bandages and how Naoi alluded to it, but you still weren't sure how, or when.

Kenma filled the momentary quiet.

"So, what happened?"

Again, it felt like you were guessing, trying to piece odd fractions of an incomplete puzzle together. The last three days of the training camp were beyond busy on the admin side. You had your own training to keep up with. Things had gotten away from you.

It was a struggle to get your words out. You looked mostly at Kenma, because he looked like he actually wanted to know- Kuroo looked like he was waiting to interject.

"I guess-... um, I haven't eaten, in a while--"

Kuroo looked completely beside himself. His anger was out of place over his usually calm, collected features.

"Why-wh-what-?! Why not? Why would you not eat when you--?"

"Kuro," Kenma pushed on his forearm.

One look told him to back off- he was being way too loud, way too much, way too emotional. Your passive, ghostly voice was only scaring him more.

His nostrils flared. A big, shaky sigh- he had to stand up, pace around in a circle, and rub his neck.

The fear screwing up his brow, tightening his jaw, glossing over in his eyes, was brand new. You didn't know that he was capable of a volume, like that. It made you feel horribly guilty for what was an honest, albeit stupid, mistake.

Kenma watched him walk out, angrily wiping his eyes.

It was quiet again for a few minutes.

"He cares," Kenma lightened your dark spiral with just a couple of words.

All you felt was frustration. It hurt to speak, and more-so to think hard enough to explain yourself. His demands were out of your range of abilities at the moment, and he was somehow dissatisfied? After all the work you had been putting in for the team, you halfway felt like you didn't owe them anything at all.

"I wish he wouldn't sound so angry about it," You muttered.

A light shiver at the cool sensation pooling in your forearm, and you were meeting Kenma's downcast eyes again, with a feeling that you, somehow, said something wrong.

"He carried you out."

Shock hit you in big wave of nausea. You swallowed, dry. You didn't remember that at all, and could only speculate how scared everyone must've been.

What could you even say to that? This was all a big, stupid, accident that too many people were concerning themselves with. The guilt was so thick that you were wishing he would walk back in, so you could apologize.

A lighter, shakier tone this time, "I'll- make sure to tell him thanks."

Kenma looked like he had more to say, something on his mind, but only gave you a hesitant sigh to work with. His company was enough. Thanks to the IV and the medication, you were feeling better, so you tried to lay back, close your eyes, and enjoy it in silence.

He let you rest for 10 minutes, squeezing your shoulder every once in a while for a reaction, to make sure you were awake.

Kuroo was generally very sweet to you, and you thought you had a good rapport, but nothing tangible enough to get him this upset. You chalked it up to whatever happened while you were out of it.

When he returned, you were on your last bag of fluids. Kenma had his Switch with him, so you were watching him play, giggly, and in better spirits.

It must've been a cosmic-like trade, because he looked like a wreck duct-taped back together. You tried not to stare.

"Kuro, take my seat--,"

He threw him a look. Kenma explained as he stood up, "Dude I gotta pee, I'll be right back."

They linked arms. You couldn't hear what was said, but you did watch, as Kuroo leaned down to listen to Kenma, telling him something quietly, in his ear. You desperately hoped it wasn't about you, but knew deep down that it was wishful thinking.

In his friend's absence, he sat, unsure, of what to say, or what to do. His eyes were dry from his second, thankfully less intense, episode in the bathroom down the hall.

Part of him didn't realize the extent of how much he cared about you, until there was a reason to.

Kuroo tried to hand you the Switch. It was halfway an attempt at conversation, halfway an apology. It begged something to be done, or said, at least.

You shook your head and made your best effort to be kind about it, "No, thanks."

It was impossible to look him in the face, "I'm not as good as Kenma. Wouldn't be very fun."

He chuckled, but it sounded sad, and only existed on the basis of filling empty space.

Odd, unnatural, mutual silence. You glanced at each other. Neither able to address it or ignore it enough to talk about anything else.

He was biting the inside of his cheek, looking around the room, every exhale sounding like a soft sigh.

"Kenma told me that-," You cleared your throat, "Uh- you, carried me."

When he looked at you, it was filled with an attachment you had not been conscious for. You faltered under the sudden pressure, tired heart picking back up again.

"Thank you. I'm sure it was hard."

His brow furrowed as he, first, took you literally- after he realized you meant it as a concept, or maybe emotionally, he smirked. He tilted his head a little, like he always did before he teased you.

"Well, you know I work out, right?"

A genuine laugh left your lips. His goofy, disarming humor so ill-timed, but so desperately needed.

He smiled at you, soft, and comfortable again.

"You know what I mean," Was a familiar groan that he loved generating.

"Yeah- yeah, I know," He moved to place the Switch in the empty chair next to him, and was reminded that he only had a short time alone with you. His hand lingered in the space above it, just for a second, enough for him to make up his mind.

You jumped a little at the warmth and weight of his palm in yours.

"It was."

Kuroo didn't look you all-over like you did to him; you were trying to find the joke, or the punchline, in his body language, but he kept his sincerity incredibly clear and unwavering.

His thumb rubbed, light, against your skin.

You looked down at your joined hands, panicked, chills all over your body, "Kuroo-?"

"I know this isn't a great time, but I realized-- I-I shouldn't keep waiting around, for nothing, like I was. We could die tomorrow, so like- what's the point? You know?"

You adjusted to sit up straight, getting warmer, a little dizzy, at his words.

"I-h," He looked at you one last time, taking in the shock on your brow, the slack in your jaw, and knew he shouldn't stop talking, because he'd never be able to start it up again if he did.

"I really like you. I tried to wait for it to go away. Then, I just... didn't want it to."

This smooth-talking, silly, composed guy was falling apart, piece by piece. You didn't realize his super-nice demeanor had anything to do with a crush, but hindsight as it is, found your obliviousness a little embarrassing, now.

Your voice failed you, "You've had a cr-ush on me?"

He snorted at your voice crack, but looked no less infatuated. His other hand was pushing back some hair from your face.

"For a long time."

DING DING, DING DING, DING DING--

You yelped at how loud the alarm was, right next to your head, and how serious it sounded.

A very high, constant ring came from something electronic that you were hooked up to. The source was ambiguous and reason to be very concerned.

Kuroo had a better view of the screen. As you craned, shaky and weak, to see, he squeezed your hand.

His laugh helped to calm you down, "It's just your heart rate."

"One-fifty," He trailed, his pretty, proud grin audible, "Nice."

A nurse rushed in, followed immediately by your coach, then Kenma- you were quick to try and demonstrate that you were fine, but there were not many methods at your disposal, other than waving your free hand.

"I'm okay! I'm- I'm just nervous."

You shared a glance with Kuroo.

It was impossible to keep either of your laughs down once he started giggling.

The nurse could tell what was up immediately-- she muted the machine with a half-concealed smile, then left when she saw you still had some more to go with the IV.

Naoi was a little more clueless, but saw your hands, and made it his business to not know what was going on by taking his own leave. One tiny look told Kuroo everything as he turned- the good, old, 'keep it professional' look.

Kenma stayed, waiting with arms crossed, until it was just you three again, and spoke over your nonstop giggling.

"I told you so."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu. (new) my imagines. requests open.

[destinedfordiapers]

No One Mourns The Wicked

This story is set in the Your Change of Plans universe. So read that first. Or don’t. Either way.

I’ll be honest. When Claire’s parents first told me they were sending her to the Little’s Program™️, I tried my best to stop them.

In my defense, Claire was beautiful and who wants to date a girl in diapers?

I mean, sure, she was stuck-up, shallow, and superficial. And yeah, she thought she was the Queen Bee wearing designer clothes and ruthlessly controlling our friend group.

She was a mean girl. Think Regina George. That kind of girl.

But now that I see her, stripped from her fancy, expensive clothes and attitude wearing that adorable diaper—I can’t help but agree it’s for the best.

“Awww, Clairebear! Don’t be shy!!! It’s just me!”

As you can see, Claire hid her face in her stuffies, too embarrassed to respond.

“Claire, honey,” her mom says, “Ryan came all this way to see you. We don’t ignore our guests, do we?”

A few weeks ago, Claire would’ve bit her mom’s head off for talking to her like that.

But now look at her.

Her mom turns to me, smiling. “She might need a few minutes to warm up to you. She’s still adjusting to her new life.”

Claire digs her face further into her stuffies, whimpering.

“It’s okay, I’m sure it’s a big transition for her. I mean, she did go from Prada to Pampers! Gucci to Gerber! Cartier to cribs! But she’s just so cute in that diaper!”

“Well she does have the best diapers on the market! Only the best for Claire,” her mom says, “Plus she’s been much better behaved since she got back. Sure, she still throws tantrums—all Littles do!—but now they’re about not wanting her poopy diaper changed instead of throwing a fit because we got her the wrong Hermes bag!”

“Now that is something I gotta see! Clairebear throwing a tantrum in a poopy diaper?! How cute is that?”

More whimpers from Claire.

“Well, you’re in luck! She’s past due for her afternoon boom boom. She usually goes during her nap but not today. Should be any minute!”

She pats Claire’s diaper playfully.

“It’s just so crazy,” I say astonished, “Claire poops her diapers now.”

“Yep, the Littles Center recommended the full package to fix her attitude after meeting Claire. Complete unpotty-training, inability to orgasm, and strict reliance on the Littles Center’s special baby formula. She can’t eat any adult food without getting an icky tummy!”

“Well, judging by the fact I haven’t heard Claire talk back at all, I’d say it’s working!”

“Like a charm! She did have a meltdown after we gave her fancy clothes to her cousins, but Littles don’t need fancy clothes, do they Claire?”

“M-maawmmmyyyyy,” Claire lisp’s adorably.

“Sorry, honey, but you need onesies and diapers! And I almost forgot, Claire also got the Babble Package™️, so she sounds just like a toddler! How cute is that?”

“I na a tawdwa!!” Claire shrieks.

It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.

“Of course you’re not,” I coo, “You’re our Clairebear!”

Claire’s mom smiles, “Well, why don’t I leave you two alone so you can catch up. Let me know if she makes a poopy!”

Claire moans again.

For the first time since her regression, I’m alone with Claire.

It’s strange, seeing her there in her diaper, completely docile. Nothing like the bossy, sexy woman she used to be.

I sit on the bed next to her, rubbing her shoulder. “Hey, Clairebear.”

She lifts her head from her stuffies. “H-hi Wyan.” Hearing herself she hides her head again.

Doing my best not to laugh, I push forward. “Don’t be embarrassed, sweetie. Not with me. You know I love you. Even if things are different.”

Hearing the “I love you,” Claire immediately turns around. “P-pwomith?”

“Yes, Claire, I promise.”

For the first time since I got there, Claire smiled and sat up against her pillows.

“Is this your stuffy?”

“Mhm! It’s Wy-Wy Dog!” she says excitedly, showing me her stuffed dog.

“Awww, did you name him after me?”

“Yeah!” she says, blushing a bit.

“Well I think he’s the cutest little stuffy in the whole world!”

Her smile fades slightly. “Don wan stuffies, wan you!”

I sigh. I knew it would come to this eventually. I wasn’t lying, I did love her. But I can’t date a Little. I need a woman, not a pamper packer.

“Clairebear, I love you, I really do. But you’re…you’re a Little now. It’s not appropriate for you to be in an adult relationship anymore.”

“Buh, buh!” she starts, stomping her hands and feet, “Na fawr!!! I you guwlfwien!!!”

As I look into her eyes, I no longer see the sophisticated, sexy woman she used to be. Whatever she used to be, whatever fun we used to have, a distant memory.

“Sorry, little one. I need a woman—an adult—and you’re not that anymore. You’re not even potty trained, it’s just not meant to be. Maybe you’ll find a nice guy at daycare!”

I knew I went too far right away. The tantrum started right away.

“NOOOOO!” she shouted, kicking her feet more than ever! Na a baby! Na na na!”

The kicking of her feet caused an immediate reaction. Her screaming suddenly stopped as her eyes grew wide.

“What’s wrong, honey?” I ask before a grunt answers my question.

A loud, bubbly toot trumpets out of her diaper, leaving no ambiguity of what’s happening. Her eyes furrow in concentration at the task at hand.

Her diaper expands rapidly as she grunts. Her eyes still unfocused as she works to fill her diaper.

All I can do is watch as the woman I once revered poops her diaper in front of me, no different from an actual toddler.

Well, I guess she basically is a toddler now.

After a few bubbly toots, her grunting stops. Though the smell immediately attacks my nose, barely mitigated by the baby powder in her diaper.

“Did someone just make a poopoo?” I ask in a babyish voice. I couldn’t help myself. It was instinctual.

It’s just how you talk to pamper packers.

“No poopies!” she shrieks, legs kicking again. Her diaper swaying dangerously.

“Are you sure about that, little one?”

“I didn’! You did!” she squeals, trying to kick me.

“Excuse me, Claire? This is not how a Little should behave! You do not fib about your diaper and you definitely do not try to kick adults!”

“Don care! Na baby!!”

“If you keep acting like this you’re gonna learn what happens to misbehaving Littles. I’ll give you one more chance before you end up on my lap.”

I almost felt bad. The last thing I did was want to cause Claire to throw a tantrum. But here we are.

“You na my mawmy! You dum baby too!” she retorted, still trying to kick me.

“No, but I am,” her mom says walking in, “I could hear your tantrum all the way down the hall! Were you trying to kick Ryan?”

Claire’s eyes grew wide. “I-I-I b-but!!”

“We do not kick our babysitters, do you understand me?” her mom said in that deeply maternal voice you hear when you’re in trouble.

In a flash, Claire’s mom is sitting on the bed, pulling her kicking and screaming Little on her lap.

Claire’s diaper is already browning, bulging under the weight of its contents.

She turns to me and says over Claire’s whining, “I’m sorry, Ryan. I did warn you about her poopy diaper tantrums! I’ll take care of this one, are you still on to babysit her Friday night?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Great, you go on, I’ll see you then. I have to teach this little one some manners.”

As I walk out, I hear SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

I may have lost my girlfriend, but I can’t argue this isn’t for the best.

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 3)

Agatha and you have a talk about the future

Word count: 4k

Warnings: 69, oral, smut, angst (hopefully not as much), why would you ever talk about feelings/problems when you could just fuck instead

“What? What part?” you ask, your voice sounding unfamiliar to your own ears. “If it’s the City, it’s fine, that’s not far away, you could even stay here.” 

Agatha purses her lips. “It’s in Albany.” 

Your stomach drops. Two hours away by car on a good day, about four by train. Agatha has a pitiful look on her face and you want to scoff. 

Of course she’s feeling sorry for you. 

“Honey,” she starts, cool and calm as ever and it makes you fucking enraged. She reaches out to touch you again — why does she keep trying to do that? why doesn’t she realize that she isn’t going to fix anything? — but you shove her aside and scramble off the couch, beginning to pace with your head in your hands. 

Is this better than the affair? She still lied to you. She still didn’t tell you about it, she’s still looking to get out. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you demand, pausing to look at her. 

Her jaw tightens. “I didn’t — I didn’t want to before it got real. I wasn’t even sure I was going to go, but my friend reached out and it’s a really good opportunity. The company took me out to dinner last night as an informal interview and I ended up staying the night. I didn’t think you’d come here, I thought you were mad at me or something. Baby, I was really worried about you.” 

In any other situation, you’d feel touched by her concern, but it really just pisses you off even more. This isn’t about you. “I thought you were having an affair,” you say again and her face falls. 

“I would never—”

You don’t even want to hear it. “Look, don’t change the subject, okay? The point is, you did this huge thing without even telling me and now — what? You’re moving to New York?” 

Now she seems unable to meet your eyes, an uncharacteristic shyness radiating off her. “I haven’t even gotten the job yet.”

Your mind starts to whirl with the possibilities. “If you get it, are you going to take it?” 

There’s a thick silence that hangs over you two for a moment and you can see the vein in her forehead pulse as she thinks about it. But her hesitation is all the answer you need. 

“Okay,” you breathe. You don’t even know where your head is at — you’re so fucking mad, but you’re also so relieved that she isn’t cheating, but then now there’s this wrench that could possibly mean the end of things. You’re not going to let that happen. Dropping to your knees in front of her and finally touching her of your own accord with your palms flat on her legs, you earnestly look at her. “We can…we can figure it out, we will figure it out. I can come down on the weekends or you can come here or — I can transfer! I’ll transfer to somewhere in New York and we can get an apartment, just the two of us, and obviously I won’t be much help with the rent because it’s expensive as shit there—”

Agatha pulls you up by your cheeks and kisses you, effectively shutting you up. You lose yourself in the feeling of her lips against yours and you moan softly, everything slipping away for just a moment. In these five seconds, it’s just the two of you and nothing else can come between you. 

But then she breaks away and sighs heavily, resting her forehead against yours. “You just started school here,” she says gently. “I can’t make you give that up. Don’t you like it?”

You shrug lazily. “It’s the first week. I’m not too attached. I’m sure somewhere there will be just as good.” 

“What about your parents? What would you tell them?” 

Why does it feel like she doesn’t want you there? You can’t help the frown tugging on your lips. “I’ll just say that I don’t like it at Westview. I’m sure I can come up with something. They’ll just want me to be happy.” Agatha makes you happy, but there’s a flicker of doubt growing in your stomach.

She cups your cheek and leans back so you’re able to see her eyes. They’re blue as the ocean, full of emotion, and glassy. “Why don’t you give it a few months, hm? I don’t want you to throw away your school and your family just for me. If you really don’t like it, then we can talk.”

“What if I just drop out of school and become your trophy wife? I’ll be such a good one, I’d wear nothing but an apron all day and make your favorite foods and then I can sit on your strap while you eat dinner.” You play it off like a joke, but deep down, you would be more than willing. You hope she says yes. 

Agatha huffs out a laugh and sniffs, tracing a finger down the skin of your face like she’s trying to memorize it. “Wear a short little maid outfit that just happens to ride up and show off your bare cunt when you’re on your knees cleaning the floor?” 

You hum and close your eyes in pure bliss at the thought. “See, now you get it. It would be so perfect, right? 

“So perfect,” she agrees, but her smile lingers until it’s wistful. There’s a longing pang inside you, one that threatens to tear you open, but you push it down. “I know I haven’t gotten it yet, but I won’t take it,” she says quietly after a moment and your brows furrow in confusion. “If you don’t want me to take it, I won’t.” 

Every single morsel of your body is screaming for you to ask her to stay. It would be so easy, and then you could just pretend that none of this — the suspicion, the lies, the sneaking around — never happened. Everything could go back to the way it was before. 

But the slightest fear that she would start to resent you for it creeps into the back of your mind. Sure, she might not mind at first, but over time when her job here gets old and she’s unhappy, she’s going to blame you. She’s going to start to hate you for holding her back, and what if you’re not worth it? 

The last thought hits you like a punch to the gut. Are you enough to keep her content if she stays? Are you enough to keep her happy? 

You’re paralyzed and she’s looking at you expectantly, like it’s an easy fucking decision. You want to complain that it’s not fair for her to put this on you, that she should want to be with you so badly that she willingly gives up the new position for you, but maybe she’s having the same doubts.

The only thing you know is that you don’t want to end up like your parents, with a loveless marriage and a cold, empty house despite the family living in it and the bitter silence of words left unsaid haunting every moment. You don’t want this to become an open wound that festers until Agatha hates you for it. 

“If it’s a better job and if you want it, you should take it,” you say, almost surprised by how eerily calm your voice sounds. 

Agatha looks taken aback for just the slightest moment but nods. “You’re sure?” 

No! Stay with me! I fucking love you! 

“Yeah,” you rasp and she bends down to kiss you again, so sweetly that it hurts. She murmurs something against your lips but you don’t even think to ask what she says because you can’t stop the nausea climbing up your throat. 

You jump back and run to the bathroom before vomiting in the toilet. You sink to the floor, shaking and sweating and trembling, and you’re vaguely aware of Agatha’s hands in your hair, holding it back, and telling you that everything is going to be alright. Is it?

She gets a wet washcloth and holds it against your head while you don’t move from your position, waiting to see if you have to puke again. 

“Had too much to drink last night,” you mutter, feeling like you’re drunk all over again, when she asks if you’re feeling okay. “Thought you were cheating.”  

You hear a heavy sigh behind you and tears prick your eyes. Is she disappointed? Does she think you’re being just a stupid kid? “I wouldn’t, honey. I wouldn’t do that. I promise. I—” She stops and strokes your hair instead.

It feels like there’s something she’s not saying, but maybe you’re just reading into it. 

And then there’s your I love you while she was fucking you, still fresh in your mind. Do you say it again? Do you ask if she heard it? Or just wait until she says it first?

If she does. You can’t get these stupid insecurities and doubts out of your mind and it’s killing you. 

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up again?” she asks gently and you shake your head. “Come on, why don’t we get you into the shower and then into bed?”

You want to protest just to be petulant, but you’re just so fucking tired. “Okay, mommy,” you say and she sharply inhales, but pretends to be unaffected. Good to know that you can still get to her after you look like you’ve just been through hell. 

She turns the water on and you numbly wait until she guides you up and helps you undress before you step into the shower. You almost buckle to the ground but Agatha holds you up, the sleeves of her blazer getting soaked, but she doesn’t even notice it. 

It’s an awkward position, her on the outside of the tub and you barely standing up inside it, but she rubs your skin and you slowly feel warmth returning to your body. 

You’re about to ask if she’ll get in with you — you see the way she can’t stop looking at your tits and you’re suddenly longing to feel her on you, a reminder that she is yours — when a phone rings. 

Definitely not yours; your phone is always on silent. 

Agatha curses and tells you she’ll be right back before disappearing from the bathroom. The cold feeling starts to grow back in your stomach, creeping up to your throat and gripping tightly. 

“Yes — this is she!” you hear her say from the other room, her voice getting louder as she comes back into the bathroom. You look at her with wide eyes and she gives you a tight smile. “Oh, I did? Well, thank you very much, that is wonderful news.”

The person on the other line starts talking and you can only catch quick muffles of it, but from Agatha’s face, you already know. 

“Of course, yes, hang on just one second,” she says and presses her phone against her shoulder to give you her full attention. Eye contact with her feels like a stab to the gut. “Honey, are you sure you’re okay with this? You can say no.” 

Can you? 

It’s on the tip of your tongue — it would be so easy to ask her to turn it down, so easy to ask her to choose you. She’s waiting for an answer but each drop of water on your skin feels like a chant: no. no. no. You know Agatha’s trying to remain neutral, but you can tell she wants the job, by the way she’s twitching her fingers and the barely concealed pleading look on her face and the way she’s holding her phone so tightly it’s making her veins pop out all bluish and purplish. 

It’s clear that you cannot say no. 

You’re not sure she would ever forgive you, and you’re not sure you would ever forgive yourself. You can’t ask her to throw away this opportunity, not for you. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you say hoarsely, feeling a lot like you just signed a death warrant. 

But plenty of people do long distance, and two hours really isn’t that bad. Plus it just means that with all the waiting, the sex will be even hotter. Her moving away doesn’t mean anything. 

And you can transfer at the end of the semester, so really you just have to make it a few months. 

Agatha’s beam is one of pure gratitude and you know you made the right choice, but she’s back to talking on the phone and your little moment is interrupted. “Oh…two weeks? Of course, I can totally do that.” 

A flash of panic bolts through you and you mouth two weeks? at her. She purses her lips and shrugs apologetically, like that’s supposed to make you feel better. 

The rest of her phone call is blurred out by your sudden inability to hear anything but the rush of the water that has suddenly become so loud it’s taken over all your thoughts and you don’t even realize that she’s hung up and cleaned you off and gotten you out of the shower until you’re shivering and naked and Agatha’s wrapping a towel around you. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” she murmurs because you’re now uncontrollably shaking and you think you might be crying a little. “Everything’s going to be okay.” She presses kisses to your forehead and cheeks and nose, muttering the same sort of sentients, while the towel around you slips to the floor when you throw your arms around her and cling to her like she’s your lifeline, like she’s everything you’ll ever need, and she holds you back so tightly you think you might fuse into one being. 

The two of you stand there like that until your skin gets clammy and pruney and your eyes are raw. When you finally pull back, your muscles ache and the front of Agatha’s clothes are absolutely soaked, so you tug on them until she gets the message and begins to strip. 

Her blazer comes off, and then she untucks her blouse from her pants and slowly begins to unbutton it, each time revealing more of her perfect pale skin. You can see the faint outlines of her ribs and then her stomach, the red bites from two days ago still there, albeit faded. 

There’s no mistaking the “M” though. A hot thrill runs through you despite the solemn air between you and a fire starts to flicker to life in your stomach. You reach out to trace your mark as if in a trance and Agatha’s breath hitches. 

Swallowing roughly, your eyes dart up to meet her already-dark ones. “We should talk about the job, right? Figure out what it means for us?” you ask, but even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel the atmosphere shift into something else. 

“Right,” Agatha nods, but she can’t stop looking down at your pebbled nipples — from the cold or from her? 

When she surges forward, clasps your cheeks, and pulls your mouth to hers, you know that it’s both. The kiss is messy, teeth knocking against each other and her tongue invading your mouth and breathing each other’s air, and you wrap your arms around her neck to bring her even closer. She didn’t get to take her pants off yet, but it feels absolutely delicious when she slides a thigh between yours and you grind down onto it. Your nipples brush against the fabric of her bra and you can’t help but moan into her open mouth. 

Fire roars beneath your skin, spreading to all over your body, and you suddenly just need more. You need her to overwhelm all your senses until you can’t fucking think about anything else, not the job, not her moving, not the fact that you could’ve stopped this but didn’t — you just want her. 

She grabs onto your hip to guide you against her leg and you whine as she sucks on your tongue. Her other hand comes up to cup your right breast and roll your nipple and you mewl and jerk against her. She tugs and it feels directly connected to your cunt because you pulse and it only gets worse when she flexes her thigh underneath you. 

“Bed — bedroom, please,” you choke out and her mouth doesn’t leave yours, walking you backwards into the bedroom and not stopping until the backs of your knees hit the bed. 

Agatha pushes you down onto it, the duvet beneath you instantly getting wet from your dripping pussy, and she shimmies off her pants and underwear and sinks to her knees in front of you. It’s a sight to behold, her looking up at you from the floor like she wants to devour you, like she would hang the stars and the sun in the sky for you and it still wouldn’t be enough. The power running through you from the heat in her eyes and the ragged heaving of her red chest and the way she tosses her hair over her shoulder is enough to drive you mad. 

“You’re so perfect,” she breathes and it only makes you wetter. You buck your hips against the bed, trying to get some stimulation to your now-aching clit, but it’s not even close to enough. 

But it’s not even five seconds later when she leans in, inhales the scent of you deeply, and then drags her flattened tongue through your folds, making you keen and arch your back. She is so good with her mouth and she never fails to remind you. 

“Fuck, Agatha,” you gasp, and you usually don’t call her by her name during sex, normally opting for mommy, but you need the intimacy right now. You need to feel like this is real. 

She groans into you and teases her tongue around your clit, never quite touching it, and you bury your fingers in her hair and gently pull on it. Her eyes flick up to yours as a warning and you loosen your grip. Agatha gives you an almost imperceptible nod and rewards you with one long lick to your clit and your head falls back. 

You can no longer hold yourself up when she thrusts her tongue inside you, and you fall back onto the bed, instantly clenching around you. She feels so fucking good, her tongue curling inside your cunt and her nose brushing against your clit, and you angle a leg up on the bed so she can reach deeper inside you. “God, yes,” you sigh, and your orgasm is slowly starting to build up with each roll of your hips and each time your stomach tightens. 

But something is missing — you can’t help your thoughts from straying and you just need more. 

So you stop her and she looks up at you, the entire bottom half of her face and nose absolutely covered with you. Your clit throbs and you sit up.

“I need — I want — wanna taste you too, Aggie,” you whine and you’ve never used that nickname before, but you think she likes it because she lunges up, capturing your lips with hers again, and knocking you straight back onto the bed. 

She nods while still kissing you, whispering, “Fuck, honey, how are you so hot? How are you so perfect for me?” 

You clench around nothing and you claw at her shoulder blades frantically, knowing what you need but not how to ask for it. 

But Agatha knows — she always knows what you want, except for when it really counts apparently. She gets off of you and scooches on her knees until she’s situated behind your head, facing your body. And then she moves to frame your face with her thighs, her glistening cunt hovering right above your face, and she bends over to pry your legs open before leaning down and sucking on your clit roughly. 

You squirm and palm her ass to pull her down to your mouth, and at your first lick through her folds, she moans right into you, the vibrations making you jump. Eating her out while also being eaten out is an experience like no other you’ve ever had. Every single thing you do to her affects her, which in turn, affects you. 

The positive feedback loop has both of you sloppily mouthing at each other’s cunts, mimicking motions while also losing all sense of rhythm, and when she digs her fingernails into your thighs and scrapes her teeth against your clit, you let out a high-pitched sound that has her riding your face furiously. 

Agatha is getting louder too — you can feel it more than hear it, and you are completely drunk on her smell and her taste and how good she’s making you feel. You dip your tongue into her entrance, stroking against her convulsing walls before swirling around her clit and she pauses what she’s doing for a moment to just breathe heavily against your pussy before diving back in. 

All thoughts of anything else are completely out of your foggy mind and you feel like you’re floating, not able to focus on anything else besides Agatha. 

If you would’ve known that your dad having an affair would have led to you having the hottest sex with the hottest woman ever, you definitely wouldn’t have been so mad about it. 

“Oh, god, baby, you’re so good,” she says into your cunt and it only makes you grind up harder. She matches your intensity, riding your face fast, her clit dragging against your tongue. You groan in agreement and her stomach glides against your nipples while hers do the same and you know that it won’t be long before either of you cum. 

She nips at your inner thigh before plunging her tongue inside you and it has your hips bucking. “Fuck — Agatha,” you cry, barely able to keep eating her out because of how stimulated you are. Pleasure is racing through every ridge of your body and your head is spinning. 

“That’s right, honey,” she pants, lathering her tongue all over your clit. “Cum for me.” 

The tension inside you snaps and you cum, riding out the immense wave as she continues lapping at you and you suck on her clit, triggering her own orgasm. There’s a gush of wetness all over your face and she keeps rolling her hips, chasing the last tendrils. 

That was one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, you think, and when Agatha flops down onto the bed next to you, breathing heavily, you think she might agree. 

“Fuck,” you say, completely wiped out, and Agatha chuckles weakly in response, reaching a hand out to rest her fingers against yours, not quite interlocking them. The two of you lay like that for what feels like forever, just soaking in the silence and the comfort of being right next to each other. 

You’re not sure who moves first — maybe it’s a mutual decision, but eventually you slide up to the pillows and Agatha turns around and moves next to you. Rotating onto your side, you hear the sheets rustle behind you and right on cue, Agatha’s arm snakes around you, holding you close enough to her that you can feel her heartbeat against your back and her breath on your neck. 

She kisses the top of your ear and you snuggle back against her. You know that you should put on clothes and clean up your mess, but for right now, you just need to feel her against you. 

“We’re going to be okay?” you ask timidly. It seems like it was so long ago that you were spiraling out of control because you thought she was cheating. 

Agatha’s arm tightens around yours. “We’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.” 

And you think you might actually believe her. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @vyvvycg

[beatlblog]

#George can fix his own dinner sorry it’s for couples only (via @didwemeetsomewherebefore)

#steak and spuds#but none for George huh?#I would love to have heard John's 'indignant' voice#real indignant or mock indignant? (via @crepesuzette2023)

#a regular LITTLE HOUSEWIFE!!!#also his and johns dinner#LMAO literally only cooking for John like#George is right fucking there#but I’ve always loved to think of them in Paul’s house and Paul’s out here with his little apron making John his tea#so honestly this only confirms that image#I’m dying it’s so funny#Johns like don’t point it out to him then he’s gonna stop being my little wifey#I wish he’d answer tho#WAS IT COMMON JOHN 🎤 (via @sleeper9)

#has probably cooked for john since they were teenagers and now people are calling them weird for it#anyway I love the domesticity of it#everyone needs a work wife (via @javelinbk)

#cooking a steak for his husband after a long day of being rock stars#a single mom who works two jobs etc (via @backbenttulips)

#let him cook (literally) (via @elena-ferrante)

#paul being a little campy fork found in kitchen (via @hamyilton)

#ay el amor#perhaps affectionately (via @alwaysreturntome)

#they're in a penthouse where obviously the thing to do would be room service#especially in 1964 where that sort of thing was still new and exciting#Also the fact that George is sitting right there and Paul's not making him dinner I'm dead#Where was Ringo I wonder#But really it makes me think of how Paul talks about being good at scrambled eggs and mashed potatoes and not much else#He likes to be Linda's sue chef and chop things up and hang out with her while she's cooking but she's the one who loves it#And yet here he is cooking for John in a penthouse#Why is it so important for him to maintain gender roles in at least the media perception of his marriage?#Because of comments like this?#Or maybe Linda really was just so many worlds better at cooking and loved it so much like they always assert (via @m1ssunderstanding)

not especially new in 64 but maybe for them newly famous with money

#does george just not eat (via @supersonic1994)

no he alwys does and that's why it's funny

#they let george STARVE 💔 (via @gardenwalrus)

#also John “I love to play it faggy” lennon finding THAT funny is honestly hilarious lol (via @cocaineskinny909)

#its ok if he does john don’t be embarrassed (via @beatlesmenrock)

#I’m going to imagine that Paul turned round and gave George $5#and said ‘go ask the hotel kitchen to make you a sandwich’#‘and don’t come back for a while’#‘mommy’s going to give daddy a special adult kiss on his trousers’ (via @didwemeetsomewherebefore)

#''it sounds funny'' yes it does john. yes it does (via @moptopper)

#also obligatory#what's libel about calling paul camp? (via @saturn-iidae)

#secure men could chuckle at their boy best friend bring called their little housewife (via @paulscunt)

#and yet the regular little housewife apparently forgot to cook something for their kids aka george and ringo lmao (via @innitmarvellous)

#pauls a mummy#johns mummy (via @beatlesyurii)

#this book is out next week and I’m really interested to know what the source for this is considering Malcolm Searle died in 2008#by which I mean…I wonder if audio exists (via @delightfullyatomicfest)

#*heavy italian accent* what? no steak for george? (via @maccaritamondays)

#1) paul only cooking for john and leaving george and ringo to starve in a cardboard box on the side of the road#2) where did he get a little apron when they were on tour#3) he really just wanted to be someone's wife so fucking bad (via @ozymandiasdirge)

#how much do you wanna bet this was a money saving thing#like george is there eating some nice takeout and paul's stirring potatoes saying ''you're wasting all your money. right john???'' (via @moptopper)

When We Was Fab: Inside the Beatles Australasian Tour 1964 by Andy Neill and Greg Armstrong

I’ve stolen this off a Facebook group but feel it needs to be seen on tumblr.

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Ellie crushing on her best friend's mom ..

And she doesn't even try to hold herself from letting herself leaning right into your touch. Her eyes still lock strongly with yours, as if she was a puppy that's completely entranced and taken by the soft caresses of its owner.

"I..I need you, m-ma'am." she whispers, barely above a breath, and it was so desperately needy.

warnings: age gap (ellie in her 20s), needy and desperate sub! ellie / indifferent and teasing dom! reader, ownership kink, thigh-riding, orgasm denial, mentions of ellie's fantasies about reader, infidelity, reader has some type of avoidance or issues with her guilt happening, slight angst(?)

a/n: i don't usually like writing age gaps so i tried to make it obvious that they are both adults and i also don't imagine ellie to be a freshman or sophomore with a milf! i did find this request really unique, though. anon should write because that is a lovely prompt.

And she doesn't even try to hold herself from letting herself leaning right into your touch. Her eyes still lock strongly with yours, as if she was a puppy that's completely entranced and taken by the soft caresses of its owner.

"I..I need you, m-ma'am." she whispers, barely above a breath, and it was so desperately needy....

Your hands cup her face, strong and loving. A touch not of lust, not pure sexual desire, but rather an emotional need that begs to be quenched. That scares you a bit. Your daughter isn’t home, but Ellie sure is. 

“Do you think about me, the way I think about you?” Ellie asks, sounding particularly uncertain. 

You simply smile, an expression similar to Ellie’s gaze that doesn’t reveal much. “Why, do I think of you as my owner?” You question, and Ellie’s heart squeezes within the confines of her ribs. 

“No, not that! I mean..Do you crave me, too?” With a voice but a whisper, Ellie looks up at you between the fans of her lashes. 

Of course, you dance around it all. Perhaps you’re scared to fully close the distance, as if getting this close to your dear daughter’s best friend isn’t bad enough. The answer that follows is one that Ellie cannot be surprised by, but she can’t be disappointed at your avoidance, not when your thumb applies itself over the softness of her cheek, just barely grazing over her jaw. 

“Sure, I crave you. Are you going to give me what I want?” You lean in as you speak. Ellie’s self control is limited. 

A college-age thing is what Ellie is. Not inexperienced, but starved and needy for a touch of a hand from a mind that knows how to actually control her. Most girls within her dorms would fuck her and dip, sad truth. You talk in pretentious rhymes, touch her with just grazes and soft affections, so aggravating and yet, she finds herself visiting you when your daughter is unaware. 

With such limited self control, you can’t be neither offended nor surprised when this freckled face leans in, and your stomach internally coils with a dose of need when she hesitates in her journey to imprint the lines of her lips onto yours. It’s a need that differs from Ellie’s, one that isn’t as impatient. Yours begs your fingers to soak themselves with her nectar, and it wishes to ruin her. 

“C-Can I kiss you now?” Ellie asks pleadingly. “Please?”

The disappointing thing should be that you don’t say yes, or even throw an ounce of enthusiasm towards her. In a way, it sets her insides on fire. A sick part of Ellie likes the neglect on your behalf. Still, she finds herself leaning, leaning even closer into your space, and finally allowing herself to feel what she has hoped to experience after ages of perverse courtship. 

Your kiss isn’t comparable to her past in any way, shape, or form–you possess her mouth with an intensity that leaves her gasping for oxygen from the start. It is far from the sweet, tender peck high school crushes offered up to her, and truly opposite from drunken, sloppy make-outs on dirty dorm couches. Your lips seem to wrap around or embed themselves against each of hers, giving separate attention before the pink, wet muscle Ellie has dreamed of feeling buried between her freckled thighs delves between her plush lips to seek out her tongue, though it may be tied. 

It is all too soon when you pull away, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. Ellie feels a slight sense of satisfaction upon seeing you breathless. She is far too used to your indifference to the point where she finds herself surprised that you exhibit any vulnerability, even if it is just a shortness of breath. It doesn’t leave her any less in need of you to own her, though. 

You sit on the couch behind you, and like Pavlov’s dog, Ellie crawls into your lap. Ellie, the same Ellie in boot-cut Levi’s and some worn hoodie, finds herself in the lap of you, a woman who only slips on skirts you’d typically find in an office, and heels Ellie wishes you’d crush her with. Ellie previously never cared to sit in a woman’s lap like a needy dog, but can’t seem to help herself. 

Right there on your couch, husband working to provide and your daughter back at her dorm room, you give Ellie the sensations she has been aching for. Her Levi’s are hap-hazardly thrown on the ground, and her panties are still on her. The fabric sticks to her sloppy, wet cunt as she drags it over the plush of your thigh. 

“U-Uh, huh..fuck me..” she breaths, hips shifting on you. You don’t miss the way her eyes glaze over, the lids sliding over her eyes, twitching in explicable need. 

“Fuck you? That’s pretty vulgar, Ellie.” You playfully scold, your affectionate hold on her hips dragging the one thing she is thinking with onto over your thigh. Her clit.

“Jus’ make me so needy, can’t help it.” She whines in your ear, heating up the cartilage. 

She can’t figure out why, but you allow Ellie to rut herself against your leg like it’s her lifeline. You’ve got this slick smile plastered on your face, and she doesn’t comment on it. In truth, she is scared that one wrong word or question of “what are we doing? Will we do this again? Is this more than just teasing and cumming?” will force you to flee. She imagines you so fragile in your feelings for her, only letting your guard down and allowing yourself to actually fuck and own her will cause a quake in the Earth. 

“You’re close.” You state, and the simplicity of it makes Ellie softly moan. The sound travels from your ears, between your brain, and straight down to your own cunt. 

“Gonna make a mess on your thigh with my cum, mhmm..” Ellie bites her lip to hold back from moaning too loudly, not wanting any neighbors to wonder why the sounds are erupting from your lovely house at four in the afternoon. 

The intense feeling of something bubbling up inside of her most desperate places, like a witches’ cauldron right before it boils over, is exactly what Ellie feels. She is right on the edge of something she believes to be exactly what she needs, and the start to maybe someday feeling your touch on her bare pussy, or at least dragging the soaked thing along your thigh for a second time. Instead, she is left empty-handed, and utterly humiliated. 

“Okay, okay. That’s enough.” You say, hands unfortunately slipping away from her janky hips. Ellie swallows her disappointment down in a wretched lump, awkwardly swinging one leg over and situating herself on the couch beside you. Her clit jumps from just seeing you, the red of your cheeks you can’t hide with verbal denial or a schooled expression. 

“I’ve got a comp essay to write. See you later, ma'am.” Ellie mumbles, not really thinking about whether or not you can hear it. She grabs her jeans, zipping up the metal teeth, and then laces up her converse. Her guess is that you pretend not to hear her, not uttering a single word. 

Outside of the door, Ellie wonders what it is that makes you the way you are. You want to have her, and you were so close to fully letting go. Perhaps it’s the guilt; you’re a married woman, afterall. Ellie is your daughter’s best friend, for Christ’s sake. She should feel guilty. Her ribs ache at the thought that she isn’t feeling what is morally right, but the haunting thoughts of your touch on her body leave her mind clouded. 

She wishes that she could be even half as casual as you are. 

taglist: @kaykeryyy i know you like getting tagged on ellie fics, so enjoy!

[luvyeni]

LOVESICK BOY 𝕼. ( 이동혁 )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 이동혁 x fem!reader )  ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. unprotected sex , oral ( f )word count. 3.5k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

synopsis … haechan is completely lovesick … but you won’t give him the time a day , until chenle comes in and shows you what you’ve been missing

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ this is the one that i think was supposed to be a yandere but the person didn’t specify

you really couldn’t see the appeal; all he did was sleep around with other girls, party and never show up to class — so why couldn’t you stop staring at him?

“my god he’s so annoying.” chenle turned around to see who you were staring at. “and how is she even falling for that?” you watched donghyuck flirt with the 3rd girl this morning , the girls eyes shimmered with hope and joy. if only she knew she’d be severely disappointed in the end. “this is your third complaint about him today.” jeno smirked. “we’ll need to get a jar , every complaint about hyuck you’ll have to put a dollar in the jar.”

“hey maybe we will be able to afford a new game for the frat after all , give it a week.” jaemin teased , you scoffed. “with the way she talks about him , maybe will have a little left over.” the table laughed , while you just rolled your eyes. “haha very funny , im leaving.” you stood up ready to walk away when someone blocked your path. “lee donghyuck.” you sighed , the boy smiled in front of you. “hey my wife to be.” he smirked. “where you going i just got here.” he said.

“really because we all saw you flirting with that girl over there.” you didn’t even mean to sound jealous , but it came off like that. “you jealous?” he said , you stepped to the right , but he followed blocking you once again. “come on you know you’re the one that i want.” and he was serious about that , but to you it meant nothing. “yeah , how many people did you say that to today?” you pushed him out the way , walking away to your next class.

he waited until you were out of sight and earshot before he sat in the seat slumped. “and what’s got you upset today?” marked smirked , the guys groaning knowing the rant he was about to go on. “you got him started.” he sighed dramatically. “i just don’t get it , why won’t she take me seriously.” his friends shook their heads. “how many times do i have to confess for her to get it.” he said. “for starters don’t flirt with other girls in front of her.” renjun said. “but i wasn’t flirting , i only asked where she got her necklace from.” he said. “i wanted to buy it for yn , she said a month ago her favorite necklace broke and i wanted to get her a new one , that looked like one she would like.” he said.

“yeah but that girl looked like she wanted to pull your pants down and suck your dick in front of everyone and with how friendly you were, it looked like you’d let her.” chenle said. “this is driving me insane.” he tugged at his hair. he couldn’t get you out of his head, you consumed him entirely even though you barely gave him the time of day. he even enjoyed when you would insult him because at least you were talking to him. “you guys don’t understand.” he sighed. “you’ve explained it , many many many times.” jisung looked up from his phone. “we understand.”

“where did obsession even come from , she’s never given you any reason for you to like her like that.” jaemin said. “i don’t know , it’s just that every single thing she does makes me crazy, even now i feel sick that she isn’t here , i miss her and she doesn’t even know it.” his friends watch him pour his heart out. “i think i love her.”

“whoa calm down.” mark said. “at least get her to like you before you start talking fucking wedding bells , children and shit.” the table chuckled , but he was serious. “how can i get her to like me?” he said. “aren’t you supposed to be good at this?” chenle said. “aren’t you like known for getting girls out of their panties , this should be a walk in the park for you.” haechan knew his reputation ; and he won’t deny his freshman year he really was like that — but then he met you , and everything changed , he no longer wanted to be a player , he wanted you and only you… turns out his past did come with consequences , you hated him; you wanted nothing to do with him despite him telling you that he changed , you refused to believe him.

“that’s the thing , i don’t want to get her out her panties.” they all looked at him. “well not just that , i want to be her , go on dates , take her to the movies , hell sit in the park and have a picnic.” he said. “yeah but you also want to fuck her in these exact places and she’s aware of that.” jeno said. “it’s your approach bro.” mark said. “yn doesn’t want to know what you’d do to her if you were alone in her bedroom.” he said. “she’s probably heard that 1000 times already.” he doubled over with a groan , he couldn’t fathom another guy talking to you. “instead of approaching her like a jerk , ask her on a real date first; or at least say hello when you see her and not and this is a quote from you ‘hello mother of all 6 of my future kids.’

he thought about all the advice that he was giving; as he waited outside of your class. “don’t say anything stupid.” he said to himself , walking back and forth. “nothing stupid.” he said. “oh that must be hard for you.” he spun around upon hearing your voice. “you’re constantly saying stupid stuff.” he smiled , your upper lip curled up in annoyance. “hi yn.” he said. “what do you want lee donghyuck?” you walked , he followed behind you. “well to ask you a question.” he said. “no.” you said , he pouted , making you feel bad. “fine what is it , i have a class.” you said. “i can walk you.” he said walking next to you. “is that what you wanted? that’s not a question.”

“that’s not the question yn , please listen to me for a second.” he pleased. “what is is donghyuck?” you said. “let me take you out,” he said. “what?” you stopped. “let me take you out.” he repeated. “on a date , a real date.” he said. “and why would i do that?” you said. “because im trying to show you that im not a heartless bastard with no home training.” you stifled a laugh. “did you laugh?” he said. “no.” you deadpanned. “yes you did , come on it was funny , you can laugh.” he said. “haechan — oh my god , you called me haechan.” you stared at him. “i have class donghyuck.” you stopped outside the classroom. “then say yes; we’ll go see a movie.” he explained. “we can even go get ice cream , brownie your favorite.”

“how did you know that?” you asked. “just say yes , before you’re late.” he said. you thought about it for a second , no sexual jokes , no condescending smirk on his face , although sexy made you want to slap him — he was serious. “are you fucking with me?” you said. “yn i wouldn’t have walked you all the way to class if i wasn’t serious , my class is on the other side of campus.” he said. “im waiting and you know what i think i can miss a day of class , this class seems fun.” he tried to walk past you , but you stopped him. , hand on his chest. “no don’t do that.” you said. “i will go; so go back to your class , lord knows you shouldn’t miss a day.” he smiled , his hand coming to your wrist. “really?” he said. “i will meet you at the movie theatre , now go.”

he waited for you to go into the class; before bursting out in a fit of excitement; you said yes , he couldn’t believe you said yes.

“i can’t believe i said yes.” you slammed your vanity. “why did i say yes?” you complained to your friend on the phone. “because maybe you really like him and you let his reputation from freshman year determine your entire perception of him.” chenle said. “still , we both saw him flirting with those girls.” you said. “i won’t be another one of sexual conquests.” chenle spoke up. “be realistic who didn’t do dumb shit during freshman year? you ran topless down a busy street drunk and has haechan judged you for that?” he said. “no in fact he was the one who chased you down the street, shirt in hand , his shirt because yours was floating in our pool.” you cringed, remembering jeno and haechan dragging you back to the dorms as you screamed. “i genuinely believe that was the first time he actually realized he fell deep for you and not because you were naked and in his arms.”

“to be honest haechan hasn’t been with anyone since freshman year , im pretty sure he fucked himself into not wanting anything , but not only that , but because he quite literally doesn’t want anyone else but you.” chenle said. “and those girls , we know he’s friendly even the teachers think he’s flirting with them.” he said. “but he was touching her.” you said. “because she had a necklace that he wanted to buy you , he remembered you broke yours and he wanted to get you a new one.” he let it spill out; should he have? no , but with the new look on your face he knew haechan would thank him in the end. “i only mention that once , months ago.”

“and he remembered; just how he remembers everything you say , down to the name of your dead hamster you had when you were three.” chenle said. “i genuinely don’t think you understand how much he likes you.” he said. “and i think you’re letting your soulmate slip right from your hands.”

as you stood staring at the movie posters; everything was swirling around in your head as you tried to make sense of it… did haechan really feel this deeply for you? you’ve treated him so horribly for all these years for some stupid things he did when he was fresh out of highschool; and now chenle sprung this on you… you felt like shit. you hadn’t even realized that haechan was late. “yn!”

you were gonna kill him; you’ll never give him the time of day again, you’re gonna think he’s fucking with you. “calm down man , how were you supposed to know your car was gonna break down.” mark sat in the drivers seat. “call her , im sure she’ll understand.” he said. “she probably already went home , and blocked me.” he said. “well we’re here , so get out and hope she’s still there.” he hopped out of the car , running into the movie theaters. “please still be here.”

he saw you and let out a sigh of relief; your back was turned but he could tell it was you. he could pick you out of a lineup with his eyes closed; just by your scent alone. “yn!” he ran over to you. “im so sorry i didn’t hmph.” was he dreaming? this was a sick joke his mind was play; he was dreaming , you actually weren’t here and this was a dream he was having. he had to be — because there was no way you were hugging him right now. “um not that i don’t like this … but what is this?”

you were silent; no you sniffled. why are you sniffling? are you sick? “yn , this is weird, what’s wrong?” he pulled away; you were too ashamed to look him in the eyes. “please look at me , im sorry for being late.” he said. “why are you crying?” he said, worried even more now. “what happened did someone do something?” you shook your head. “then tell me please im dying.” he said, which made you laugh through your tears. “im so stupid.” you said. “please i’ve met stupid girls and you definitely aren’t one of them.” he said. “oh no that came out wrong i promise i haven't met any girls , it’s just me saying that i think you’re very smart.” he panicked. “please just tell me why you’re crying.” he said.

“because i’ve been so mean to you an-and all you’ve tried to do is be nice to me and i judged you for things you did years; even though you’ve never judged me even when i ran down the street topless— hey!” his hand came up to your mouth. “not everyone needs to hear that.” he said. “where is all this coming from?” he said. “im just sorry for everything.” you said. “every single thing i’ve done wrong.” his first instinct was to grab your face. “nothing could make me hate you okay?” he said. “i haven’t done much to prove how much i really like you; only how much i wanted to sleep with you — wait not that i want to sleep with you, why am i so bad at this all of a sudden.” he said. “let’s just go see the movie okay, we can get ice cream after and talk alright?” you nodded , he took his hands off your cheeks , taking one of your hands into his. “come on wipe those tears off your pretty face.”

haechan could barely watch the movie with the way your hand was gripping his. you wouldn’t let him go , and he wouldn’t have it any other way — if this was a dream he was scheduling an appointment for a therapist when he woke up because he would never mentally recover from this if it was fake. “why do you keep staring at my home like that?” you whispered with a smile. “because im trying to see if im dreaming or not,” he said. “you’re holding my hand.” he said. “you’re actually holding my hand.” he smiled. “you’re on a date with me, and you’re holding my hand.” he could’ve burst into excitement if he wasn’t in a quiet movie theater. “you’re not dreaming.” you kissed his knuckles and he almost passed out. “see.”

“maybe i still don’t believe it.” you giggled , before you reached over kissing his cheek, leaving the boy shocked. “do you believe it now?” he nodded. “good because i don’t think there was anything else I could’ve done here in public that would’ve made you believe me.” you said. “well maybe if there was less people.” did you really say that? what did you mean by that? now he was thinking about other stuff. would you have touched him? in public?

the movie soon ended and you still hadn’t let him go even as you made your way to the ice cream shop to get your ice cream. “sorry we’re out of brownie ice cream.” the worker said. “really?” you frowned. “maybe you can get chocolate?” he said. “it’s not the same.” you said. “well we can stop to get some food since you didn’t eat anything at the movies.” he said , he really didn’t want this date to end. “or..” you started. “we can go to my apartment and i can make ramen.” your house? you were letting him in your house? “what do you say?” why would he fucking say no? “okay.”

the walk back to your apartment wasn’t that long , nether was the elevator to your apartment; but he soon found himself in your space, surrounded by your scent and all things you — this was his heaven. “haechan.” he heard you call him , which made him turn to you. he couldn’t even react before your lips were on his. your kiss was something he dreamt about often , your soft pillowy lips on his; your fingers working their way through his neck hairs. “wa-wait yn.” he pulled away before he got carried away. “as much as i love this , i definitely don’t want to do this just cause you feel bad.” he said. “no-no i want this.” you said. “i want this so much.” you said , and that was all the confirmation he needed. “then let me do it.”

he picked you up; taking you to your room , kicking the door open. “wan’ you go sit on my face.” he said. “fuck i need you to sit on my face.” he groaned , laying back. “i don’t want to hurt you.” he didn’t care; dying with his face stuffed between your legs seemed like his dream way to go. “no , no you won’t please.” he begged , pulling your skirt down , along with your panties , your wet was right there , he could smell your scent as you dripped for him. “please sit , please im gonna die if you don’t.” he grabbed your thighs desperately. “sit please.” you finally gave in , lowering yourself down , you could feel his tongue. “oh-oh hyuck.” you moaned , yelping as he impatiently pulled you down. “fuck!”

he wasted no time licking your folds , holding you by your waist like you’d run away if he didn’t , your hips involuntarily moved against his tongue , your hands coming to hair pulling at it. “fuck keep going.” you moaned. “just like that , im gonna cum!” he sucked on your clit , sending you over the edge. “oh my god!” you gasped your legs began to shake. “im cumming!”

the boy below opened his mouth , allowing your juices to flow straight into his mouth; drinking everything you had to give him; his cock begging to be freed and touched — tasting you wasn’t enough, he needed to be inside you. “hyuck i can’t - too much!” he finally let up on your poor cunt , but that doesn’t mean he was done. “i need you.” he moaned, kissing your thighs. “you have me.” you said , he flipped you over. “I need to fuck you , pl-please.” he pressed himself against your bare lower half. “pl-please hyuck.” you reached down , pulling at his pants , undoing the buttons. “please fuck me.”

he stood up quickly; not wanting to be away from you much longer , pulling his pants down , along with his underwear. “i-i don’t have a condom.” he said , you didn’t care right now. “are you clean?” he nodded , his aching cock standing in desperate need of attention. “then please touch me , please.”

he climbed back in between your legs. “fuck.” he cursed the moment his hip touched your soaking cunt. he knew he wasn’t gonna last long , but he knew he didn’t want to let you down. “It-it’s okay.” you touched his cock , slowly guiding it inside you. “oh fuck you’re so tight.” he had to compose himself. “fu-fuck i don’t think I’m gonna last.” he fully stilled himself inside you. “can i move?” you moaned. “please move hyuck.”

he grabbed your waist; moving. “oh-oh fuck you’re so big.” he groaned. “faster hyuck.” you whined. “please go faster.” he hissed as he picked up the pace , feeling you clench around him repeatedly. “fuck if you keep doing that , im gonna cum.” he said , his movements still remaining strong and fluid as his tip kissed your cervix over and over. “fuck im cumming.” he groaned ,his cock twitching inside you before he shot his load inside of you. “oh fuck im sorry.” he pulled out , finishing on your sensitive cunt. “sh-shit it’s okay.”

he definitely wasn’t about to leave you hanging; pushing his sensitive cock right back inside you. “fuck hyuck!” you screamed , your neighbors surely won’t be happy with you in the morning. “wanna make you cum.” he said , his hands planted on both sides of your head. “fuck hyuck keep going.” you moaned. “right there , im gonna cum.” he kept up his pace , soon your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came. “oh fuck!” he felt himself cumming a second time , this time he didn’t pull out.

“i didn’t pull out.” he said breathlessly. “th-that’s okay.” you said. “we-we need to clean up.” you sat up , but he wasn’t done , now that he finally got a taste of you , he wanted it again , and again and again. “not yet.” he kissed your stomach. “i wanna do it.” your eyes followed his dark ones as he kissed and bit at your thighs. “wanna clean your pretty pussy myself.”

it was truly gonna be a long night for your neighbors.

“there he is at it again.” jaemin looked past you , making you turn around. “he can’t read a single room can it.” you watch the girls face turn beat red as the boy in front of him start a conversation. “she can’t either , can she not tell he’s not interested.” chenle spoke up. “excuse me.” you got up , the table was confused. “class?” jeno smirked , you shook your head. “no.” you walked away , straight over to the boy. “oh hi , you see these earrings?” you nodded at the clueless boy in front of you. “our 5 months is coming up , wouldn’t you like these?” the girl finally got the hint walking away. “wait what brand are they?” you dragged him back to the table. “I’ll find you a better pair.”

“and he still can’t see why she hated him?” jisung said. “I don’t need anymore jewelry ; we’ve been together 5 months and you’ve given me way more jewelry than i’ll ever need.” you said. “you’re right , i’ll just get you flowers.” you smiled , giving him a cheek kiss. “if that’s what you want hyuck.” he still stared at you with the same love sick look.

he was clueless and couldn’t read the room at all ; but he was yours… and you wouldn’t change him for the world.

©️LUVYENI

[silent-raven13]

Periodt!

Sam loves Danny Phantom, not Danny Fenton. Valerie loves Danny Fenton not Phantom. Though, Valerie can learn to accept Phantom with a lot of character development and growth. Sam didn't and chooses to be in love with Phantom instead of Fenton.

Sam is a goth girl probably in a phase where she wants to be different and like anything dark and mysterious. She likes Danny as a halfa because she likes that he's different and weird. When he wanted a normal life, she and Tucker didn't care about him. They missed the adventure, the danger they had being with Danny Phantom.

Watching Sam as this environmentalist, vegan, feminist girl, I did not like what she represented. To me it screams out poser, wannabe, she only does it to be against her parents.

Granted! She is a teenager and she's allowed to feel her angst and go into phases- BUT!

She comes from a wealthy old money family, she's all about freeing animals, saving those frogs from school's lab, and eating vegan food. Why didn't she use her own family wealth to help save the frogs by donating money to the school? Her grandmother would gladly help her, seeing how she's into rebellion.

Before people start saying, "Oh, she didn't want to use her family name or associate with money." She has privilege to do so, and got the power to make the changes she wants. Probably got a trust fund. She's an heiress to her family business. She doesn't mind being rich, when she was sick she was well taken care of.

And she gave me 'I'm one of the boys' vibes. She talks about Paulina and Star as girls that follow the social norm of being a girl girly.

Now, we get they are means girls being into the whole liking boys, and loving makeup, dressing up, and being cute! And they straight up bullies her. Sam is allow to call them every name under the sun, she can curse them out.

However, Sam is exactly the same way! She designs her own clothing because she doesn't want pink (due to her parents).

She acted like she didn't care about the flour sack baby, when she love being mom and raising it.

In the prom episode, she was so excited to go to prom. "Tucker" asking her out, and he was flabbergasted by her beautiful outfit.

This outfit, the hair, makeup- Everything is so on point. I love this outfit from her.

In the Nightmare episode or dream one, she dreamt of wearing Danny's jacket.

I mean... I thought she wasn't like other girls? I thought she wouldn't be like Paulina and Star. Hmm, funny when she's a lot like them.

Sam wasn't for women! She was against women like Paulina, and Star. When she had so much judgements on Women that prefer to be housewives, cook or clean or care about boys. As a Feminist it's all about Women having the freedom to make that choice. Paulina has the freedom to go into a pageant and get excited by it, or for boys. Sam thinking Paulina is a simple Bimbo like really girl? Paulina doesn't take bullshit, and when she says no, she means no.

From my perspective I felt like I was watching a poser. I could already tell she had a very hipster view for the environment and animal rights. Her wanting to protest is for the rush, the excitement of danger in my opinion.

Who's right for her?

Honestly, I felt like her and Tucker had more of a connection. Tucker can call out on her b.s and she calls on his. They have a better interaction unlike Sam and Danny.

And they are funny together. During the floor sack baby project, Tucker and Sam worked so well as partners. They had this silly 'Honey, I'm home' relationship. They bicker like an old married couple, and know so much about each other.

Sam and Danny felt forced, I felt like their relationship is superficial. Everyone expected those two together because they are friends. The outcast weirdos group- Hey, Sam and Danny make a good fit because they are the "weirdos".

Danny's parents only ever met Sam and see them hang out. They probably assume they'll get together because they hang out so much.

When Danny gave his powers up, I found it so unfair Tucker and Sam treated him. I was so livid by the fact they didn't understand how exhausting being a hero, a son, and a student and trying to maintain his secret. Those long nights fighting ghosts while he needs to finish a book report the next day!

Other thoughts: I don't know if it's Butch or Nickelodeon, the fact that didn't let Danny get with Valerie bothered me so much. I felt like there's so much to unpack, so many layers for them to develop. A crazy duo of a Ghost hero and Ghost hunter would be expect! So much to build from them- I'm say this, they didn't want an interracial ships and I will die on this hill on this.

And fans be racist too. I haven't forgotten how many would be hating Valerie for existing, the way I saw fans making her the "Angry black woman" or stereotyping her, and making Paulina (the only Latina) pregnant at 16 fanart like... ya'll microaggression are showing. Like I get Paulina is a bitch, a bully, but damn, ya'll be racist like no damn tomorrow. The hate is real. Ya'll need to do better.

Sam's toxic relationship with Danny.

Alright, so, in Double Cross My Heart we all know Sam gets a new crush and Danny becomes jealous. But, after watching this episode for the umpteenth time, I really don't think he was jealous, he was just being overprotective as always (13).

Moving on, there was something about Gregor I noticed from the get-go and why I think Sam just fell for him on-sight, anyone want to take a guess?

Well, let's see, he's tan, wearing black and white, has white hair, and green eyes (he takes his sunglasses off at the end of the episode). Any of these attributes sound, I dunno, familiar?

Do I think this was intentional? Yes, but not from his end, he had no idea Sam has a crush on Phantom, and yes I mean Phantom. Why?

This is when Sam's crush on Danny actually started, this moment here. No not earlier in the episode when they're holding hands, she and Danny do blush but it's because they're in an awkward situation, not because 'oh no I'm touching my crush's hands'. Sam doesn't show any actual interest in Danny in any episode prior to this, sure she and Danny are dancing together at the freshman dance (parental bonding) but there's no romance underlying the scene, it's just two friends dancing platonically, Danny even says he wish he took her just because she wanted to go.

Do I think Sam even knows she has a crush on Phantom and not Danny? No, she's 14, she wouldn't understand that. Why do I think that? Well it's just the way she treats Danny as Danny and not as Phantom, when Danny does regular teenage boy stuff she gets all angry and annoyed by him and Tucker, but when it comes to the ghost stuff she's not as bad about it. I get she's trying to get him to be more mature etc, but he's 14 xD let him be 14.

Then there's Memory Blank, remember how she just straight up gets called out for her causing issues with Danny and just not apologising for any of it? She apologises for the fight, not for what she's done, and Danny just rolls over. It's insane. "Welcome to my world, remember? We should make the menu recyclo-vegetarian! We should let the gorilla out! We should sell all of your dad’s stuff at a garage sale!" "Anything else you want to blame me for? The ice age? Puberty?" "Sam, both monsters knew your name. Either there’s another Sam involved in ghost fighting-- or it’s you." "How about a “thank you”, huh?"

She never actually apologises for any of that tbh, even in this episode she had a go at Danny for beating up the possessed cow balloon and not for haunting the Truck Dealership place. Y'know, he does mature superhero things and she's like "yeah but my agenda", Sam has a tendency to only be mad at Danny for abusing his ghost powers if it doesn't give her perks.

Killer Garage Sale: Danny gains popularity, Sam is ugh. Splitting Images (the NEXT episode): Danny (who's possessed and Tucker even states Danny's acting weird) gains popularity, Sam ignores Tucker's observation and jumps on Danny's popularity to save the frogs.

I feel like the two finally getting together was only because of Elmer's initial plan, but in-universe they only got together because every other character insisted on it. Sam only has the Class Ring because Valerie dumped him and the only reason it has her name in it is because of Jack, Danny never actually gave it to her.

Alright, gonna jump all the way to Frightmare now because I think, even subconsciously, Danny just doesn't have any real feelings for Sam. Why?

Because this happens. In order to wake up from Frightmare's dream helmet things, you need to have a shock in their dream, or basically a nightmare. So Danny's dream was basically perfect up until Danny was confronted with what he thinks is what he wants, yet he wakes up in distress over it. Then there's Sam's dream, which is identical, but Sam wouldn't have woken up from the kiss, it took this to snap her out of it.

Which feels... Kind of telling to me. Sam's perfect dream was happening and she would have remained asleep, but Danny's exact same dream was happening and he woke up. Our subconciouses are basically our thoughts and feelings in their purest form, the way how you feel about something will be very apparent in an instant.

Ok, last episode I'm gonna talk about it, ugh, Phantom Planet. I know, I know, the writing in this episode was so messed up, but the one thing it did get consistent was Sam's character in this. I'm just going to take her last line in the show, which also happens to be the last line in the show, period. "Why not? Cool statue. Personally I would have made it out of recycled materials but, you know, that's just me." Honey, your boyfriend just saved the entire planet and you're going to take the time to complain about his statue??? Like... C'mon Sam... Anyway, yeah, there's a lot more I could say about this btw, but I think I'm done here. Personally, I think if Paulina and Danny wound up together I don't think it'd be as toxic as one with Sam's currently is. "But she only loves Phantom", yeah, but also she's never mean to Danny on her own, she's only mean to him in front of her friends and to Sam to piss her off. She always singles Danny out from his 'loser friends'. Weird huh? ((Just know I'm not saying I ship Paulina with Danny, just that she's actually not as bad as people think she is to him, she's a lot less mean to him than Sam is tbh, you can probably guess who I think is the better person for Danny xD)).

So yeah, I feel like after some time Danny's relationship with Sam would dwindle and eventually end, they'd still be friends, but just that.

I'll end it there.

EDIT: I also forgot about this.

Danny spies on Sam with Gregor because he’s worried Gregor’s with the GIW and doesn’t want Sam to get hurt, Sam gets mad at him for spying on her whilst on a date.

But when both Sam and Tucker spy on him and Valerie because they’re worried Valerie might waste him as Danny Phantom (Sam also has some very blatant jealousy spikes) everything is ok???

I don’t think Danny gets upset that Sam and Gregor kiss because he’s jealous either, I think it’s because either: A) he’s realising he might be wrong, B) he’s worried that if he’s right Sam’ll be heartbroken. If he was jealous he wouldn’t have been suddenly ok with Gregor after stopping the GIW from attacking him, he even apologised to Sam for the spying, Sam and Tucker never did ouo

When Danny goes on to say there’s many reasons to want to date Sam, again, only Sam blushes here, Danny just plays it off and doesn’t blush at all. He was just being a good friend and making her feel better, not saying he would date her. He’s 14, he doesn’t know you can platonically call someone pretty.

Let’s not forget Danny’s feelings for Valerie haven’t gone anywhere yet, the episode (double cross your heart) literally starts like this.

[cjlouwho]

An Open Door

In which Eddie leaves, and Tommy stays. bucktommy. rated G. read below or on ao3.

Buck waved as Eddie’s truck turned at the end of the street. He stood in the driveway for a bit, staring at the house. Now empty, ready for an older couple to move into next week.

He thought about all the memories there. The many nights spent playing video games with Christopher, the both of them begging Eddie to let Chris stay up ten more minutes.

The times Buck came to Eddie’s with good news, or bad news. A home he was as comfortable in as his own.

A home he’d never step foot in again.

He sighed, got into his Jeep, took one last look, and drove away.

*****

When he got to his loft, he didn’t think twice before heading for the kitchen. He got out a baking sheet, turned on the oven, and went to the pantry to grab his ingredients.

It’d been a while since he’d done this. He’d stopped around the time Maddie had gotten taken, then most of his spare time was spent helping Eddie sell his place and find one in Texas.

But now he had all the free time in the world, which meant he could bake until he ran completely out of flour- then head to the store for more.

As he began mixing the ingredients together for some shortbread cookies, his mind was in overdrive.

He couldn’t stop thinking. Thinking about all the good memories, the way he used to feel, how happy he was every time they made plans, what it was like having him there.

And he thought about how he felt now. How sad, lonely, heartbroken. The way he wished more than anything he could change how it all ended. How he wished the people he loved would learn to stay. How-

Oh.

The oven beeped to alert it was preheated at the exact moment Buck connected the dots.

He knew what he needed to do. What he had to do.

Quickly, he scrubbed his hands, shut off the oven, and grabbed his keys and a Ziploc bag from the freezer.

It was now or never.

*****

Buck knocked on the door, swaying from side to side anxiously as he waited for it to open.

He took a deep breath once the doorknob turned, needing a second to take in the sight in front of him.

Tommy standing there in sweats, a black henley, and his jacket. Hair slightly disheveled, eyes blinking rapidly to adjust to the sunlight.

“Ev- Buck, what are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you.”

“Okay." Tommy moved to the side. "Do you… you wanna come inside?”

“I won’t stay long. I- I’ve had a rough few weeks. It- Actually, it’s been a rough few months.”

“I heard about Maddie,” Tommy said. “I’m glad she’s okay. I would’ve called, but I didn’t think it was my place.”

“It would have been nice,” Buck replied bitterly, “to hear from you.”

Tommy nodded, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“That’s not- I’m not here because of that.”

“Okay. So... why are you here?”

“Eddie left today, for Texas.”

“To go visit Chris?”

“To move there. Y- You didn’t hear about that?”

“No,” Tommy answered, crossing his arms over his chest. “I haven’t spoken to Eddie since we broke up. Are you okay?”

“I was baking-” Buck held out the bag in his hand, giving it to Tommy, “here’s some cookies, by the way. Chocolate chip walnut.”

“My favorite.”

“I know. Anyway, I was baking and I realized that, I was sad. I was really, really sad. And angry. I- I felt betrayed, and lonely, and hurt.”

“Eddie was a good friend to you.”

Buck huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “It didn’t have anything to do with Eddie, Tommy.”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed, a second of confusion washing over him until realization hit. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Eddie’s always gonna be my friend. He- no matter where he is, I’ll be able to call or go visit, and I’m sure he’ll visit here with Christopher. It… It’s you, Tommy. I want you in my life. I- I know I screwed up. I didn’t think everything through, and y- you were right. I was being impulsive.”

“I screwed up too,” Tommy admitted.

Buck nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you did. I wasn’t aware there were rules to figuring out your sexuality and I- I didn’t realize that you went into this thinking I was just passing through-”

“Buck, that’s not-”

“Let me finish.” Buck took a breath, straightening up as Tommy pursed his lips. “I wasn’t using you as a way to test out whether or not I was really into men. You- Tommy, I was all in. It hurt me to think that you never were.”

Tommy waited a moment, then, “Is it okay to talk now?” he asked, voice quiet.

“I’m done.”

“When I asked you out that night, at your place, I had no idea you hadn’t ever been with another man. And when I found out, I decided right then and there that you could set the pace. However slow that pace was, it was on you. I didn’t realize your pace was a hell of a whole lot faster than mine. I didn’t know I’d spend the majority of the next six months out of breath, running to try and catch up-”

“Tommy-”

Tommy held up a hand. “Please, just… let me finish.”

With a little eye roll, Buck held his tongue.

“I’ve never known anyone who,” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “who cares as much as you. I’ve never had anyone care for me or stick around once they really got to know me and that scared me.”

Now it was Buck’s turn to wait a moment before asking, “Is it okay to talk now?”

“I’m done.”

“Love.”

Tommy blinked once. Twice. “Love?”

“You said no one had ever cared for you, but it wasn’t just that,” Buck replied, on a roll now. “It was- is- love. I love you, Tommy. That’s the only way I can explain it, and I should have said it before but I don’t think it even hit me until I was in my second week of trying to make the perfect sourdough bagels. I have never, ever felt the pain I felt when you walked out the door. I’ve never mourned a partner the way I’ve mourned you and I’ve never loved someone the way I love y-”

Suddenly, Tommy’s finger was hooked under Buck’s chin, lifting his head slightly, just enough to press their lips together.

Buck moaned into it and, when Tommy went to back away far too soon, Buck was grabbing onto his jacket and pulling him closer.

Tommy dropped the cookies, bringing his arms around Buck’s back and holding him tight.

“Evan,” Tommy panted as they finally parted for air. “Evan, I-”

“What?” Buck asked, noting the sad look on Tommy’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I dropped your cookies.”

Buck threw his head back with a laugh, grabbing onto Tommy’s face and kissing him again. “There’s plenty more where that came from, I promise.”

Tommy smiled softly, unable to tear his eyes away from Evan’s. “Can you say it again?” he asked.

“I love you, Tommy,” Buck said, no hesitation.

Tommy pulled Buck close, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “I love you too, Evan.”

Buck, feeling lighter and calmer than he’d felt in months, rested his head on Tommy’s shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You want to come in now?”

“I’d love that.”

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

"I still can’t believe that you aren’t freaking out!?"

Lizzie didn't even bother to open her eyes at that question.

She was laying sprawled out on the massive garden swing her father had built nearly two decades ago, with Mara curled up on her stomach like a massive judgemental heating pad. It helped some against the muscle aches that her latest seizure had left her with, and not really at all with the the feeling of tiredness and like she had been hit by a bus. 

Which was the reason why she was laying around on the garden swing and not actually help her father and Tasha’s mother with their…weekly gardening. 

Tasha poked her and Lizzie just sighed. 

 Tasha was completely and utterly unapologetic about interrogating her and Lizzie wasn't in the mood to actually answer her best friend slash pseudo sister slash whatever the heck you called the daughter of your godmother when your father was also her godfather.

Their little family it was, even when it wasn't the most normal one. Lizzie's father and Aunt Lou had grown up down the street together...had gone to school together, later on to university...and had been best friends all throughout that. They had each gone on to get married, and had Lizzie and Natasha weeks apart. Tasha's father had been died when she had been 2...and Lizzie's parents marriage had spectacularly imploded by the time she was 6 and after that...well. It had always been just the four of them.

"Because I'm not freaking out," Lizzie finally said with a deep sigh. She was trying to take another nap, but Tasha's incessant questions weren't exactly helping.

"You should be freaking out," Tasha said, completely disregarding Lizzie's need for peace. "Lando Norris, formula one driver, is reading your book!“

"And he's probably just reading it as a curiosity," Lizzie said, trying to rationalize things. She didn’t think that lando was actually going to finish the book. Romantasy was not the kind of things that a guy like Lando Norris would read for fun…and maybe that would make their eventual break up easier.

Even when there was a part of Lizzie that was melting about the fact that he had wanted to get Mara a gift for her birthday.

Still.

She drew her fingernails through Mara’s short chocolate brown fur. 

Tasha, however, wasn't having any of it. She gave Lizzie an unimpressed look. "Did you miss the part where Oscar Piastri is also reading it, because his girlfriend loves your series?"

Lizzie opened her mouth to respond but Tasha wasn't done yet. "We are talking about two formula 1 racers, who probably have tons of friends and maybe even more formula 1 drivers who are reading you book! They might even recommend it to the rest of the grid! And you don’t care! Who are you and what have you done to my Lizzie?!"

Lizzie couldn’t help but laugh at that, opening her eyes to look at Tasha energetically gesturing, blonde hair flying around as she twisted to look at Lizzie. 

"Maybe I am freaking out a little bit," Lizzie admitted drily. “I just don’t have the energy to get all animated right now.”

Tasha harrumphed. “This is like the most interesting your life has been in years!“ Tasha said brightly. “First cafe guy, now F1 drivers that read your books! How is cafe guy by the way?”

"Fine," Lizzie said vaguely.

Tasha noticed and raised an eyebrow. "Just fine?" Lizzie could see the beginnings of a smirk in Tasha's eyes, and she already knew where this was going.

“He’s traveling for work,” she answered truthfully. It wasn’t a lie…and she wasn’t ready yet to admit to exactly who she was dating. She was pretty sure that Tasha was going to have a heart attack if Lizzie came around the corner with “Oh, you know the guy I am seeing? It’s Lando Norris.”.

“He saw me posting for Mara’s birthday and is now insisting that he’ll get her a gift,” Lizzie said softly. 

Tasha's eyebrows shot up. "Wait, seriously? He's buying a gift for your dog’s birthday? That’s the cutest fucking thing I have ever heard."

Lizzie nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, can you believe it? It's kind of sweet, actually."

"It's definitely sweet. So sweet that I am gonna throw up," Tasha agreed, a knowing glint in her eye. "And it definitely doesn't sound like just a fling to me."

Lizzie pressed her lips together at that.

“Uh oh,” Tasha said drily. “What’s going on in that head of yours Lizzie Lou?”

Lizzie sighed. “It’s not like it matters.”

“Why wouldn’t it matter?”

Lizzie hesitated again, scratching Mara’s ears as a distraction. “It’s just… my mum left when she couldn’t handle my epilepsy. If she couldn’t stick around, how can I expect anyone else to?”

Tasha’s whole face scrunched up in immediate protest. “First of all, fuck her. Second of all, that’s not on you.”

Lizzie shrugged. “Maybe it’s not fair to put that on someone else, though. What if I love someone, and then they realize it’s too much?”

Tasha poked her in the forehead. “Then they don’t deserve you.”

Lizzie let out a humorless laugh. “You say that like it’s that simple.”

“It is that simple.” Tasha flopped onto the swing beside her, throwing her legs over Lizzie’s lap. “Look, I stick around. Mara sticks around. Your dad sticks around. My mum sticks around. We don’t do that because it’s easy. We do it because we love you.”

Lizzie slumped against the swing cushions. "I know, I know. You all love me. But that's different."

Tasha rolled her eyes, reaching down to whack Lizzie on the head. "Don't be an idiot. It's not different. Not one bit. We love you, and that's why we stick around."

"But it's just you guys," Lizzie argued, her voice muffled against the pillow, she buried her head into."Family is different. This is like, romantically sticking around."

Tasha scoffed. "Oh, so family love is stronger than romantic love? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Lizzie lifted her head to give Tasha a look. “No, you idiot. It’s just...it’s different, alright? Family is supposed to stick around. It’s like...a given. Romantic love...is supposed to be fun, and easy, and not have all these...issues.”

Tasha rolled her eyes. "Oh, right. Because the perfect relationship is one where nothing ever goes wrong and everything is sunshine and roses. That sounds like a load of horseshit to me.”

Lizzie groaned, burying her face into the pillow again. "You know what I mean. Obviously, relationships aren't always going to be easy. But...epilepsy isn't just a minor issue. It's a pretty big deal. A lot to handle."

Tasha ran her fingers through Lizzie’s hair, her touch surprisingly soothing. “Look, I’m not going to pretend like epilepsy doesn’t complicate things. Of course it does. But you’re acting like you’re some kind of burden, like you’re less deserving of love than anyone else. That’s bullshit, Lizzie. And you know it.”

“It’s just a shitty deal for anybody to take,” Lizzie mumbled. “He could have any other girl, any other girl that doesn’t get seizures, that doesn’t need a service dog.”

Tasha smacked her upside the head again, harder this time. “Shut up. God, you’re so bloody stupid sometimes.”

Lizzie winced, rubbing the spot where Tasha had hit her. "Ouch, that hurt."

Tasha snorted. "Good. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you."

Lizzie huffed, shoving Tasha’s legs off of her lap in retaliation. “I’m just being realistic here.”

“No, you’re being pessimistic,” Tasha retorted. “You’re basically assuming that this guy is going to run away as soon as things get difficult.”

“Well, what if he does?” Lizzie asked, her voice small. “What if he realizes that I’m not worth it?”

Tasha rolled her eyes. “Then he’s a total idiot, and he doesn’t deserve you anyway. And there is a million other good guys out there who would happily take his place.”

“I don’t want a million other guys,” Lizzie grumbled, feeling like a petulant child. “I want that one, I think.”

Tasha gave her a sympathetic look. “I know you do. But you’re sabotaging yourself before you’ve even given him a chance. Give him credit, yeah? Maybe he’s not as shallow as you think.”

Lizzie sighed, knowing that Tasha was right, but still feeling scared. "But what if he doesn't get it? What if he can't handle it when I have a seizure?"

Tasha shrugged. "That's a risk you take with any relationship, epilepsy or not. But you won't know until you give it a chance."

Lizzie opened her mouth to protest but Tasha cut her off. "Shut up. Don't give me any more of your stupid reasons. You just need to let it happen, alright?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but deep down she knew Tasha was right. "Alright, fine. I’ll try. But if it all goes to crap, I’m blaming you."

Tasha grinned. "Oh, I’ll gladly take the blame if that’s how it goes. But I think it’ll be fine. This guy already sounds way nicer than any of the guys you’ve dated in the past."

Aunt Lou’s laughter rang through the garden and Lizzie turned to watch her father and aunt laugh about something or other. They looked younger like that. Carefree. Unburdened.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” She asked Tasha with a sigh.

“Nah. They’ll be living in denial in 40 years when we visit them in their old people’s home,” Tasha said drily. “You know. Still having biweekly scrabble nights and making each other playlists filled with love songs…and sharing a vegetable garden.” 

“Girls! What are we thinking for dinner?!” Her father called loudly as he helped aunt lou to her feet.

Tasha shot Lizzie a small grin, her eyes glittering with amusement. "Think we can con them into ordering takeaway?"

Lizzie snickered, the tension in her shoulders relaxing at the familiar banter. “Worth a try. You do the talking.”

“Always do,” Tasha said with a mock salute. She hopped off the swing, grabbing Lizzie’s hand and tugging her up as well. “Come on. Let’s go get some pepperoni pizza.”

[jaijeijayjei]

Saw this on twitter and there is so much wrong with this argument I need to get it off my chest.

This person is watching these scenes with the assumption that "Jayce loves Viktor, Mel is just a stepping stone/placeholder" - textbook confirmation bias.

Mel has not unlocked her abilities yet. Case in point, her confrontation scene with Ambessa makes it abundantly clear she can't read her mother's inner emotions- she's shocked and confused for most of the fight.

Even if she was an empath - why would Mel pursue a romance with someone who supposedly doesn't truly love her? Mel has far more self respect than that.

(recycled from an old post) Do you really think Jayce is the type of person to use Mel for sex, comfort, and emotional support when he doesn't truly care about her? Even if you claim it's because he's lying to himself about his feelings for Viktor, if he's acting like he has genuine romantic interest for Mel without actually having those feelings that's still purposefully deceiving her- which is a crappy thing to do, and OOC for someone as caring as Jayce.

Tell me why this post showed a slowed down, zoomed in clip of Jayce's "words not reaching his eyes" when telling Mel nothing feels impossible when they're together? This isn't out of the blue for him- When talking about Hextech he tells even her, "I couldn't have done it without you." There is nothing to indicate he's being dishonest here.

She sent him to be with Viktor because his friend is terminally ill. If she was "handing Jayce over to his true love" then why does she continue to show romantic feelings towards him?

Overton herself has said they didn't have Jay/vik in mind when developing the show but that viewers are free to have their own interpretation BEYOND WHAT THE SHOW INTENDED. There is no way the writers and animators purposefully made this scene to mean "this is the moment Mel realizes Viktor is Jayce's true love." Even if you don't care about the writer's intentions- don't try to present this argument as canonical evidence to discredit MelJay when you're making huge leaps to get to those conclusions.

Imagine if Meljay shippers said "Omg when the scene transitions from Mel and Jayce together to Viktor alone, that means Jayce would rather be with Mel than his dying partner"- see how farfetched that sounds??

If I had a nickel for every time Mel's arcane powers are used to dunk on Meljay and prove their whole relationship is "actually" about Jay/vik I'd have a lot of nickels.

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter VI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 8.928 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW (p in v, unprotected, implied m!masturbation); Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

OMG Bonnie what is that? A JJ chapter? Yeah, maybe I went insane. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

JJ takes a slow step forward, his shoulders rolling back, his fingers still coiled tight around the handlebars of his bike. There’s a heat rolling off of him, a barely contained energy that makes your stomach twist.

His gaze drifts over to you. The rage burning through his eyes as he climbs down, drifting through Rafe’ arms, how they wrap around you, how close he’s holding you to him. – What’s going on, huh? – His voice is taught, barely restrained. You think of the hiss a rattlesnake makes before pouncing, the barely restrained violence simmering under each sound. – What are you doing here?

– I could ask you the same thing, Maybank. – Rafe hums. You call his name, trying to reel him back before it gets dangerous, but he seems entertained more than anything. – We’re a little far from the salvation army. Not much for you to do around here.

– Rafe!

The kook holds your hand to his chest when you push him, smiling down at you like it’s the funniest thing in the world. – I’m just having a little fun with him, that’s all.

– Get off of her, Rafe.

He’s looking at you with a focus that’s never a good sign, but don’t miss the way his eyes flick to where Rafe’s hand still lingers at your waist. The moment stretches, thick with the weight of his anger, but you can’t bring yourself to move first.

Rafe doesn’t bother hiding his grin. If anything, it grows, slow and deliberate, like this is the most fun he’s had all night. – Why? You scared she won’t come back when she realizes there’s more to life than being leeched off of by her brother’s friends?

– Rafe, this isn’t funny.

– JJ must think it is, it’s the only thing he does well. – Rafe drawls, tilting his head as he finally steps back from you—but not without dragging his fingers along your side, a pointed reminder. – Right, JJ?

JJ’s lips press into a thin line. His fingers flex around the handlebars, his nostrils flaring as he exhales hard through his nose. His gaze cuts to you now, sharp and demanding. – What the hell are you doing with this asshole?

His voice grates you. Every word echoing in your head like nails on a chalkboard.

– This is none of your business, JJ.

He doesn’t even pretend to hear you. – Kie told me what happened at work. We were all worried about you.

You open your mouth, but Rafe hums before you can speak, stepping in again, loose and easy, barely putting in effort but still commanding all the space between you. – Worried? Were you worried that you’re finally gonna have to get a job and deal with your own shit?!

– You don’t know what you’re talking about, okay?! Shut the fuck up!

– Or what? Are you gonna freeload off of me too?

JJ moves before you can stop him. His bike crashes to the pavement as he lunges, fists already clenched, fury twisting his face. Rafe barely shifts, like he’s been expecting this all along, like he’s been waiting for the moment he can finally push JJ over the edge.

– THIS SHIT ISN’T ABOUT YOU RAFE!

You step in fast, hands catching JJ’s arm before he can swing, your pulse hammering. – JJ, don’t. Fuck off. Don’t fucking do this right now.

– He’s the one who needs to fuck off! We’re talking right now, it’s none of his fucking business! – His breath is ragged, his muscles stiff under your grip. But Rafe just grins, smug and taunting, eyes alight with something dark. – Tell him to go away.

– You can’t tell me that yourself? Is that how much of a bitch you are, JJ?

JJ lunges, nearly pushing you into the asphalt by mistake. Rafe’s the one that catches you, his hand steadying you as you hold JJ back. – LET GO OF ME!

– JJ step the fuck back, I’m not even kidding you.

– He started it!

Rafe whistles lowly, laughing just under his breath as his arm wraps around you again. – Your brother really knows how to pick them, doesn’t he?

– Not helping, Rafe.

– I’m just trying to enjoy myself while you talk him down from his tantrum. I’m great.

– Stop fucking talking to her like that!

– Or what? You gonna hit me? – He muses, tilting his head, like the thought actually amuses him. – Go ahead, man. Take your shot. I bet it’ll feel real good.

JJ’s jaw tightens, his arm twitching under your hold. You can feel the war inside him, the barely restrained urge to throw that punch, to finally give Rafe the fight he’s clearly asking for.

But you don’t let go.

And JJ doesn’t swing.

For a second, the only sound is the thick silence between you.

Then Rafe sighs, exaggerated and disappointed. – Shame, – He mutters, stepping back, shaking his head like JJ’s let him down. – I was really hoping you’d play along, JJ. It’s been what? A week since you last got arrested? Has it ever been so long? I bet they’re missing you down at the station.

He flashes a grin at you, sharp and knowing, before brushing past, hands moving over your back like he owns you. – Y’know what, baby? We should really get going. I’m getting kinda bored.

– You’re out of your fucking mind if you think she’s going anywhere with you.

– JJ. – You warn, but he doesn’t seem to hear you.

– She came here with me, buddy. Maybe you wanna look around you. – He glances at you, blue eyes gleaming as he takes you by the arm. – C’mon. It’s getting late, right? Your brother’s probably struggling to figure out the oven right now.

– You don’t know what the fuck your talking about. – JJ growls.

– You’re gonna go home with this pogue? –The question comes out in a hum, almost condescendingly. His laughter thrills up your spine like a shiver of fear. – You’re gonna let him strongarm you like this?

You swallow, breathing in deep.

Rafe’s grip on your arm tightens, fingers warm against your skin, but you don’t move. His smirk twitches—just barely—before he tilts his head, watching you with curiosity, even if the smile he’s giving you doesn’t seem too pleased.

JJ notices too. He exhales sharply, barely holding himself together. – You’re not leaving with him.

His voice is low, coarse. And he’s clinging, moving his arms within your hold like a whiny kid. But it’s not a plea. It’s a demand.

Rafe hums under his breath, low and pleased, like this is all going exactly how he wanted. – She’s not staying for you, JJ. – He flicks his gaze over, like he’s looking at something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. – You have John B’s useless ass to thank for her not leaving with me right now.

JJ clenches his jaw so tight you swear you hear his molars crack. – Shut the fuck up, Rafe.

Rafe grins, slow and knowing. – I will if she makes me. Right, baby? Maybe you can give me a goodnight kiss before I go.

JJ takes a step forward, but you press a hand to his chest, stopping him. He seethes, nostrils flaring, but you shake your head. – Just go, Rafe. Please. – Your voice isn’t sharp—it’s tired, annoyed.

And that’s exactly why Rafe thrives on it.

He tsks, squeezing your waist in his hold on you before pulling his keys from his pocket. – That’s okay. We’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow, right? – He leans in, voice dipping lower. – You can make it up to me.

You sigh, rubbing your temple. – Rafe—

– You’re cute when you get all flustered. – He laughs, tapping your chin with his knuckle. – I’ll call you later.

JJ lunges, and it takes everything in you to shove him back.

Rafe just whistles, all relaxed amusement, stepping back with an easy grin. – Damn, Maybank, you’re really gonna let her hold you back like that?

JJ is shaking in anger, chest heaving.

Rafe doesn’t wait for an answer. He shoots you a wink and a lazy salute before finally turning away, tossing over his shoulder, – Don’t miss me too much, baby.

JJ exhales sharply, shaking off your hold. His head drops for a second, his hands clenching at his sides before he looks at you, eyes blazing. – What the hell was that?

You swallow hard, the weight in your chest pressing down heavy. – JJ—

But he shakes his head. – Nah. No way. You don’t get to brush this off. – His voice is rough, disbelief coating every syllable. – Tell me you’re not— He stops himself, exhaling sharply again before taking a step back, shaking his head like he’s trying to make sense of it. – Tell me you’re not seriously falling for this shit.

You don’t know what to say.

Because maybe you don’t have an answer he wants to hear.

– Oh my God. – You don’t know what exactly in his face shifts, but you feel the air around you thicken. – You are, aren’t you?!

– Spare me the outrage, JJ. I’m not in the mood for your lectures.

– The guy is a fucking psychopath! There’s no fucking way you do’t see that! He’s insane!

You roll your eyes, a sigh falling from your lips before you can think of it. – You say that like you’re some sort of model of normalcy.

– I can’t fucking believe you!

– I don’t fucking need you to believe me, JJ. Clearly you fucking don’t. It doesn’t matter what I say, you already have your pitchfork ready! So what exactly am I supposed to be getting out of this?! Huh? Tell me. – A beat of silence lingers between you, as you turn your back on him. It’s long past 6 PM. The sky is pitch-black. – Can we just go? I don’t wanna do this.

You can see the gears turn in his head when you speak. His eyes soften, jaw unclentching. – I’m trying to look out for you. – You scoff. – Look, I know you’re stressed and all, but you don’t need to be taking it out on me, okay?! Chill out.

– Thanks, Mother Teresa. I feel much calmer now.

– Can we just put down the boxing gloves, right now?!

– I don’t know JJ, can we? I can’t put my guard down with you for a moment. Because that’s what you do. You tell me I should calm down, and when I do, you come up with some insane shit to piss me off all over again!

JJ watches you, chest still rising and falling like he’s trying to catch a breath that won’t come. Then his expression shifts—like something clicks into place, like he’s realizing something he doesn’t like.

His lips curl, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek. – Are you serious? – His voice is quieter now, almost disbelieving. – This is where we’re at?

You shake your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat. – I don’t want to do this right now, JJ.

– Oh, that’s rich. You don’t wanna do this right now? – He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. – You wanna pick a better time? Should I make an appointment? Because it’s like you never have time for me these days! You’ll speak your mind, talk all the game you fucking want, but when it’s time to talk about my feelings, suddenly you’re too tired to deal!

Your stomach twists.

JJ scoffs. – You know, I keep trying. I keep trying to get through to you, and you just— He stops, shakes his head again, shoving a hand through his hair like that’ll help get rid of some of the frustration bleeding off of him.

– Trying to what, JJ? What is it that you’re trying to get through to me so much? That I can’t even talk to people while you go around fucking whatever girl you want? – The words come out before you can stop them.

– That’s funny, I don’t remember leaving with your mortal enemy!

– And I don’t remember kissing your best friend after leaving your bed, JJ. But here we are!

JJ goes still.

For a second, neither of you speak.

Then he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve just confirmed something he was trying not to believe. – There you go again, – He mutters, half in laughter, half in scorn. – You’re insane. Like. You’re actually sick in the fucking head. You and Rafe are perfect for each other. Maybe that’s why you’re here right? I was too normal, so you got bored. And that’s why you’re here in the Country Club, fucking that psychopath!

You stare at him, heart still pounding, but there’s something else gnawing at the edges of your mind now—something off. Something you didn’t notice in the heat of it all.

The country club.

You’re not at your job.

You’re not at home.

You’re not even on your side of the island.

Your stomach twists again.

– JJ, – you start, voice quieter now.

But he doesn’t hear it, or he doesn’t care. He scoffs again, throwing his hands in the air as he turns away, pacing. – I should’ve known. I should’ve listened to John B. He always said you were fucking twisted! But leave it to me! It’s my fault or thinking you could act like a person for once!

Your pulse stutters.

You don’t even register his words.

You don’t remember telling him where you were.

Your job isn't anywhere near the Country Club. You didn’t text him. You didn’t call him.

So how did he find you?

Your skin prickles as you stare at him, the words barely coming out. – JJ... how did you know I was here?

– What?! – He laughs, like you’ve just said something stupid, but you’re not gonna let him do this. Keeping your face neutral, even while your blood runs cold, you repeat:

– How did you know where I was? – He looks at you for a moment, frozen in place. You don’t even see him breathe. But the thoughts run wild behind his eyes, his mouth hanging open, unable to keep up with the speed at which his mind is running. – Answer me. How did you know I was here, JJ?

– I— He swallows, looking between each of your eyes frantically. – I was gonna pick you up at work,

– At a quarter to seven PM? You know I get the bus. It leaves at 5:20. You know that.

– Why are you making a big deal out of this?! I was driving to the wreck and I saw you here—

– No you weren’t. The wreck is East. To get here, you need to be going West.

He’s quiet again.

– Are you following me? How did you even— Realization dawns on you. JJ and John had your phone all day after you left. The notification you saw when you finally got it back, was from your maps app, which you’ve never opened in your life. You pull your phone out of your pocket. The location is on, but you don’t remember activating it. You open your messages. The latest contact is JJ. But you haven’t texted him in days. The chat is empty. – You sent my phone location to yourself, didn’t you? You and John are fucki— Your voice dies within your throat. The hair at the back of your neck standing. – John doesn’t have my password, though.

– You’re acting insane.

– How the fuck did you figure out my password, JJ? It’s a thousand characters long. I expect that shit from Pope, but— You stop again, opening your settings. A second fingerprint is set there, next to yours. – What the fuck is wrong with you?

– Don’t turn this around right now!

– That’s rich, JJ! And I’m the one who’s insane?! You’re a fucking stalker!

JJ scoffs, but it’s different now—less angry, more… wounded. Like you just slapped him in the face instead of uncovering something deeply fucked up. He shakes his head, stepping back like he needs distance from you.

– Are you serious right now? – His voice is quieter, rougher. – After everything?

You stare at him, blood still thrumming in your ears. – After everything? JJ, you just—

– No, you don’t get it. You don’t fucking get it. – He lets out a breathless laugh, dragging his hand down his face. – I knew something was off. I knew you were pulling away. I knew you were sneaking around, lying to me—

– I’m pulling away because you’re messing around with Kie!

– I’m not! Baby, I— He’s slapping himself, pulling out his hair. – I was trying to make you jealous, okay?! I just want you to pay attention to me! But you’re either glued to your phone talking to Barry, or you’re around John B, doing everything for him, everything I want you to do for me!

– What the fuck are you talking about?! He’s my fucking brother, JJ!

– BUT HE DOESN’T DESERVE IT! – He screams, the vitriol burning against his lips like acid. – He was always horrible to you, and I was there! I was there! I wanted you!

– What are you talking about?! You’ve hated me since we were kids!

– NO! I— I wanted you to look at me. I just wanted you to—Please. Just look at me, okay? I don’t want you sneaking around with Barry or with Rafe, or whatever! I want you here! With me!

– Sneaking around—JJ, you broke into my fucking phone—

– Because you wouldn’t fucking talk to me! – His voice cracks on the last word, and it throws you for a second—because the anger is still there, but there’s something else now, something desperate. His hands are in his hair, gripping like he’s holding himself together. – Do you even hear yourself? Do you even care? Or are you just gonna act like I’m some fucking psycho and not the guy who’s been there for you? The guy who—who has wanted you since I was kid?!

Your breath catches.

JJ exhales sharply, jaw clenching like he hates himself for saying it, for letting it slip out in the middle of this.

– You were there for me. – He continues. – When your brother couldn’t be. When my dad started— When he drank. You remember that, don’t you? You took care of me. You always took care of me. John B couldn’t get that! Even if he tried, y’know, who knows, maybe he did! But he was always this golden boy! Your dad, he— He treated him like he could do no wrong— He’d never get it. But you did! You always got me!

You’re quiet. Because you remember.

You remember taking a beating for JJ the day John sent you there to give him his surfboard. You remember laying there on the floor, his dad pulling you by the hair, because you stood there while JJ ran. You remember the face he made when his dad threw you out.

How he fell apart in your arms.

How you remained there, holding him, as he bled through your clothes.

And it tears you apart.

Because the way he spoke to you before, is exactly the way his father used to speak to him.

– But yeah. Sure. I’m the stalker. I’m the crazy one. – He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. – You’re so fucking worried about me following you, but you don’t care that you’re running straight to him! – His eyes flash with something sharp, something dark. – You think he gives a shit about you? You think Rafe fucking Cameron isn’t watching your every move, waiting for you to fuck up so he can sink his claws in? Like Barry did? – He steps forward, voice lowering like he’s telling you some ugly secret.

Your heart jumps in your chest at the mention. JJ knows this is a low blow. – You don’t know anything about Barry and me.

– I know he hurt you. – He’s almost pleading. – He hurt you because you were with him, when you should’ve been with me.

– JJ—

– I did this to protect you. Let me protect you. Like you protected me.

There it is. The flip.

You feel like you might faint.

JJ exhales shakily, his fingers flexing like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore. The anger is fizzling out, but what’s left is somehow worse—smaller. He looks at you, really looks at you, and suddenly it’s like all the fight drains out of him.

– I can’t keep doing this. – His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He shakes his head, eyes flickering away like he’s embarrassed, like you’ve just torn him down completely. – I don’t—I don’t know how else to prove it to you. How else to make you see that I just wanted to keep you safe.

His shoulders drop. He looks exhausted.

– But you don’t believe me. You won’t ever fucking believe me, will you? – He laughs, but it’s hollow, broken. – It doesn’t matter what I do. Doesn’t matter that I would literally die for you—Jesus Christ, I would, and you don’t even fucking see it. I’d do anything for you, and you’re just standing there, looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

– I mean—fuck, what am I supposed to do? Huh? – His voice cracks. His eyes are glassy now, but he swipes a hand over his face before anything can fall. – You want me to apologize? I will. You want me to beg? Fine. – He laughs breathlessly, shoulders shaking as he sinks down onto the curb like his body just gave up. – I’ll fucking beg.

Your stomach twists.

– Just— he exhales, hands clinging to your hips. – Can we go home? – His voice is so quiet now, so defeated. – Please. I don’t wanna fight anymore. I don’t wanna—fuck, I don’t even care. Just let me take you home. That’s all I want.

He looks up at you, and for the first time tonight, he looks fragile. Worn down. Like he’s carrying something too heavy for him, and the only thing keeping him from collapsing is you.

And God help you, part of you wants to believe him.

– JJ. – Your voice is sharp, but your hands are shaking. – This isn’t about that—this isn’t about you wanting to take me home. This is about what you did—

– I know! – he cuts in, his breath coming too fast, too uneven. His hands fist in his hair, like he’s trying to hold himself together by sheer force. – I know, okay? I fucked up, I fucking know— He stumbles over his own words, gasping, like the weight of it is physically pressing down on him. – But I can’t—

His voice breaks.

– I can’t lose you over this. Over Rafe fucking Cameron and his bullshit.

The air between you shifts. Something inside him just collapses.

– Please. – His chest is heaving, his eyes wet, his whole body trembling like he’s about to snap. – I don’t—I don’t know how to make you stay. I don’t know how to fix this. – His voice cracks again, and this time, his knees buckle.

You barely have time to react before he’s falling into you, grabbing fistfuls of your clothes, his breath hitching against your belly. His whole body is shaking.

– I’m sorry. – His words spill out in a frantic, broken rush. – I’m so fucking sorry. Please—please don’t go. Just—just let me take you home, baby, please—

His arms tighten around you, like if he holds on hard enough, he can force you to stay. And God, you shouldn’t. You should push him away, make him listen, make him answer for this.

But he’s crying.

JJ Maybank—loud, reckless, impossible JJ—is sobbing into you like a little kid, like he’s breaking apart right in front of you.

You inhale shakily, your hands hovering before you finally give in, falling before him on the ground, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his hair.

– It’s okay, – you whisper, even though it isn’t. Even though nothing is.

But it’s all he wants to hear.

JJ exhales sharply, his whole body collapsing into yours with something like relief. – Don’t leave me.

– I won’t.

And maybe you mean it.

Maybe that’s the scariest part.

You let him fall apart against you, his body wracked with silent tremors as he clings to you like a lifeline. His breath is uneven, ragged, hot against your skin, and his fingers fist into your top, desperate, like letting go isn’t an option. He presses closer, his whole body sinking into yours, like he’s trying to disappear inside you, like that’s the only place he might be safe.

And you let him. You hold him as his shoulders shake, as he fights to keep from outright sobbing, as the weight of whatever broke him presses down so hard you swear you can feel it, too. He’s unraveling in your arms, piece by piece, like he’s been holding himself together for so long that the second you touched him, he lost the strength to keep pretending.

So you kiss the top of his head, soft but steady, and something in him shifts.

JJ exhales, a long, shuddering breath against your skin, like you’ve reached inside him and pulled all that tension from his chest. His body, wound so tightly, begins to loosen—his grip on you eases, but only enough for his hands to smooth over your back instead of clutching desperately. He leans into you now not just from pain, but from something quieter, something softer.

You feel it in the way his breathing slows, in the way the tremors start to fade as your fingers trace slow circles over his back. His arms tighten around you again, but it’s different this time—not frantic, not desperate. Just… needing you. Needing to be here, against you, in your warmth, in this small, quiet moment where he can finally let go.

His face stays buried in the crook of your neck, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse but steady.

– I’m sorry, – He murmurs, again and again, lips moving against your skin.

You shake your head slightly, your fingers still stroking his back. – It’s okay.

And maybe for him, it actually is. Maybe just for a moment, with your hands in his hair and his body wrapped around yours, he feels something like peace. He doesn’t let go—not yet. He holds on, reveling in the comfort you offer, pressing into you like he never wants to leave. Like you’re the first real breath of air he’s had in a long time.

You stay like that, until the silence grows too heavy and you sigh. – We should go.

JJ doesn’t argue. He pulls back slowly, blinking, his eyes still red-rimmed but calmer, softer. His fingers linger at your waist before he finally steps up, exhaling like he’s reluctant to leave the space you created for him.

The drive is quiet, with him pulling your arms tighter around him everytime he gets the chance. You don’t protest. For a moment it's almost comforting, sitting on the back of his bike, without a word being spoken between you. But the feeling sits there, in your chest, that shiver you got when you realized he’s been following you.

It's not just caution.

It's not strangeness.

It's fear. A real, tangible fear of what he did, of what he can still do. Of what he might have continued doing had you not realized it. —It curls up around your throat, that fear. Pressing against your windpipe. You almost struggle to breathe.— You remain there, arms fastened around him as he slows down, pulling the brakes just before your house, even when he finally stops.

JJ leans back into you, breathing deep, clutching your hand to his chest, his body completely relaxed against yours. You’re still wondering. Mind still running.

How long had he followed you for?

Had he been trailing you? Close behind, just out of reach, or had he stared at your location, waiting, watching you without seeing you?

You don’t know which is worse.

– John B’s with Sarah tonight. – JJ mumbles, his head thrown back against your shoulder, the ends of his hair tickling your face. – I saw him sneak out. He’s probably gonna sleep there. – You hum, not really sure of what to say. – Pope and Kie are gone too. – His thumb brushes over the back of your hand slowly, his voice growing deeper, lower. – It’s just the two of us now.

You don’t say anything.

You don’t know what to say.

JJ looks back as you throw your leg over the other side of the bike, and climb down. He still clings to your hand like he’s got you on a leash: you have to remain there as he pulls the key from the ignition, as he sets his things in the top-box, as he leans back against the seat, pulling you in for a kiss.

You meet his mouth briefly, close-lipped, his fingers interlocking with yours as he pulls you in for another, and another, and one more. – I missed this. – He whispers, eyes barely open, already leaning in again.

– It’s been two days. – You remind him, but JJ only laughs.

– Two too many.

You don’t resist when he pulls you closer. His hands find your hips, sliding beneath the waistband of your jeans, calloused fingers pressing into the small of your back like he’s trying to mold you against him. He kisses you again—deeper, messier, his breath warm and tinged with something desperate.

JJ doesn’t just want this. He needs it.

That's what you like about him. He takes like he can’t get enough. He begs, and he grasps and he clings and he needs you like he needs air to breathe.

His hands are restless, traveling up your ribs, down your waist, over your thighs, like he’s trying to make up for lost time, like touching you might steady him, might ground him. But it doesn’t. The more he touches you, the more insatiable he gets. He’s humming against your lips, sighing into your touch, a little frantic, a little unsteady.

You pull him inside, but JJ can’t seem to break the kiss. He takes your hands to the hem of his shirt, tugging impatiently, his lips dragging from your mouth to your jaw to your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin between whispered pleas.

– Touch me, – he breathes, his voice cracking like the weight of everything is still right there, lingering beneath the surface.

Your fingers slip into his hair, threading through the strands, and JJ shudders. He melts against you, knees almost buckling as he exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

– Fuck, – he mumbles, almost laughing, giddy and drunk on your touch. He’s clinging to you now, pressing his body into yours, murmuring against your lips, deeper, please, until you give in, kissing him the way he wants. The way he needs.

He moans softly, hands gripping your waist, pushing your top up just to feel your skin against his palms. He’s lost in this, lost in you, smiling against your mouth in that dazed, breathless way, like nothing else exists beyond the way your body fits against his.

Like everything is fine.

Even it isn’t, not really.

You lead him to your room, kicking the door behind you as he falls back on the bed, tearing his shirt off of him as if it were burning. He doesn’t even give you the time to think before he’s pulling you on top of him.

You try to guide him through the motions, letting his hands explore, letting him pull you closer, letting him bury his face in your neck, all while your mind is somewhere else. Detached. Floating.

Because underneath it all—beneath the heat of his mouth and the weight of his body and the way he pleads for you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart—there’s that feeling.

That cold, creeping thing at the back of your mind.

That fear.

It wraps around your throat, pressing tight, squeezing, reminding you of what he did. Of how long he must have followed you, watching, waiting, just out of reach.

Of how much worse it could’ve been if you hadn’t noticed.

JJ doesn’t see it. He doesn’t feel it. He only sees you, only feels your hands, your lips, the comfort he’s so desperate to take from you.

– I missed this, – he murmurs again, voice slurring slightly, hands still moving, still searching. – Fuck, baby I missed this so much.

You swallow hard, exhaling slowly, before finally answering.

– I know.

And you let him keep touching you, let him revel in this, let him have this, because maybe if he does, he’ll calm down. Maybe if he does, you’ll feel safe again.

JJ exhales against your skin, his body completely unwound, pliant beneath your hands. – Take it off. – He groans, hands shaking against his breeches. – Take it off of me, baby. Please. I just want you to be on me. I need it. Please.

You don’t need to be told twice.

He watches, almost breathless while you strip him bare, moaning at every touch, hips bucking every time you brush against him.

That doesn’t last long though.

It isn’t enough that just your hands are on him. So he drags you onto his dick, still clothed, and he grinds himself into you, eyes rolling back.

There’s something raw about the way he touches you—like he’s savoring every inch, like he’ll be going through withdrawal unless he doesn’t hold on tight enough. His fingers dig into your sides as he pulls your hips into his, his laugh breathy, almost delirious.

– God, I fucking love this, – he mutters against your shoulder, his hands slipping beneath your top, his thumbs brushing lazy circles over your skin.

This.

Not you—this.

The warmth. The closeness. The way you let him touch you, take what he needs. – You love this too, right baby? Your hips— He moans, head thrown back when you roll your hips against his cock, the fabric of your jeans giving just the friction he needs to work himself up. – You're so fucking good at this.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he kisses up your throat, his lips tracing familiar paths, his breath hot and unsteady. He hums when you card your fingers through his hair again, pressing into your touch like he’s melting from the inside out.

He's getting wilder, humping you with this reckless abandon he never seems to shake off. But you can see him unraveling. Just the friction isn't scratching the itch.

He needs more.

– Take it off, baby. Please. Please. – he sighs, voice catching, eyes blown out. – Fuck, give it to me. Just ride me.

You hesitate. Your fingers still against the nape of his neck. The sounds he makes, strangled, anguished. Like he’s going mad.

You actually hear him whine when you lift your hips, and his hand flies down to palm himself while he watches you pull the jeans down.

He tilts his head up, catching your mouth again, dragging you deeper into him. His hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer until he's practically in you.

But you don’t let him sink in just yet.

It's more fun when you drag it out.

When you move against him, teasing him, watching him twitch and moan and plead with nothing but the wetness, the softness, the warmth.

There’s a slow, creeping sickness curling in your stomach.

Because you’re leading this. Because you know what he needs, and you’re not quite giving it to him. Because you’re letting him press closer, letting him unravel, letting him forget—for just a little while—that anything is wrong at all.

And a part of you wants to forget too.

It feels good.

It doesn’t matter what he did, what he would do, because he needs you. He can’t get enough of you. He won't leave.

– Please. Please. – He repeats it like a mantra, writhing beneath you, clutching you so fucking tight. His hips go rogue, bucking wildly. – Please let me fuck you. I need to fuck you. Please. Fuck, I can't take this anymore!

The laughter that falls from your lips almost seems to stoke the flames.

He groans out loud when tip pushes into you, and for a second, his entire body just collapses against yours, heavy, needy.

Then his hands slip under your bra again, tugging at the fabric, his breath hot and desperate against your skin.

– Let me see you, – he murmurs, voice thick, rough. – G-Go ahead, baby. I need you to move. Please.

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen, his expression open in a way that makes you ache.

JJ wants you. That much is obvious.

But more than that—he wants to disappear into you.

To sink into your warmth, your touch, your body, and let it drown out whatever’s eating him alive from the inside.

Your stomach twists.

His fingers have long stopped tracing slow patterns against your ribs, now he's bruising you, nails digging in, shaking, waiting. Pleading.

You could give him what he wants. It would be easy. So, so easy.

But for the first time since this started, you wonder if you should. – And who said you deserve that, JJ?

– Huh?

– Because with the way you talked to me before, I don’t think you do. – You move, just slightly, and he folds, back arching. – I think you’re gonna have to convince me.

– Please. Baby, please.

– You think I'm pathetic. – You tsk, your hips rolling so slow his eyes flutter when they roll back. – I'm not the one who’s begging, though.

– Please! – He's screaming now, and you’re moving faster. The bed creaking beneath you. – I need it! Faster, baby. Faster!

He's splayed out, a puppet with the strings cut loose, yet he's anything but relaxed. You can feel him tensing, hands fisting the sheets so tight his knuckles have gone white.

He screams.

Almost yelping when you start going at the pace you know he likes. And it still isn't enough. He still grabs your hips, pulling you closer, and closer, again and again, banging against that soft spot within you like it's the only thing that can relieve him from this torture.

And you let him.

You ride him like a bronco, as if he’s trying to fuck you off instead of closer. As if he isn't begging for it. Screaming for it. – MORE, BABY, PLEASE!

You want more too.

At some point you lost yourself in trying to punish him, and it started to feel good. You're biting him, teeth dragging against the skin at the crook of his neck, the spot that always makes him shudder, that always makes him writhe.

Your nails have mapped half his body over.

He's red. —His face, his eyes, his lips, his scratches.— He’s gasping. Shaking. His whole body trembling, his eyes rolling back. You can’t even make sense of what he's saying anymore.

The only thing that leaves his mouth are these incoherent pleas, these oohs and aahs that make you laugh, humming to yourself as you ride into your orgasm, feeling him fall apart.

– F-uck, fuck! Don’t stop! Feels so fucking good baby, so fucking good! – He pushes it in faster, but it's still not enough. He needs more, he was going mad! Grabs you by the waist, tosses you on the bed, rutting like a wild dog, head thrown back, eyes rolling upwards. – Fuck! Fuck! Feel s-feel so fucking good!

All that was heard was your laughter, the pleased little gasps that escape your mouth as he fills you up over and over and over again, animalistic and heaving, laughing as well, but out of his mind, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the building release. He crashes against you, once, twice, getting careless. But by then he couldn’t hold it in. More! More! is all you heard from him.

And then you felt it.

His body shudders all over again, still rutting like his life would end. – God. God! I need to cum— fuck! I need— I need— Keep going! Don’t fucking stop baby, don— FUCK! FUCK!

You felt him coat your walls, white, hot, and endless. By then, you were shaking as well, the waves of your own climax washing over you as you arch against him.

He collapses over you, trembling and crying as he smiles, moaning your name in that shaky, adoring voice, eyes clinging to you in utter joy as he pumped lazily, through your climax and his, he still needed more of you. – It won-won’t stop. Fuck, there’s so m-much of it. – Laughter. Yours, his.

Your mind is blank.

He's heavy, heaving, still inside you.

JJ's breathing is ragged, each exhale a shaky whisper as he remains, still there, still trembling with the aftershocks. His hands wander aimlessly across the sheets, his body warm and heavy, as though he's been consumed entirely. His eyes are half-lidded, unfocused, and a soft whimper escapes him as he reaches for your hand.

– Baby... can you...? – His voice is slurred, broken, as if he’s still caught between the pleasure and the exhaustion of it all. His hand gently tugs at your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin. – Just... touch me. Please... softly.

There was that, too.

He was always sweeter when he was done.

You give a soft, reassuring smile, your fingers gently grazing his messy hair, pushing the strands out of his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, lingering for a moment before you speak in the same soft, soothing tone. – I’m here, JJ. I got you.

He hums in response, his eyes fluttering closed, a content sigh escaping his lips as you run your fingers through his hair, the action slow and comforting. – I’m... Fuck— Laughter buzzes against your skin as he presses his lips on you again. – I'm never getting used to this... I’m not used to this, – he mumbles between shaky breaths, his hand coming to rest on your arm, the weight of his touch grounding him. – Feels... too good. I need you to... keep me close. Just... just a little longer.

You hate the way your heart skips.

But you love the way he says it.

The way his voice brushes against your skin when he pleads, so softly, so sweetly. Like he could never do you harm.

You shift slightly, pulling him into your chest, the warmth of his body a constant reassurance. His hand rests over your heart, the frantic pace of his pulse now slowing, but his face is still pinched with that lingering tension, a mix of exhaustion and need for reassurance. He lets out a soft groan as you press your lips to his temple, whispering, – I’m right here. You’re okay.

His breath evens out, and as the minutes pass, you keep stroking his hair and kissing his head, each kiss lighter than the last, until his body relaxes fully, his grip on you loosens. – Love you.

You feel yourself tense up.

It’s not the first time he says it.

But it might be the first time you know he doesn’t mean it.

Still you smile down at him anyway, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before whispering back, – Sure you do, baby. Go to sleep, okay?

He doesn’t need much encouragement.

JJ's never been easy to tire out, but when he does, it's immediate. His ear is pressed to your chest, to your heart, and you wonder what kind of dreams he’ll be having with that soundtrack, but it doesn't take long for his breath to even out.

The house is quiet.

Completely so.

And though you're glad John wasn't there to hear it, laying there, without his snoring to lull you into even halfway into reality only means that it crashes against you like a bucket of cold water a soon as JJ is out.

The day dawns on you, as it has done several times, but still the loathing blooms in your chest and spreads through your body faster than your mind can process.

You're broke.

You're jobless.

The girl you thought was your best friend is a snake.

The boy that's sleeping on you is a stalker.

Your best prospect right now is famously the most spoiled and volatile person on the island. That, because your best friend, the person that could actually get you out of this, has faded away after abandoning you, and you have no idea if he’ll even come back.

What's funny is that this is the thought that hurts you most —Not that you're unemployed, that your now previous boss could ruin you forever, that your relationship with only family member is as unstable as your financial situation, or that the people you thought you could trust don’t care about you— that Barry is gone.

Something he has been plenty of times before.

You lie there in the stillness, the weight of JJ's body pressing against yours. The sheets feel too warm, too much, a world you can’t find a way into. JJ’s steady breathing is a lullaby of sorts, pulling you toward the edge of exhaustion, but it’s not enough to quiet the thoughts tumbling relentlessly in your head.

Barry's absence gnaws at you —You know he’s not gone forever, not really. Or at least you hope so. He’s done this before, pulled away just long enough for you to convince yourself it doesn’t matter. And yet, it hurts like it does. Like it’s different this time.

You turn your head to glance at him—JJ, still sleeping soundly, unaware. His face is soft, the usual edge to his features dulled by exhaustion, but even now, with him so vulnerable in your arms, you feel the invisible distance between you grow. He’s a comfort, but only in the way a warm blanket can make you feel safe when the storm is too loud. And it is too loud. So loud you can barely breathe through it.

Your fingers trace patterns along his skin, but it’s absent, mechanical—the world outside the room, the boy in your arms, the life that’s slipping from your fingers, and the ghost that won’t stop haunting you, and you don't even know why.

Barry.

You know, deep down, that it’s not about him being gone. It’s about the fact that, despite what JJ has just tried to convince you of, Barry actually is the one person that was there for you.

When your father went away, he celebrated with you. When he was declared missing, he comforted you, even if you said you didn't care. Even if you didn't even know you needed it.

And maybe that's the problem: He saw you better than you saw yourself. He knows you. Really knows you.

But does he now?

So much has changed in two days.

You can’t even tell yourself it was real anymore because everything you thought you knew about him, about you, is shifting—becoming something else you can’t identify.

There’s no way to put a name to it, though, is there? That dull ache you’ve learned to live with. Not quite loneliness, but not contentment, either. Just an empty space where hope used to live, and you're so used to it now that you don’t know what it would feel like to fill it.

You let your gaze fall to JJ again, watching the way his back rises and falls with the easy rhythm of sleep. Maybe this is it—this is what you have now. A boy who doesn’t even know what he’s asking for when he whispers his need into the quiet night. And you, too tired to push him away, too lost to turn to anything else. You can almost convince yourself it’s enough, and for a second, you do.

But then, Barry’s face flickers in your mind again, like a ghost.

You wonder, just for a moment, if you would’ve been able to say anything if he were here. If you would’ve told him how much you needed him to help you, how much you needed him to be here, not just physically, but with you in the way that only he ever did.

But he’s not here.

And you’re not sure when he will be again.

The buzz of your phone slices through the silence. You freeze. What's the likelihood that he would call you right then, when you needed him most?

You slide from under JJ, and he grumbles, hands reaching for you even deep into sleep, but you don’t see it. All you see is the unknown number flashing on your screen amidst the darkness, and your heart races as you bring the phone to your ear. – Bee? – The word falls from your lips almost fearfully. You don’t want to know where he's been, what he's doing, or how much of what he had to take to call you like this, in the middle of the night. But you’re impatient to hear his voice, you just want to know if he's okay. – Bee, is that you?

The line scratches softly, the familiar sound of skin whispering against the microphone echoing in-between the two phones. Your pulse thrums against your ear. – Not bee. – You finally hear. – Are, actually.

– “Are”? Barry, what are you talking about? What did you take?

– It’s not Barry, baby. – The edge of his words resounded even through the distance. Pleased, but not quite satisfied. – It’s Rafe.

You let go of a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.

– Oh, “R”. Okay I got it.

He chuckles, a long, breathy noise. His breathing is heavy. – Did you put the cry-baby to sleep or is he still up whining?

JJ turns in his sleep. His arm, still lying, lax, over your lap shifts, and he pulls himself closer, brow brushing against your thigh. – JJ is… gone.

– Good. Thought I was gonna have to call CPS or some shit. – He scoffs, turning, in bed, you gather, since you hear the squeak of furniture.

– How considerate.

– Well, baby, I'm nothing if not considerate. – He hums. – What are you doing awake?

Regretting your life decisions, pondering the benefits of suicide. – Thinking of you. – It was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t sound like one as it slipped from your lips.

There's half a second of silence from him before you hear that laugh again, like you shocked him.

Rafe Cameron was shocked.

That's definitely a headline.

You can almost hear the smirk on his face. – I was thinking about you too, baby. What are you wearing?

You scoff, almost rolling your eyes. – Rafe.

He laughs again, even breathier. – Sorry. Was that too soon? – His bed creaks again. – You don’t seem like the kind of girl who needs a lot of foreplay.

– Hilarious.

– I was really hoping you'd give me a taste of what you’re wearing tomorrow, though.

You look down almost unconsciously. The only thing covering your skin is sweat. – Definitely not what I'm wearing right now. Unless you're hiring for a job other than personal chef.

Rafe’s quiet again. He moves around. You can hear him breathing. – Maybe I am. What kind of job are you thinking?

– Well, aren’t you the little hiring agency? Should've met you before. There’s some things on my resume I'm definitely not proud of. – He laughs with you now, though there's something strange in his tone. – Did you talk to your governess, or that other guy you said you didn't know the name of?

– Did. We'll be waiting for you.

– Well, you call and I come. – He laughs at the double-entendre, another noise escaping his lips. – What time should I be there?

– How's 10 AM sound?

– Perfect, Rafe. Thank you. Again, really. I can’t thank you enough.

– You're welcome, baby. You really are. – He groans, the bed creaking. JJ moves around again, his head on your lap, hands around your knees, and he mumbles something unintelligible. – What was that?

– Sorry, uhm. Just… thinking out loud.

You swallow, but Rafe doesn’t miss a beat. – And what are you thinking about?

– About… What I'm gonna wear. – Improvising was never really your forte.

Rafe hums, a long stretch of the M, then something smaller, a sound you can't quite catch. – That skirt. – He sighs. – The blue pleated one.

You pause.

– What?

– It's pretty. – Is all he says, then a groan, or a purr. The phone falls on his pillow, you can hear it scratch against his skin as he moves. But the way he says it, as if he’s seen it a thousand times in the two days you've known each other, as if he can picture you wearing it right in front of him. – Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty.

The compliment grates at your ears.

How does he know your clothes?

You think of the skirt. Your blue pleated skirt. It's been ages since you've worn it. It's way too short. You’ve outgrown it a while ago. – What else, baby?

– Hm?

– What else are you wearing for me?

His bed creaks again, over and over, and he doesn’t say anything for a minute, he just sighs.

– I, uhm. I don’t know. – What even is this conversation?

– Far as I'm concerned you don't need to wear anything. You can come— He laughs, low and unsteady, a strangled “yeah” cutting through the word. – Come as you are.

You feel a trickle of repulse run down your back. You don’t wanna talk to him anymore. You don’t want to talk at all.

– Talk to me, baby. – He groans, again.

– I, uhm. – You kick the nightstand, the noise echoing loudly around your room. – Shit, uhm. Sorry, that's my brother. I'll see you tomorrow.

You kill the line before he can say anything else.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @sassyvillaintrophy @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss

[scoupsakakitty]

Beautiful | idol!Hoshi x idolxReader | angst, fluff

Tw: weight loss, not feeling enough

The rain poured relentlessly, blurring the neon lights of Seoul into streaks of color as Hoshi stood outside the apartment building. His fingers clenched around the umbrella handle, though he wasn’t sure why he had bothered bringing it. He was already soaked, and something about the cold seemed fitting.

He hesitated before pressing the buzzer.

Silence.

Then, a static-laced voice: "Who is it?"

Hearing her voice after all this time nearly broke him. "It’s me."

A long pause. Too long.

"Go home, Soonyoung."

He swallowed. "I just want to see you. Please."

"Don’t you have something better to do? Like catching a flight to Japan?" she said bitterly.

"I’ll take the next flight," he replied without hesitation. "You’re more important."

More silence, then a click. The door unlocked. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and stepped inside.

Y/N was thinner than he remembered. The weight loss was noticeable even under the oversized hoodie she wore, sleeves pulled over trembling fingers. Her once-bright eyes were dull, lips slightly chapped, the kind of exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix settled deep in her features.

Seeing her like this made his chest tighten. This wasn’t the Y/N he knew.

"You shouldn’t be here," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Hoshi ignored the warning, stepping inside fully. "I had to see you. I had to know if you were okay."

She let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through her tangled hair. "Do I look okay to you?"

No. She looked like she had been barely holding on, like she had been drowning in something she couldn’t escape from. And the worst part? He hadn’t been there to pull her out.

"I’ve been watching you… on stage, in interviews, award shows. You’re disappearing, Y/N. You’re hurting," he admitted, voice raw. "Your friend reached out to me. She’s worried. And she thought maybe… maybe I could help."

Her eyes flashed. "And what? You think you can just come back and fix me? That your presence will magically make things better?"

"No," he whispered. "But I can be here. I can hold you up if you let me."

She scoffed. "You left, Soonyoung. And now you want to be my savior?"

"I never stopped caring," he said, his voice shaking. "I never stopped loving you."

That was the breaking point. Her lips trembled, and before she could stop herself, she collapsed into his arms.

"It’s so hard, Soonyoung," she sobbed into his chest. "No matter what I do, there’s always something wrong with me. I’m never pretty enough, never talented enough. Always too much or too little. They find every flaw, every mistake. The pressure is… it’s crushing me."

He held her tightly, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "Y/N, listen to me. You are the most beautiful person in the world. And not because of how you look. You are beautiful for the way you think, for the sparkle in your eyes when you talk about something you love, for your ability to make people smile without trying."

She clung to him, her breathing ragged.

"I am proud of you," he continued. "I am proud of you for trying, even when it hurts. I wish I could tell you when you’ll finally feel okay again, when your head will be above water, but healing isn’t something you can time. It isn’t something you can measure. But things will get lighter, little by little, as you break through the weight on your shoulders. Keep facing what you need to face. You are getting closer every single day, even if it doesn’t feel that way. And I hope you start to believe that you are worthy of everything you want in this life. You deserve to be adored and cared for in every way your mind, body, and heart long for. You are effortlessly beautiful. You are the embodiment of beauty. Don’t let anyone tell you differently."

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. "Why do you still love me? After everything?"

He smiled sadly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "The only feeling stronger than my love for you is the ache that comes with missing you. I love everything about you. Maybe too much. But how could I not love that smile, that laughter, those eyes, that passion?"

Her breath hitched, fresh tears pooling in her eyes.

"I hate you," she whispered, voice trembling.

"I know," he said softly, pressing his forehead against hers. "Hate me all you want. Just let me stay."

She let out a shuddering breath and, after what felt like an eternity, nodded against his chest.

Soonyoung held her, his arms tightening around her fragile frame, and for the first time in months, she let herself lean into the warmth she had been missing.

Outside, the rain kept falling, washing away the past, making room for something new.

[purple-paige-purple]

my main pazzi evidence!

hey guys, people have been asking me to give me reasoning as to why i think pazzi is real so here ya go. there is A LOT more i could say and a ton more evidence but imma try to piece my basic thoughts together explain as much as i can consicely.

1. their general vibe

ok lemme say first of all, the thing that pisses me off most about pazzi deniers is that they dont acknowledge hard evidence. like hand placement, eye contact, the "is it spit" video, etc. but the thing that's the absolute kicker to me is their entire vibe around each other.

i think the animal letter/pillow video is a really good example of this. start by imagining how you would play that game with your friends, even your closest friends of ten years. would you giggle at them and smile at them the way that p + a look at/talk to each other? probably not. (and if you do, babes im gonna hold your hand when i tell you this...) the entire video was just not something you'd expect from friends AT ALL.

also. the way paige's ENTIRE demeanor changes near azzi. duuuuude its so adorable. any time she's talking to azzi, and even sometimes when azzi is within earshot, paige's voice softens SUBSTANTIALLY and she becomes more thoughtful and calm. an example of this would be kk's (second) crumbl live in the bedroom, when azzi walks in and all of a sudden paige is now giggling quietly as opposed to cracking up loudly like she was before. i think its the whole "calming presence" idea and p + a really both are each other's anchor.

also u don't go on a cruise with your best friend and act the way they acted (and posted).

2. the hard evidence

the aforementioned "is it spit" video. like bro. no matter what the fuck azzi said, what paige responded was extremely suggestive, and azzi's reaction to it just proves that. paige we know that ur faggot ass's favorite tongue movement to lets just take a chill pill on live tv (jk pls dont stop keep feeding our delulu pazzi shipper asses)

another piece of hard evidence: "happy birthday to the precious princess 💗" OK PAIGE WE KNOW SHES UR WIFE. paige wanted to say "my precious princess" so bad its so obvious

paige and azzi also have not shut down ANY rumors or even spoken on the subject of their suspected relationship. instead, i would go so far as to say they've fed into it, the posts about each other, the continuous posting of the "💗" emoji even though the entire internet has a suspicion about what it means. this also ties into the fact that they do have social media, paige is active a lot, their teammates are active, and they definitely (no matter how) seeing these pazzi edits. they are OUT THERE and even the announcers know it.

ice and kk's faces whenever p + a are flirting got me ctfu every time. ice does not try to hide it AT ALL and even though i think kk tries, once in a while she makes a face (the interview where she is in the middle of them)

3. no other relationships/their dynamic

lets be generous to the deniers and say that they've only had smth (a relationship, whether it be serious or not) since 2021. they have not been with anyone since. i will say it again. they have not been with anyone since. with their popularity and how gorgeous/attractive they both are, i feel like if they were seen close with anyone, we would know about it. fine, someone could say they are just both locking in to school and bball, but i really just think p + a work so well together and basically have the same schedule so there is pretty much no negatives to them being together, therefore no reason why it would take away from school/bball. i think they are each other's person and really just compliment each other so well (opposites attract!)

basically the way they act is not how "just friends" act. i dont make the rules 🤷🏻‍♀️

ok so thats my basic thoughts. i could LITERALLY go on for pages (and i will if you guys want!) just let me know (send me an ask or smth) and ill make more posts with more evidence and just basically debriefing it. ok thank u girlypops for listening to my ted talk

ps. thank you to @elliesglock for debriefing some of the uconn lives, pls continue bc they are so fun to read and u have such good thoughts on everything!