#Mutual who I think is incredibly cool for ONE

[bsaka7]

🌠 hello!

this is a carfucker safe space. THEEEEE first carfucker tag i went through on here and let me say. #solidarity

excerpts of readings u post on a variety of topics... i do read a good Chunk of them and i think it's remarkable how u manage to both be active in fandom on here and in deep intellectual thought on communism, fascism, and so much else. it goes without saying that i find what you engage with thought-provoking and sometimes deeply relevant to like. my literal job. i think for me it's easy to forget like. working an 8-5 or whatever. that i can and should be pushing my mind further and engaging more in the world as i can and doing so more often.

seb Lewis fernando these old men FUCK. to me i have only been on f1blr since summer 2021 so not so long!!! and i associate u with a longer history of f1 as well as an assortment of posts that i don't see elsewhere.... and i love it. I've come around to fernando. He's so strange.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

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[salsflore]

love everyone who has ever been nice to me. i’d very much like to give each and everyone of you a hug

[yeehawvampy]

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[avis-writeshq]

platform ten – spencer reid

summary: two months after he embarrassingly got caught ogling at the pretty girl on the train, Spencer’s team begins to suspect something.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

genre: friends to lovers, rated G for mutual pining and second hand embarrassment. no use of (Y/N).

warnings: fluff, boy band spencer reid (caution, hot!), reader wears lipgloss, excessive mentions of Edgar Allen Poe (one of my favourite Gothic authors), not proof read

wc: 3.4k

part one: carriage six

“So, I’ve been reading Poe’s works,” you begin, your headphones around your neck and you pull out ‘The Complete Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe’, flipping to ‘Annabel Lee’. 

Spencer watches as you flick to the page, his heart soaring at the sight of the annotations that litter the page. There are different colours and highlighters across the words and from what he could tell pink talked about language and that was the colour that stood out to him most. You bring the book closer so that he can read your annotations too and his heart stutters in his chest at the close proximity. He can smell the strawberry and honey shampoo in your hair and the heat rises up to his cheeks. It’s intoxicating. 

“I really don’t think the narrator is a crazy psychopath,” you say, glancing at him. “It just sounds like he’s really, seriously in love with her which just makes a bunch of people jealous.”

He watches the way you point to a certain line, ‘But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee.’ 

“Does that not sound like something you would say when you’re in love?” You ask, swooning a little. “It’s romantic, don’t you think? And their love is so brilliant and pure that the angels stole her away from him. I mean, it’s sad, but it’s kind of a picture of how amazing their love is.”

He nods along, his cheeks flushed because that’s what he thinks when he thinks of you. But he’ll never tell you that. How could he even dream of you feeling the same? The idea in itself is just so bizarre that he doesn’t even dare to entertain the thought. Not even when it’s late at night and he’s by himself, thinking through every single interaction you’ve had with him since he finally talked to you two months ago. 

“And I mean, think about it,” you continue, gesticulating with every word, eyes wide with excitement. “The last stanza. He’s still in love with her even after she’s passed away. How romantic is that?”

“Very romantic,” Spencer agrees, and he wonders if that’s how he looks when he rambles. “Alright, it’s definitely a love poem.”

He relishes in the way your eyes light up at his acceptance, the way you grin up at him and he wants to make you smile this way every day. His eyes wander to your lips and he swallows thickly. You’re wearing that lipgloss again, a cool berry tone that makes your lips shine and–

“Spencer? Are you okay?” 

He all but jolts out of his trance and he coughs awkwardly, his cheeks flushed. “Yes!” He squeaks, before clearing his throat and repeating the word. “Yes. Yes, I’m okay.”

He watches as an amused smile quirks at your lips as you ask, “are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he manages to croak, his ears red. 

He can’t even look at you. His eyes turn back to the book you’re holding, reading through the annotations you’ve made on the page for the nth time over. This is an example of one of the instances he doesn’t want to remember and prays that his stop would miraculously be next. 

“I’ve been reading The Tell-Tale Heart,” you say, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Spencer forces himself to maintain eye contact with you and he manages a small, “really?”

You laugh and nod. “Yep! It’s really good. Kinda creepy.”

“It is a little creepy,” he admits, his gaze flicking to your lips again. He’s kicking himself internally, asking, ‘who’s the creepy one now, weirdo?!’

He figures that you’re either incredibly gracious or incredibly used to it because you don’t mention the way his attention wavers. 

“You don’t seem okay.”

Or so he thought.

“What— um— what makes you say that?” He asks, clearing his throat.

You shoot him a smile. “You’re not going on about the text like you usually do.”

He opens his mouth and then shuts it again, his brain short circuiting. He can imagine Derek snickering and Emily commenting her usual, ‘IQ of 187, slashed to 60’. 

“Spencer?” You look amused, a smile on his face and a mischievous glimmer in your eye. “Are you—“

“I’m fine!” Spencer says quickly, ears burning. “I’m just— thinking? Yes, thinking.”

You laugh. “Dangerous pastime.”

“What?”

“I— never mind,” you shake your head, continuing to laugh. “But I do want to hear your thoughts on ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’ at some point.”

“Totally!” He jolts, and he’s kicking himself internally for being so eager. “Yes. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

The train lurches to a stop and Spencer gets up from his seat. 

“Bye, Spencer,” you say, smiling brilliantly at him, and it takes every ounce of self control in him to not just grab your face and kiss you.

“Bye,” he says, saying your name, before getting off the train.

*** 

Spencer has been acting weird. That is the conclusion Derek has come to as he watches the youngest member of their team enter the bullpen with the widest grin on the planet for the fourth time that week. He watches as Spencer sits down at his desk, looking like a literal teenager, and gets down to work. He has his earphones plugged in, the kind you would get at a dollar store, or the complementary ones you get from airports that never fit your ears right and leave you with headaches because of the horrible audio quality. Derek supposes he’s just listening to Beethoven or Bach or another dead classical musician. But as he passes Spencer’s desk, he hears something that makes him stop in his tracks. Spencer is humming. No, not just humming. He’s muttering lyrics under his breath. Since when did classical music have lyrics?

“What the hell…?” Derek asks under his breath to no one in particular. 

“You talking about Reid?” Emily asks, an amused grin on her face. “He’s acting weird.”

“Thank God, I thought I was the only one.” JJ seemingly appears out of nowhere, standing beside them with her arms crossed and a sly smile tugging at her lips. 

Rossi enters the bullpen, nodding towards Spencer who was sitting at his desk, blissfully unaware. “We talking about the kid?”

“He’s been acting weird all week,” Derek insists, his brows furrowing. “What do you think it is?”

“Maybe he won a chess tournament,” JJ says with a soft laugh. 

Emily rolls her eyes at the idea. “Please, Reid’s probably the winner of every single chess tournament in the state.”

“Maybe his mother is doing better?” Rossi suggests.

“Doesn’t explain why he’s listening to, I don’t know, not Mozart,” Derek points out.

There’s a silence that pulls over the group as they stare at the back of Reid’s head. It isn’t long before he turns around to face his coworkers, raising an eyebrow.

“… Why are you staring at me?” Spencer asks, giving them all pointed looks. 

“You’re acting weird,” Morgan says, cutting straight to the chase. “Care to share with the class?”

Spencer offers them all confused looks. “I’m… not acting weird? If anything, you guys are the ones acting weird.”

“Ohh, no, don’t turn this around on us.” Emily grins, walking over to him. “What’s going on?”

“What— guys, what happened to ‘no profiling each other’?” Spencer spluttered, shooting accusatory looks towards his coworkers.

“We’re just worried, that’s all,” JJ says with maternal sympathy, but Spencer can tell that she’s hiding a smile. 

He groans, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “I’m fine guys. I’m not acting ‘weird’ or anything.”

“Who are you listening to, Reid?” Rossi asks quickly, nodding towards the ear phones. 

“What?” Spencer’s head snaps up, redness crawling up to his ears. 

Emily smirks. “Yeah Reid. Who are you listening to?”

“No one,” he answers, avoiding their gaze. “I’m uh— I’m going back to work.”

He quickly turns his chair around, busting himself with his files. His co-workers all exchange glances, mischievous grins on their faces. 

“You know, I could just ask Garcia to dig into your phone,” Derek says with a shrug. “Or you could tell us yourself.”

Spencer shoots him a light hearted glare. “You wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You wouldn’t.”

***

Spencer thinks he’s going to die of mortification. He spent that entire week downloading all of the released songs by Taylor Swift, dutifully listening to each song and reporting back to you on his opinions. He has since come to a conclusion: Taylor Swift is a lyrical genius. Granted, he doesn’t have much experience with other branches of music that involves lyrics, but he figures it’s pretty similar to poetry. Regardless, he’s one hundred percent sure that he’s in for a world of teasing and tasteful jabs towards his sudden shift in music taste.

He’s also been doing this thing called texting, and he even went as far as getting a new phone and email address just so that he could properly contact you. He’s been in contact with you for the past eight weeks, going as far as messaging and calling you during break times and hiding in the bathroom to have an ounce of privacy. He feels like a changed person, all because of a tiny handheld device that fits in his back pocket. And you. Mostly you. The worst thing about this entire situation is the fact that Morgan did in fact manage to convince Garcia to snoop into his phone. 

“Alright, Reid, quit hiding. Who’s the girl?” Derek demands, slapping a piece of paper onto Spencer’s desk. It’s a log of calls and downloads. In other words, it’s a log of all the times he’s called the same number and all the Taylor Swift songs he’s downloaded. 

“Girl? What— what girl?” Spencer asks, playing dumb and willing himself to look Derek in the eye. His mind is spinning. ‘Blink evenly. Maintain eye contact. Don’t stutter. Answer his questions evenly. Play dumb. There is no girl, there is no girl there is no—‘

“Reid? Reid? Spencer!” Derek snaps his fingers in front of his face, jolting him out of his trance.

“Huh?” Spencer jolts, snapping out of his trance. “What?”

Derek snorts at his reaction. “Look, kid. This person calls your cell every day at 12:30, which just so happens to be in two minutes. So, either you tell me and I let you have your fun, or she calls you and she’ll be hearing my voice instead of yours.”

Spencer scoffs, holding his phone firmly in the palm of his hand. “There is no girl, Morgan.”

“Right.” 

“I’m serious!” Spencer says, his voice going up and octave and he cringes internally. Smooth. “There is no girl.”

“Totally believe you.”

He groans, wiping a hand over his face to calm himself down. Before he could respond, the phone in his hand begins to ring. A smirk tugs at Derek’s lips and he immediately lunges for the phone, eliciting a yelp from Spencer who leaps from his seat. 

“Morgan— Morgan no—“

“C’mon kid, it’ll be a lot easier if you just give in!”

“No! Nope, nope, Morgan I swear to-“

In seconds, Derek snatches Spencer’s phone out of his hand, a triumphant look on his face. He keeps Spencer at arm’s length as he picks up the phone.

“Hey Spence!” A voice rings through the phone.

“Sorry, sweetheart, not Spencer,” Derek responds, his voice smug.

“… that’s concerning,” The voice responds slowly, cautiously. “Who is this?”

Spencer grabs the phone out of Derek’s hand, running out of the bullpen as quickly as his long legs could carry him, flipping his coworker the finger before he leaves. 

“Hello?” He asks into the phone. “I’m so sorry, that was Derek, my co-worker.”

“Oh, the bald one!” You say quickly, recalling his name from the photos Spencer had shown you beforehand. “I thought it was like… a bad guy or something.”

He laughs softly into the phone, his cheeks warm and wearing a smile that could split his face in two. “Don’t worry, he’s not a bad guy. A pain in the ass, maybe, but not a bad guy.”

He hears you chuckle from the other side of the line. “Yeah, he seems like a nice person. Your entire team sounds really cool.”

“Maybe you could meet them at some point,” Spencer says quietly, his heart thundering in his chest. “I mean, they kind of already know you exist.”

“That would be fun,” You muse, and he hears the soft ruffling of cling wrap in the background.

“Lunch?” 

He hears you hum in response, and he can’t help but chuckle. There’s a silence for a few seconds, and he assumes you were eating, before your voice picks up again.

“I’d love to meet your team at some point, Spence. They seem like really amazing people.” 

He can’t help but smile, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. They are. You’d love them, and I’m sure they’d love you just as much.”

Before long, lunch break is over and Spencer begrudgingly hangs up and returns to the bullpen, his team all wearing frustratingly smug faces. He rolls his eyes, not paying them any kind as he returns to his desk. He ignores the very blatant whistle Derek does in his direction and the snort Emily fails to hide.

“So…” JJ begins, dragging her words out. “You’ve got a girlfriend?”

Spencer chokes on air and bites his tongue, grimacing at the taste of blood. “I do not have a girlfriend.” It’s not a lie.

“But you want her to be,” Emily says, smirking. 

“No! Yes. I don’t know, maybe?” Spencer feels like a teenage boy being lectured by his parents. Not that he knows what that feels like.

“Alright, well, have you asked her on a date?” Derek asks as he raises an eyebrow.

Spencer coughs, reaching for his mug of stale coffee. That’s all he needs to do to answer Derek’s question, because in moments Derek is screaming in his ear. 

“Why haven’t you asked her out yet?!”

“We talk loads of times,” Spencer insists, hiding behind his disgustingly old coffee. “We just never… we’re just friends.”

Rossi bites back a chuckle. “Yes, because friends call each other every day during their lunch breaks.”

Spencer feels his face grow impossibly hotter and he chugs the last of his coffee. He cringes before turning his attention back to his files in an attempt to calm himself down. It doesn’t work.

“How did you meet her?” JJ asks, gentler this time. 

Spencer flushes and plays with his watch. “On the train.”

“That’s very you,” she laughs, ruffling his hair. “She seems really nice, Spencer.”

He preens at the compliment, his mind drifting to your pretty hair and glossy lips. He sports a grin and he nods. “She’s really, really nice.”

*** 

Spencer sits next to you on the train as usual. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is combed to be a little neater, only for his efforts to be destroyed when a strong gust of wind hits his face the moment he left his apartment. He reminds himself to put a comb into his bag after work. You’re talking about another one of Poe’s works, this time ‘The Raven’, another love poem. Your eyes are bright with excitement as you go on and on about the writing style and whatever else. 

Spencer is far from religious but your existence alone is enough to have him thanking the heaven’s that he is alive. He can’t help but smile every time you do, his gaze perpetually on your lips. He feels a little guilty about it, about how he can’t even control himself when he’s around you but you’re just so beautiful that he can’t help himself. He feels even guiltier when he realises he hasn’t processed a word you’ve said. 

“... and that’s why I think Edgar Allen Poe is really just a huge softie who wants to be loved,” you finish, snapping the book closed. “What do you think, Doctor Genius?”

“Totally,” Spencer agrees quickly, almost biting his tongue. “Absolutely.”

You laugh and Spencer thinks he’s going to faint. 

“Where are you up to in your Taylor Swift project?” You ask teasingly, nudging his arm. If it were anyone else, Spencer would have grimaced and shrugged them off but you aren’t just ‘anyone’. You’re the most amazing person in the world. 

“I’m up to 1989 track 9, Wildest Dreams,” Spencer recites, pulling out his notebook from his inner jacket pocket. It’s a small leatherbound notebook that he’s been writing all his thoughts in regards to the Taylor Swift songs, all in chronological order. He’s actually quite proud of it as he flicks to the latest page. “I really like this one. I did some research and I found out that the bass sound in the background is actually her heartbeat. That’s pretty interesting.”

You almost scream in excitement, leaning closer to him to read his notes. “I love this song! It’s my favourite Taylor Swift song ever and it’s just so pretty, you know?”

He nods in agreement, his cheeks flushed at the close proximity and he finds that he can no longer feel his tongue. He should get that checked out. 

“It reminds me of you sometimes,” you say, completely unabashed. Spencer thinks you’re trying to kill him. 

“What?” He asks meekly, recalling every lyric from the song. 

You freeze, flustered and you pull away from him. Spencer frowns at the sudden space but he watches as you stammer and stumble over your words.

“I just meant– you know, it’s a good song! That’s all.” You laugh anxiously, fiddling with the book in your hand. “Never mind, just ignore me. Tell me more about what you like about the song.”

In an almost uncharacteristic bout of confidence, Spencer reaches out to take your hand in his. At first, he thought his head was going to explode. It felt heavy and light all at the same time and he was almost about to pull his hand away when you squeezed his fingers. Just like that, all doubts are gone. You’re smiling at him and Spencer knows that he would do absolutely anything to make sure to keep it there. 

When the train lurches to a stop at Quantico, Spencer doesn’t make any effort to move. He’s grinning ear-to-ear, intertwining your fingers with his. 

“Isn’t this your stop?” You ask gently, loosening your hold on his hand. 

He shrugs, holding onto your hand tighter. “I’m always early. I can be late for once.”

Besides, he thinks to himself, inching closer to you, this is so worth it.

Pride bubbles in his heart when he hears you laugh again and his smile grows impossibly wider. 

“We’re almost at my stop,” you say, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand. “We should go out. You know, instead of just meeting on the train.”

Spencer nods immediately at the suggestion. “I’d like that. Are you free on Saturday?”

“I’m definitely free on Saturday,” you respond, squeezing his hand again. 

Spencer sits there with you until you make it to your stop. The corners of his eyes are crinkled and he feels happy, so goddamn happy, and he wonders how he’s lived without you. Before you get off the train, he calls your name. He relishes in the way you turn around, the confusion palpable in your eyes. 

“Yeah?”

He takes a step closer to you, his face in front of yours. His heartbeat is in his ears but at the same time he feels an incredibly ironic sense of calm. In seconds, he presses his lips to yours in a short kiss. He grins at you as you stumble out of the train dazed, waving goodbye. From the window he could see you press your cold hands to your cheeks before reaching for your phone. 

The smile that grows on his face when he sees your face light up his phone is embarrassing. It’s goofy and silly and he is so grateful that the carriage is empty. 

“Hello?” 

“You cannot–” your voice comes through the speaker and he grins again– “you cannot just kiss me randomly and then leave.”

“Technically the train left, not me,” Spencer says with a small laugh.

You’re quiet on the other end before replying, “We need a re-do on Saturday.”

Spencer has no complaints. 

reblogs are always appreciated!

taglist: @sunshineyottie @cerulean-turtle @tortelliniturtle7 @bucxkysdoll @awitadecoca

strikethrough means couldn't be tagged

[elvensorceress]

idk I get incredibly angry at homophobes being cast on my gay shows. anybody want the start of my fic where Eddie dumps her bigoted ass and then has a gay ole sexy time with his husband and his husband's new boyfriend? because here. you can have. it's cathartic 💕

test drive - 2K, BuckTommy, BuckEddieTommy, Buddie endgame forever / Explicit

The restaurant is dimly lit in a way that might be classy and romantic, but Tommy’s hand is also on Buck’s thigh. And he’s having a lot of very not-classy, not even very romantic sorts of thoughts. Everything is far more along the lines of, he could put his hand on my dick, and I know what his cock feels like down my throat, and why are we here in a public place when we could be back at my loft taking turns fucking each other until we’re both a mess of cum and lube and sweat and sexy bruises and love bites? Because all of that is way more appealing than what they are sitting here, waiting to do. 

If it were just one of their dates, it’d be great. Those are fantastic. Tommy likes to pick him up and take him to nice places and he smiles in a really, really soft cute way that also has an air of, I am going to fuck you until you scream and you will love every second. And holy fucking god, does Buck love every second. 

Bisexuality, man. Who knew? 

It’s so fantastic. It’s so different? Or maybe it’s just that Tommy is different because he’s ridiculously cool and hot and Buck always really liked when someone knew what they wanted and would take the lead and he could do everything in his power to please them and make them feel good. Confidence is infinitely sexy and competence even more so. And Tommy has all of that in spades. 

And Buck loves men. Buck really loves men. It makes so much sense and how had he never even considered? Maybe he considered but he sure as hell never realized wanting a man and being attracted to a man was something that fit so well. Fuck, it fits so well. 

Maybe he could even end up with a man someday? Maybe he could marry a man and have a relationship that is like this all the time for the rest of his life? Not that he doesn’t like women still. Women are great. People who don’t identify as either or they identify as both or however they choose— they’re great, too. 

Everyone is hot and Evan Buckley is very bisexual, and it just might be one of the greatest revelations he’s ever had. 

He’s just really, really enjoying being with a man right now. 

He is not, however, enjoying the thought of this dinner. Everything about this dinner makes his stomach a washing machine of anxiety. For no reason. He doesn’t know why. There’s nothing wrong with it. 

Why wouldn’t he and his boyfriend go on a double date with his best friend who is their mutual friend, and his best friend’s girlfriend. What is wrong with that? It’s fine. Should be— fun? 

Shouldn’t be a bad taste in his mouth that the wine still hasn’t gotten rid of and roiling in his stomach that is really killing his appetite. But it very much is. 

Tommy squeezes Buck’s thigh and rubs it in a way that surely is supposed to be comforting. But it makes Buck want to drag him out of this restaurant and back to the loft where he can show Tommy how good he is at fucking him now. Not just because it would be a thousand times better than the prospect of this dinner. The bar is so low on the ground, it’s buried at this point. But also because sex with his new boyfriend is better than— actually, Buck is having a hard time thinking of anything that is better right now. 

Very hard time. 

They’ve been practicing. Everything. Blowjobs, fucking, fingering, ball massages, prostate milking, rimming— all sorts of really fun things Buck never even imagined could feel so good. Not that he was oblivious to a lot of it. He has toys. His ex was into pegging. Buck might have been unaware of how intense and gay— well, bi. He’s bi now. Buck is bi now. Probably always was but he knows it now. He’s bisexual.— his attraction to men could be. But he was not unaware of sexual acts that feel good to his body. 

But it’s totally different with a real man and a real cock and being manhandled by someone who might actually be bigger and stronger than you is really fucking hot. 

He checks his watch again and it’s already 7:28. They’re almost half an hour late. Which is so not like Eddie. He’s not sure if Marisol is like that but he knows for sure Eddie is either fifteen minutes early for everything or he texts if there is a problem. Even then, he’s only ever a few minutes late. If that. And last Buck checked, there were no new messages on his phone. 

He checks again, and still nothing. Not even to Buck’s message of, hey u ok? u on the way? He frowns and sets his phone back on the table and turns to Tommy. “How long before I’m allowed to be really worried?”

Tommy gives him an amused smile. “You can be worried.”

“How long before we need to bother Athena? Ten more minutes? Five? Sh-should I bother Athena now?”

Tommy’s eyebrows scrunch and he looks at Buck like he’s crazy. Okay, it’s probably crazy. Just. He’s worried? That must be the churning in his stomach. “I’m sure Eddie’s fine. It hasn’t been that long. And he’s Eddie.”

Yeah. Yeah, he’s Eddie. But Eddie was also shot downtown in the middle of broad daylight and nearly bled out all over, and there’s not much anyone can do even if they are trained in hand to hand combat and self-defense and those kinds of things. Not many ways to defend against a sniper round that shouldn’t even be a thing. 

Not that Buck is thinking about that. Ever. 

He’s just turning into a washing machine over this dinner. That’s all. 

Five minutes later, some of it finally eases when Eddie finally shows up and sits down across from them. Alone. 

Alone?

“Sorry, guys,” Eddie runs a hand through his hair and breathes like he’s run a hundred miles. He’s hardly been looking distressed at all lately. He’s been glowing smiles and pretty laughs. Not pretty. Nice? Good? Good that he’s so much happier and at peace. 

But he’s not that now. 

“I would’ve—” Eddie checks his own watch, one that was a Christmas present that Buck had engraved with, all the time you need, and must realize how late he actually is. “Fuck. Sorry. Really sorry. I’ll buy? Unless you’ve already eaten and paid and are about to leave.” 

Tommy shakes his head and has that nice smile that’s so reassuring. “We haven’t. Don’t worry about it.”

“We were waiting,” Buck adds and itches to ask him what’s wrong, why he’s late, why he looks— like he isn’t okay. 

“Great.” Eddie nods tersely and it sounds anything but great. “They got anything stronger than wine and cocktails here? Because—” He doesn’t say. But he does make a face the conveys everything. 

“Doubt it,” Tommy says. “But we can get something somewhere else. Is Mar— Mari?”

“Marisol,” Buck supplies. Not that it matters. Not that he cares. Is he supposed to care? There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s fine. 

“Right,” Tommy says, which should say everything. Eddie’s been hanging out with Tommy for months, Buck’s been with Tommy for months, and Tommy is pretty damn good at remembering people’s names. “Marisol. Is she still on the way?”

Eddie’s jaw gets very tight. “No. We’re done.” 

Tommy looks at Buck and Buck looks at Tommy. They’re done? They broke up? Not that it’s particularly surprising. Part of the curse of dating someone you met on a call. Gotta be. Also the whole thing where Eddie has some kind of commitment issues or something because as soon as he gets a girlfriend, he has to spend all his time doing anything besides being with said girlfriend.

“So, drinking?” Tommy says. 

Buck pushes his wine glass across the table. They usually share when they eat together. Drinks, food, anything. And he’s happy to offer it to the cause. 

“Yes, drinking.” Eddie takes Buck’s wine and downs all of it. 

Eddie’s single again. Marisol isn’t coming to dinner and she’s not part of their lives any longer. Not that Buck has a problem with her. She’s fine. She was nothing really. That wasn’t going to last. Eddie likes the idea of being with someone. So he says. He’s allergic to actually having a relationship for some reason. 

The washing machine in Buck’s stomach disappears though. Which is so much better. Now, it’s just Buck hanging out with his best friend and his boyfriend. 

Maybe there’s a little washing machine. It’s nothing though. 

They order food and drinks, and Eddie only goes through a couple shots and three glasses of wine and one beer. But he eats and also drinks water and doesn’t seem inebriated at all. So, they focus on the meal and Tommy’s latest work stories of helicopter rescues. 

It’s not until after Buck discreetly hands their waiter his credit card before they’re actually brought the bill, that Eddie actually starts talking.

“I kind of fucked up. Didn’t mean to. I owe you an apology,” he says and looks at Buck with worlds of regret and sorrow. 

Whatever it is, Buck forgives him. He’s sure he’s done far worse than whatever it is. “Why? What, uh, what happened?”

Eddie doesn’t look at him. Or Tommy. He does shake his head but not like he’s saying no. More like he’s disgusted. “I let it slip that you two are— that you’re. Dating. Together. Boyfriends? Do you call each other that? Are you boyf— never mind, I let it slip. I’m sorry. That was my bad. Not my secret to tell.”

Tommy looks scrunched and confused again and Buck— he doesn’t understand what the problem is? No, he hasn’t told many people yet. But it’s not a secret that he and Tommy are together. 

“Eds,” Buck says and immediately thinks he probably shouldn’t have called him that. He doesn’t know why. But he shouldn’t. “It’s fine. I’m not— It’s not a secret. I’m not hiding. Or— or in the closet? I’m out. Now. I’m bi and—” And he’s really happy about that. He really loves it. He’s bisexual. He loves women and men and whoever regardless of gender. And holy shit, does he love men right now. He really, really loves being with a man. He looks to his side and grins brightly at Tommy. “And I’m not ashamed or embarrassed that Tommy and I are together.”

There’s a cute half smile that curves the side of Tommy’s mouth and Buck so wants to kiss him. And do all sorts of other things with him. 

“Well. Good.” Eddie taps his finger on an empty shot glass like he’s contemplating ordering another. “Still. Didn’t go well. Didn’t mean to out you like that.”

“Didn’t go well?” Tommy asks. “Saying that Evan and I are dating didn’t go well?”

Eddie purses his lips and does a slow, exaggerated shake of his head. “Nope. But at least I learned that now. Has the waiter brought our check yet? Because I’m just going to drink more if I don’t head out soon. Not that I’m sad about her or anything. I’m pissed. You think you know someone, and no. No, she’s a raging homophobe.”

She— oh. Oh, that’s what happened. “She broke up with you because we’re gay? Bi and gay? Or— you know what I mean.” Is Tommy gay? Or bi? Or something else? Buck hasn’t actually asked what label he uses. How he qualifies his sexuality. He felt weird asking. It’s so personal. Is he supposed to ask? All he knows is that Tommy was into him. Tommy kissed him and it was breathtaking, incredible, magnificent and changed Buck’s whole life. He didn’t really think anything beyond that. Couldn’t really think beyond that. 

Eddie definitively points at himself and then at phantom nothingness. “I dumped her. Because I said this was a double date with you guys and she said, well not really, and I said, no really. It’s a double date. Her and me and both of you. Double date. Except not her. Ever. Anymore. Because she had to go off about how it was wrong and made her uncomfortable and I ‘let both of you be alone with Christopher?’ And it couldn’t possibly be a date like me and her would go on a date because she’s a woman and I’m a man and that was normal. But you two are both men. Both muscular, powerful, masculine, manly firemen type men— so it could never be the same especially because neither one of you are flamey or girly or whatever, so it could never work, the two of you since neither one of you is ‘The Girl.’ Which is all bullshit. By the way. Obviously. And,” he finally stops and breathes, and there’s a hard swallow in his throat and his eyes are distant and his whole body is strung tight and if he could breathe fire? He probably would. Holy shit, he’s pissed off. Buck isn’t even sure he’s ever seen Eddie this angry at anyone who hasn’t hurt someone he loves. 

Although. Technically she did? Not hurt per se, Buck doesn’t give a shit about what she thinks of him. But she was insulting them. So. Yeah, okay, of course fiercely protective Eddie would be angry. 

“And anyway,” Eddie says, still never quite looking at Buck or even at Tommy. Never quite focusing on them. “That’s how I’m single and back on the market again.” He smiles a wide, bitter, snarky kind of smile, and steals the half-full beer glass in front of Buck and downs it in one gulp. 

(Read on AO3)

[izelascendant]

Sportsmanlike

Chapter 2 - Finalist Fusion

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Rating | Mature Summary | What happens after the party on Long Island. Pairing | f!Original Character x Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig Tags | Tennis, Competition, Love Triangles (Squares?), Jealousy, Plot, Emotional Infidelity, Eventual smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Relationships Word Count | 4.7K Author's note | This chapter contains smut. Things get juicy, alright.

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Sportsmanlike on AO3 | Chapter 1 - US Open 2006, Chapter 2 - Finalist Fusion, Chapter 3 - Aftermath and Accolades, Chapter 4 - Stanford, Chapter 5 - Stanford, Part 2 |

Part 2 of this series Unsportsmanlike

She senses their approach and gives Tashi a subtle nudge, discreetly alerting her to their presence. Tashi turns around, her gaze meeting the boys' with a playful curiosity sparkling in her eyes. The confidence is palpable as she stands tall, exuding a sense of self-assurance. Meanwhile, she stands shyly beside Tashi, her body language more reserved, but her allure still present.

Patrick takes the lead, his confidence evident as he introduces himself. “Hi, I’m Patrick Zweig,” He struts over, his stance slightly crooked yet self-assured.

Art chimes in with a nervous chuckle, “—Art Donaldson.”

Patrick continues, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. "We saw both your matches," he remarks, eager to initiate a conversation.

Tashi interrupts with a cool and charming tone, her words tinged with a hint of intimidation. "We know who you are." Her words spark an air of mystique, leaving the boys slightly stunned yet intrigued.

"Fire and Ice, right?" She takes her turn to ask after Tashi, sipping her drink through a straw with a faint smile dancing across her lips.

Art can't help but mumble to himself quietly, "Oh my god," he whispers, his eyes fixated on her. Patrick echoes his sentiments, a knowing smile on his face as he nods in agreement. “In the flesh.”

Tashi redirects her attention toward Art, a curious gleam in her eyes. "You're going to Stanford, right?" she asks, pointing his way with her finger.

Art looks slightly taken aback, his surprise evident as he confirms, "I am. How did you know?"

As Art and Tashi continue to talk, she continues to sip her drink, shifting her weight as she feels Patrick's discreet gaze fall upon her. His lips curl upward in a subtle gesture as he steals a quick glance at her.

Art asks a question, directing her attention back to him. "What about you? You enrolled anywhere?" he inquires.

She straightens up a little, a small chuckle escaping her lips at her own uncertainty. "Oh," she shrugs, "My team tells me I could get a scholarship pretty much anywhere based on how I'm playing, but—I still don’t know.”

Patrick turns towards her, his voice lighthearted and playful. "Skip all that," he smirks, gesturing towards Art and Tashi. "You should go pro like me. Or at least give it a try."

Tashi chimes in, wrapping her arm around hers, her tone persuasive. "No, I think you should come to Stanford too," she suggests with a playfully stern expression, her suggestion backed up by her own firm belief. Art and Patrick exchange a knowing glance, recognizing the power dynamics at play in their impromptu discussion.

Art interjects with a bit of humor, raising his hands in surrender. "Two against one," he jokes, gesturing toward Patrick. 

Patrick can't help but let out a hearty laugh and shake his head in response as the conversation takes a light-hearted and playful turn.

The group is immersed in a moment of silence, the air filled with a potent mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. She ponders over Tashi's intentions—aware of their mutual attraction towards the boys—but unsure about how the night will unfold. As her thoughts swirl, she willingly places her trust in Tashi's hands, prepared to embrace whatever the night might bring.

The moment of silence is broken by Patrick's words, directed towards Tashi. "Your backhand is incredible." He compliments her, and his admiration is evident. Almost simultaneously, Art speaks up, addressing her opponent, "I wanted to ask you about that last point you scored." 

It's comical how Patrick and Art's observations towards each girl overlap, their words perfectly synchronized. The girls exchange a lighthearted chuckle, amused by the boys' almost synchronized timing.

Art turns away with a sheepish chuckle, his cheeks tinged with a hint of pink. Patrick, on the other hand, continues to laugh heartily as he keeps his gaze on the girls, seemingly relishing the moment.

Tashi's father interrupts them, requesting her attention with a commanding tone. "Baby, I need to steal you for a second. Over at the trophies," he instructs. 

She acknowledges the request with a simple "Oh, okay," and then she brushes her dress off before giving a final glance in their direction. "I have to go take pictures; I'll be right back," she says before walking over to her father, her grace and beauty radiant as she follows him.

All three of them—the redhead, the blonde, and the brunette—are momentarily captivated as they watch Tashi walk away, their eyes following her every move. But then, as their gazes shift back from Tashi to her, she feels a sudden wave of fluster and bashfulness wash over her, unused to the attention being directed her way.

Patrick's voice retains its playful tone as he asks, "So, how long have you two known each other for exactly?"

She giggles before answering, her voice soft, "Since yesterday."

Art looks surprised, remarking with raised eyebrows, "Really? You both seem pretty close." He observes the easy chemistry between them, intrigued by their fast connection.

She shrugs with a hint of satisfaction. "I guess I'm lucky to have been chosen by Tashi Duncan," she says, a proud smile playing on her lips. Her tone then shifts to a more pensive note as she continues, her gaze fixed on Tashi in the distance. "I honestly have no idea why she likes me."

Patrick's voice interjects with a bit of teasing, his tone playful. "Because you might beat her in the finals."

Art counters immediately, his tone more sincere, "Because you seem like a really sweet girl."

Confused and amused by the opposing answers, her gaze switches between the two, a smile starting to dance on her lips. She shrugs slightly, replying with a hint of humor, "Maybe a bit of both."

The conversation continues, flowing naturally as she engages with both boys, sharing their thoughts on tennis, personal backgrounds, and future plans. Art's gentle and humble outlook balances nicely with Patrick's more confident and comical style.

She clears her throat, preparing to leave as she points aimlessly towards the crowd. “I’m gonna go see if I can try and find Tashi.” 

Art stops her by gently grabbing her arm. She turns to look at him, her expression slightly surprised. Art quietly speaks, with a hint of eagerness in his voice. "Meet us back here?" His question hangs in the air, his earnestness charming.

She offers a simple smile, nodding in agreement. "Yeah," she confirms. Her gaze lingers on Art for a moment before shifting to Patrick. With a final glance, she turns and walks away, leaving the boys to watch her go.

She finally returns with Tashi after leaving the boys waiting for what feels like an eternity. The boys had begun to wonder if they had been abandoned, thinking the girls might not come back after all. But there they were, returning as promised, much to their relief and anticipation.

Tashi's voice rings out, a hint of teasing in her tone as she says, "You guys are still here," as they approach.

Patrick tries to play it cool, replying with a casual shrug as he says, "Yeah, it's nothing," only to find Tashi even more amused by his effort to appear unbothered.

As the evening progresses and guests begin to leave, the wind gently picks up, creating a subtle breeze. The two boys and girls stand facing each other, their gazes occasionally meeting and holding for that extra fraction of a millisecond. The air is filled with anticipation, the silence between them speaking volumes.

The silence is broken by Patrick, who pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He offers them to her and Tashi, asking, "Smoke?"

Tashi declines with a hint of superiority in her tone, saying, "Nah."

Patrick grins smugly, taking a cigarette and placing it between his lips before passing the pack to Art. Art then asks, "They also put you girls at the hotel in Flushing?"

She answers with a casual shrug, "I’m on the first floor." 

She then looks over at Tashi, who narrows her eyes a tad at Art's mention of the hotel. Tashi teasingly asks with a suggestive tone, "Why, want us to come tuck you guys in?"

Art and Patrick share a lighthearted laugh. Patrick lights his cigarette and takes a puff before replying with a playful shrug, suggesting, "We can just keep talking." He adds, with a hint of mischief, "We've got beer."

She can't help but bite the inside of her cheek, holding back a smirk as she glances at Tashi and then back to the boys. A soft sigh escapes her as she slips off her heels, her bare feet now touching the cool grass beneath.

She chuckles softly, her voice carrying a hint of weariness. "Whatever the plan is, let’s keep the walking to a minimum," she suggests, her feet already feeling the relief of being freed from her heels.

Tashi doesn't relent; her voice is tinged with a slight defiance. "My dad's probably gonna come looking for me," she protests, though a hint of excitement flickers in her eyes.

Patrick casually offers a suggestion, taking another drag from his cigarette. "Just ride the shuttle back to the hotel with us. Meet up with your dad, and then come hang out. Room 206.”

Art nods in agreement, the boys silently waiting for Tashi's response. Tashi directs a playful look at her before glancing back at the boys. 

Tashi's nonchalant tone betrays her hidden excitement as she says with a shrug, "Alright."

She exchanges a smile with Tashi, before they follow behind the boys. Art quietly offers to carry her heels for her, a thoughtful gesture that she gratefully accepts. She walks beside him, thanking him softly.

The ride back is invigorating, the gentle breeze caressing their hair as they share laughter, the air filled with a sense of warmth and liveliness. There's a touch of bittersweetness, the feeling of those final blissful nights of summer lingering in the air.

She feels a spark of boldness, taking the cigarette from Patrick’s hand and inhaling deeply. Tashi and Art watch as she takes the hit, a serene and beautiful figure with her head tilted slightly to the side as the shuttle glides along the pavement towards the hotel.

Tashi laughs heartily as Art gently holds her in place during each sharp turn, her amusement echoing through the air. The ride may be brief, but it's fun and memorable—a moment sure to be ingrained in their minds for days to come. 

Tashi and her girl

For a brief moment, they part ways as the boys head upstairs to their room. With linked hands, Tashi leads her down the corridor on the first floor. Barefoot and heels in hand, they tread silently across the plush carpeting of the hotel floor.

Tashi halts in front of her hotel room door, pivoting to face her directly. With a gentle touch, Tashi holds her face as she speaks. "You know, you're sweet, but—” Her tone is affectionate but firm. "You can't let them get what they want so easily. You need to keep them on their toes. Make them work for it. It has to be challenging."

She blinks, taken aback by Tashi’s unexpected words. However, a chuckle escapes her as she replies with a hint of amusement. 

"Challenging? This isn't tennis, Tashi," she echoes with a mixture of humor and slight perplexity.

Tashi's tone grows more serious as she amends her previous statement, her words carrying a firm conviction. "No,” she clarifies, “It’s exactly like tennis.”

She stands there, puzzled and a little uncertain about what to say next, her mind swirling with confusion at the unexpected turn the conversation has taken.

Tashi releases her, gesturing towards the elevator. "Go," she commands, her tone shifting back to a softer, more affectionate tone. "I'll join you soon."

She knows better than to question Tashi, so she simply replies, "Don’t take too long," sounding almost like a plea. She turns and makes her way towards the elevator, her mind filled with curiosity and anticipation.

Art and Patrick

Patrick wastes no time undressing—feeling like they had been waiting forever yet again. He slouches back in the old chair in the corner of the hotel room, a cigarette between his lips. He shuffles through a deck of cards with a distracted air, clad only in a pair of dark boxer shorts.

Art is sprawled out on his bed in only his boxers, one leg resting against the wall in a comfortable yet odd pose. A heavy sigh escapes him as he lies there, his mind no doubt pondering the events of the night thus far.

The room is uncomfortably hot—thanks to the malfunctioning air conditioning—the light casts an intimate and cozy glow that mingled with the smoke that clung to the air as Patrick continues to idly puff on his cigarette.

Then, there’s a knock.

The unexpected knock jolts them, prompting them to swiftly spring into action. Patrick, frantically searching for whatever clothing he can find, “Shit,” he mumbles, accidentally grabbing one of Art's shirts and hastily throwing it on without bothering to button it. Art, equally hurried, snatches a shirt from somewhere and pulls it over his head as he dashes towards the door, ready to open it.

They swing open the door to find her standing there, a small smile gracing her lips, her heels still clutched in her hand.  Her copper hair is now loose, revealing the soft cascades of her curls that frame her face and fall effortlessly by her sides.

Art greets her with a cheerful "Hi" and Patrick chimes in with a casual "Hey" as they stand there, a bit breathless from their frantic last-minute cleaning frenzy.

She lets out a low laugh, amused by their flustered state. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she explains apologetically, her smile lingering on her lips. "Tashi will be here in a second."

Art offers a simple response, "Yeah, yeah, cool," followed by a nod from Patrick, their momentary pause abruptly broken by her chuckle. 

She looks at them with a grin as she teases, "So, are you going to let me in, or—?"

They seem to regain their senses, stepping aside with a sheepish grin. "Sorry—" Art begins, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "We, uh, yeah, come in." Patrick motions for her to come in, both boys seemingly a bit flustered by her sudden presence.

Finalist Fusion

And right on cue, another knock reverberates through the room, signaling Tashi's arrival. Tashi strolls in, having swapped out her previous attire for something more comfortable and laid-back.

Beers cracked, the three of them had already begun to indulge before Tashi walked in, leaving them slightly ahead in the inebriation department.

The four of them lounge comfortably on the floor of room 206, their bodies relaxed yet buzzing with exhilaration. Tashi rests her head on her new friend's lap, her body language carefree and at ease. Art leans back against one of the beds, his gaze lazily drifting around the room while Patrick sits somewhere in the middle, their legs slightly tangled up in their relaxed state. The floor is covered in an array of beer cans, the bottle of vodka glinting among them as the ashtray holds the remnants of extinguished cigarettes.

The gathering kicks off with a series of card games, each round filled with fierce competition, lighthearted banter, and uproarious laughter. As the night progresses, the cards are set aside as their focus shifts to the drinks and conversations take a more intimate turn. Secret confessions and whispered truths slowly begin to fill the air, replacing the joviality of the card games.

"Alright. Patrick was an early bloomer, okay?” Art admits with a hint of embarrassment, a pink flush creeping up his cheeks as they delve deeper into the conversation.

Tashi chimes in with a playful smile, attempting to lighten the mood. "You know, that is a pretty cute story," she says, her tone supportive and amused.

Patrick grins at the redhead, his eyes sparkling mischievously as he prompts, "Yeah, it's only fair that you share a story now," with a teasing grin.

She raises her eyebrow in mock protest, her playful nature shining through. "Me?" she echoes, pointing to herself before breaking into a lighthearted chuckle.

Tashi leaned in closer, her interest piqued as she chimed in with a curious tone, "Now I'm curious too."

She responds with a light chuckle, feigning distress at the sudden attention on her. "This is a lot of pressure, all eyes are on me," she exclaims with an exaggerated tone, her smirk revealing her playful intentions.

Art chimes in playfully, “You heard the embarrassing story of how Patrick taught me how to jerk off,” he grins. “You owe us one in return”

"C’mon, you’re not fooling anyone," Patrick says with a playful smirk, exhaling a puff of smoke from his cigarette. "I refuse to believe you’re as innocent as you seem. You have to have a story or two to share," he presses on, confident that she’s harbored some intimate secrets.

She exchanges a knowing look with Tashi, a bemused smile on her lips before taking a deep breath. The alcohol has done its work, dissolving many of the inhibitions that might otherwise have held her back. "Alright, fine," she says with a playful grin, crossing her legs and taking a generous sip from one of the open beer cans.  

Tashi, Art, and Patrick all share a synchronized smirk, their curiosity piqued and their attention fully focused on her as she prepares to share her story.

"I got into quite a few scrapes when I was fourteen," she begins, her smile growing warmer as the memories flood back. "I was invited to a sleepover—a whole group of girls from my school."

Tashi chimes in with a nod and a raised eyebrow, commenting dryly, "Girls."

“Well, let’s just say me and this one girl wanted to—” She pauses, her cheeks tinted pink. “—Experiment.”

Patrick's chuckle breaks the brief silence, his intuition telling him where the story is headed. "I can see where this is going," he chimes in with a knowing grin.

"Well, once we had shut off the lights," she recalls, her tone filled with amusement, "there was a lot of kissing and not much breathing. Needless to say, we weren't as discreet as we thought, and we got quite the surprise when her mom walked in to find her daughter swapping spit with me."

Tashi is the first to comment, saying with a hint of playful bravado, "That's actually quite tame."

She shrugs and counters with a chuckle, leaning into Tashi as she challenges her, "Oh? Do you have a better story of your own you'd like to share?"

Tashi's peal giggles fill the air before she abruptly stands up, her infectious energy prompting her to announce, “No, but I sure do want to dance right now.” She swiftly extends her hands to help her up, her contagious spirits fueling her actions.

Art and Patrick follow her lead, rising to their feet to join in the moment. Their gaze remains focused on the girls, effortlessly following their lead as the music envelops the room and fills it with a playful energy.

♬ I'm everything you need

Put all you need in me

I don't need anything

I don't need anything ... ♬

Tashi’s at the center, shaking her head back and forth to the beat as the three of them dance around her, all of their moves slightly uncoordinated from the alcohol, but nobody seems to notice. They don’t need to notice, they're just having fun.

Tashi leans in towards Art, her body moving effortlessly to the rhythm of the beat as they sync their movements and share a laugh. Patrick closes the gap between him and the dancing redhead, captivated by the sweet scent that surrounds her. With a delicate touch, he takes her hand and twirls her around, drawing out another chuckle from her.

Without even realizing it, she finds herself trading places with Tashi, her body instinctively following the flow of the music, and ending up face-to-face with Art. They move in unison, their bodies swaying to the beat and their mouths forming the words to the song. 

Tashi returns to the center, her hips moving with a mesmerizing allure that radiates a silent form of seduction.

With a swift turn, she breaks away from Art and moves towards Tashi, who welcomes her with open arms, clasping their hands together in time with the melody. Tashi takes the opportunity to spin her around, drawing her into a snug embrace, and something sparks within her, fueling her confidence at the touch.

Her hands find their way to Tashi's waist, resting gently on her warm skin. She closes the gap between them, planting a kiss on Tashi's neck, feeling the smoothness of her tan skin. Tashi's eyes close with a soft smile at the sensation, turning to face her and meet her gaze with an intensity that fills the air—the tension palpable.

She feels an overwhelming surge of heat spread across her entire body as their eyes meet, the intensity of Tashi's stare stirring a deep-rooted excitement within her. Suddenly—yet undeniably—Tashi leans in to kiss her; it is an unexpected yet inevitable moment that unfolds seamlessly.

Their lips meet again and again in a passionate dance of connection. Their hands explore each other's bodies, tracing along their waists, necks, hips, and backs, losing all sense of their surroundings.

Art and Patrick halt their dance, staring in disbelief at the intimate scene unraveling in front of them. Art's mouth hangs open, while Patrick lets out a light chuckle—a mix of surprise and intrigue. They stand as silent witnesses to the passionate display, both equally captivated and intrigued by the unexpected turn of events.

In a haze of alcohol-infused adrenaline, she finds herself leading Tashi toward the edge of the bed. The music's tempo picks up, fueling the chaotic energy that fills the air. Maybe it's the nonsensical nature of the moment that adds to the thrill. 

Their actions become instinctual, driven by a mixture of desire and the carefree abandon that comes with drinking. Tashi's warm body becomes the canvas for her affection as her lips trace a path downward. Her voice is barely more than a hushed whisper, the desperate need to please her becomes her sole focus.

Tashi swiftly takes control, flipping their positions on their way to the mattress, her smirk directed at Art and Patrick, who remain captivated by the scene unfolding before them. Slowly and deliberately, she glides her hands under her dress, a teasing touch that only heightens the anticipation building between them.

Her eyes lock onto Tashi's as her face flushes with an intense heat, the pace of the moment not pausing to accommodate doubts or questions. She watches in a state of enthrallment as Tashi pulls off her panties with a quick flick, discarding them onto the ground with a careless gesture before disappearing beneath her dress.

Her fingers instinctively clutch at the sheets, her body tensing as a shaky breath escapes her lips.

Art and Patrick both become immobilized, their gazes fixated on the scene before them. Art stands frozen in place, his jaw still dropped as his mind struggles to process the unexpected turn of events, while Patrick quietly steps back to reclaim his seat on the chair, he settles in to enjoy the spectacle with a slightly amused expression. Hormones run high as they observe with a mix of astonishment and arousal.

A strangled moan escapes her lips, a desperate attempt to maintain her composure, as Tashi intensifies her efforts, her focus singular and intense.

Patrick's voice breaks through the heavy ambience, "Jesus, Tashi," he says, chuckling softly. "You're making it hard for the girl to breathe."

As she glances over, she catches sight of Patrick discreetly shifting in his seat, making adjustments in an attempt to soothe his arousal. Her eyes then flicker toward Art, who remains still, his expression filled with shock and disbelief. The evidence of his arousal is blatantly obvious, his tented boxers leaving no room for imagination.

Her body is hot with urgency as she reaches down, her hand tentatively resting atop Tashi's head. Between whimpers, she pleads, "Tash, please—" Her voice is filled with desperation, her need for release palpable in each syllable.

She finds herself on the cusp of her climax at an unexpectedly rapid pace. The combination of alcohol, circumstances, and built-up tension creates an explosive situation. She writhes against the mattress, her moans and pleas escaping in an unfiltered stream of desperate utterances.

Patrick shifts in his chair, trying to find some relief for his building desire. As he shifts uncomfortably, Art is unable to resist the impulse to press his palm against himself, the sight of the unfolding scene proving to be too much for him to resist any longer.

As the music quiets, she slowly comes back down to earth, her eyes fluttering open, still slightly disoriented. 

Tashi emerges from beneath her dress, licking her lips with an air of nonchalance, as though she's just casually finished an ordinary task. Tashi reaches out to help her up, offering her hand with a casual smile that contradicts her earlier actions.

"Well, I'm going to bed," she declares, her tone relaxed and pleasant while her lips form a casual smile.

Tashi's declaration creates a slight stir in the room, leaving everyone slightly dazed, especially her.

She hastily composes herself, adjusting her dress and gathering her heels from the floor. "I'll go with you," she replies, her voice slightly flustered. "My room is on the same floor."

Art swiftly brings his hands to hide his crotch, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over him. Clearing his throat, Patrick speaks up, attempting to diffuse the lingering tension. "We’ll see each other at the finals, right?" The question hangs in the air, serving as both a farewell and an attempt to move past the unexpected scene that just unfolded.

“Of course.” Tashi's warm smile washes over the room as she leaves, the redhead trailing behind her with a hint of confusion. The door closes softly behind them, enclosing the scene within the room and leaving behind a silence that echoes with unspoken emotions and lingering heat.

Patrick's exhale fills the room, followed by his movement as he stands up. "I'll take the bathroom," he mentions, discarding his shirt onto the bed before disappearing into the sanctuary of the bathroom.

Art releases a deep breath, his footsteps carrying him to the bed, where he takes a seat. His eyes catch sight of the forgotten pair of lace panties on the floor. He looks towards the closed bathroom door as if subconsciously assessing the surroundings before gently gathering the panties in his hand, his fingers tracing the soft fabric.

Tashi’s girl?

“Wait, I don’t—I’m not wearing any underwear.” She trails behind Tashi, forcing herself to sober up as she comes to terms with what just happened. The emptiness of the corridor seems to amplify the surreal nature of the situation, her mind slowly clearing up as they make their way toward their respective rooms.

The silence between them stretches, leaving her mind racing as she struggles to make sense of Tashi's ambiguous demeanor. Tashi's attitude is adding to the mental turmoil—each second of silence only amplifying her confusion.

"Tashi, is everything okay?" she queries, genuine concern lacing her words as they approach her door.

Tashi turns to face her, her smile simple yet sweet as she leans in to brush a tender kiss against her lips. The taste of their previous encounter lingers on Tashi's lips.

"Goodnight." Tashi whispers as she steps into her room, leaving her alone in the hallway.

She lingers in the hallway, her mind a whirlwind of confusion as she attempts to make sense of Tashi's actions—racing to make sense of the enigma that is Tashi Duncan.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Top 10 Things I Love About the QL Tumblr Community 2023

I'm loving everyone's end of year lists, and decided to make up one of my own.

I haven't been on Tumblr for very long and was originally just lurking. 2023 marks the year where I finally started posting, after I read a take that made me feel compelled to come to a fictional character's defense. (Saengtai, my poor little blorbo).

So in commemoration of my first proper year of active tumblring, I present what I love about this community (in no particular order).

(Side note - Technically I know this is still primarily a BL community, but I like to say QL because I am trying to manifest more lesbians for us.)

1) The Gifmakers

Y'all are a good 70% of the reason I joined Tumblr in the first place. There are so many show moments that I want to relive, but without having to search through videos. Sometimes I want to appreciate the aesthetics. Sometimes I want to remember adorable or goofy moments. Sometimes I just want to see cute boys eating each other's faces. Our gifmakers give all of that to us, with the addition of so much creativity and style.

There's too many amazing ones to mention everyone, but I have to shout out @sparklyeyedhimbo, because the way your brain works makes me so happy.

2) The expertise

The other part of why I joined Tumblr was to learn more about what BLs were out there and what I might be missing. And holy hell. Y'all are putting in the work. Not only lists and resources for finding all kinds of QLs, like these fabulous monthly breakdowns by @gunsatthaphan, but also amazing posts that add additional context, like @absolutebl's incredibly helpful breakdown of Asian honorifics. There is so much research people do, for fun! And then they share it!

3) The meta analysis

I frickin love reading people's takes and analyses on series. I love learning, I love seeing perspectives from people with different cultural backgrounds to my own, it's all so fascinating! There's so much context we can miss due to our own privileges, or lack of knowing about various cultures, or due to whatever bubbles we've been living in. People here are just so smart, and nuanced, and willing to reflect and think about things, and also push back at each other, but generally with respect (except when you call out the dumb shit you see, usually on Twitter or TikTok, where people are being reductive and dumb about gender and sexuality).

And I've seen a few takes where people complain about analyses, and say that the director/production doesn't do everything deliberately, and we're all reading too much into it. To which I say, eh, lighten up. How people connect to and relate to media has relevance beyond what was intended. The point is we get to think and discuss and learn and grow. That doesn't happen if we don't analyze.

Special shout out here to @respectthepetty because colors mean things!

4) The wild theories

The other side of the analysis coin, the clown cars y'all drive around in with the wildest of theories. I have happily climbed into an occasional clown car, and usually I am utterly wrong (*cough* Saifah *cough*). But it's a super fun ride. I love seeing how people's brains work. I love it when y'all are wrong. I love it when y'all are right. It's beautiful.

5) Immediate acceptance

I am one of those people who knows that I have a lot of good qualities, and also, always kind of expect rejection. Blame the childhood bullies, I guess. Anyway, whenever I delve into a new space, I still feel like a total dork that no one will want to talk to. It's kind of a fraught way to move through the world, but I manage.

Anyway, I started posting my thoughts as they came up, and people are just totally cool with it. People even follow me sometimes. Even my silliest thoughts and dumbest jokes get at least a couple likes. It's so validating.

And my very silly joke about gay mafia in Kiseki has over 800 likes. I feel very seen.

6) Mutuals

I still kind of can't believe I have any. This ties in to the dork feeling above, but seriously - they are soooo cooooool. They're smart and awesome and funny, and they somehow find me worth following back, which is baffling yet wonderful. I want to squish their faces and give them many kisses (if they're into that kind of thing).

7) The self-exploration

I really appreciate how it's become more talked about how a lot of people are discovering queerness through BL, because that is so the case for me. I think it's both that I was in a bit of a hetero bubble before, and also that I'm evolving a bit as I age. I had figured out I was demi, and maybe a little bit gay, before getting in to BL, but being in this community, and seeing so many of you share so openly and freely, has made me realize it might be more than a little bit.

Either it was a new realization, or being around y'all has made me more gay. Win win, either way.

8) The weirdness

I'm weird. Y'all are weird. I love it.

9) The thirst

So many in this community are thirsty as fuck, and as someone who is in that same condition, I love that it's not just me. There are not many places where I can freely admit how horny I am as a part of my general existence.

Here? I could post about wanting to lick some random BL actor's face, and it would get a bunch of likes and some tags like #lickable, and it's just not remotely a big deal.

Also the gifmakers understand this, and give us beautiful cuts of our spicy scenes. They are genuinely too good for us.

10) The communal watching experience

There is absolutely nothing like watching along with people in the community. It is so worth the torture of having to wait week to week for new episodes. Seeing the show trend, watching the theories fly fast and furious, or the way everyone collectively loses their minds over particular moments. In a world that can feel very isolating, it's a very warm experience.

So there you go. Thank you all for being you. Here's to another year of QL shenanigans and losing our collective minds!

[kaleldobrev]

You Make Me Happy

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Fem!Reader

Summary: With you doing what he believes to be an incredibly reckless thing on a hunt, Dean finally realizes how much you really mean to him

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing (2x), Mutual Pining, Slightly angry Dean

Authors Note: Dean just really loves Y/N and wants them to be safe | This came out longer than I expected it to be | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“Dean, I really, really am sorry okay? I don’t know what else you want me to say. I saw a chance and I took it.” Your heart was racing to the point that you wouldn’t have been surprised if it just busted out of your chest. You dropped your duffel bag with a quiet thud at your feet.

Dean turned to you, dropping his duffel bag onto the floor of the Bunker; the sound of the drop slightly echoing unlike yours. When he looked at you, his face was hard, and his jaw was clenched. Although he had the most beautiful green eyes that you have ever seen, despite everything that he has gone through, there was always some kind of light behind them. But in this moment, there was no light behind them – they were dark, ice cold, and his stare was like a sharp knife piercing into your skin. “Sorry? That’s it?” His voice was harsh and sounded just as cold as his stare.

You had seen him mad plenty of times before, this life would do that to you, but this was the first time that you had ever seen him mad at you. Him being mad at you was something that you’d hoped that you never have to experience; because the last thing you wanted was to have Dean Winchester upset with you. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it this time Sweetheart,” he continued. “You did something reckless and almost got yourself killed.”

“Oh, like you’ve never done anything reckless in your life Dean.” The minute you said those words out loud, you knew in your gut that you were in trouble. Dean stepped closer to you, not breaking the cold stare that he had on you. The tension in the room was so thick that you could probably cut it with a knife.

“I may be reckless, but I’m not stupid. What you did…that…that was stupid.” What you had done, you didn’t think it was reckless or stupid; you thought that it was pretty smart considering the circumstances.

The two of you had just gotten back from clearing a vamp’s nest a state over, and it was considered to be a relatively small one – only about three in the nest compared to the usual five plus. With Sam out of commission for the moment – who knew the common flu could make someone like Sam be bed ridden for days – you offered to go along with Dean. At first, Dean didn’t want you to come along because you really weren’t that experienced with vampires. You had taken one out a few years ago, but that was all there was – only one vamp one time; and this was going to be at least three, maybe more. You had reassured Dean that you were not a child and have been hunting for over a decade; something that he sometimes forgets from time to time. While in the warehouse where they were stationed, Dean got cornered by one of the vamps who had knocked his machete from his hand. You were on the top floor and there was a long chain next to you. You eyed the chain and grabbed onto it, your machete in the other hand and swung over and chopped the vamps head off, thus saving Dean. When you touched down, you thought how cool it was, but Dean on the other hand thought it was reckless of you to do something like that. The whole car ride back to the Bunker there were no words exchanged between the two of you unlike the usual banter you had; it was just the sounds of AC/DC.

“Dean, if I didn’t do my little swing and a hit trick back there with that vamp, you would have been dead.” He was closer to you now and all you could do was start backing up; Dean was starting to scare you a bit.

“And if that chain didn’t hold you? Newsflash, you would have been dead too Sweetheart.” There was so much anger building up inside of him. A part of him was grateful for what you did, another part was impressed that you were able to pull off something like that, but the strongest part of him was angry that you risked your life like that, not fully knowing if your little plan was going to work or not. “I’m fucking awesome! Did you see that?” You said to him, the biggest smile plastered on your face. Truthfully, when he saw you do that, he had wanted to kiss you in that moment and tell you how awesome it really looked; how superhero like it looked. But all that came out was, “What the fuck was that?” The second he said those words, your once huge smile dropped.

“I’m gonna go to my room.” You made your way around Dean. “You…you should go shower…cool off.” You suggested.

It had been a few hours since you and Dean had that weird confrontation. Dean had taken a shower like you had suggested he do in order to cool off and was now sitting on the floor of his bedroom with a beer in one hand looking through photos of the two of you. As he drank, he stopped on a particular picture; it happened to be one of his favorites and he honestly had no idea why. The two of you weren’t doing anything particularly special; it was just some random picture that Jack had taken of the two of you about a few months back. For Jack’s birthday this year, you had bought them a polaroid camera because you had wanted to teach Jack about making memories. “Sometimes humans like to take pictures when they want to remember a moment, or a particular person forever.” You had told them. The photo that Jack had taken of the two of you were of you guys sitting next to each other in the War Room, each of you with an open book in front of you on the table with Dean looking at you with the biggest smile on his face. For some reason, this was the moment that Jack had wanted to capture, and Dean had no idea why so he had asked Jack. “You looked happy. It’s like what Y/N said. Humans take pictures when they want to remember a moment or person forever. This moment was happy, and I want us to remember that.” Is how Jack responded to the question.

Dean couldn’t help but smile at the picture. “I really do look happy.” He said aloud to himself. He took a sip of his beer and moved onto the next picture. This one he knew was your favorite. In this picture of the two of you that Jack had taken, you were sitting in front of Baby. Dean was in the driver’s seat like normal with his hands on the steering wheel, while you were in the passenger seat giving him the biggest smile with one of your hands resting on his thigh. Dean had remembered that day clearly – not fully knowing why – but you and him were going to run errands in town. It was supposed to be just the two of you, and for some reason Dean was excited that it was just going to be the two of you. But you had asked Jack if they wanted to come along so they could get more experience being around people. Jack of course said yes and insisted that they bring their polaroid camera. At some point during the drive to town, your hand had found his thigh and you had given it a small pat. Dean asked Jack a few days later after seeing the picture and asked why Jack had taken it. “Y/N looked really happy. I like seeing her happy; like how I like seeing you, Cas, and Sam happy.”

“You looked happy…Y/N looked really happy.” Jack’s words echoed in Dean’s mind. “You really do look happy Sweetheart. God knows why.” Dean commented placing the photo back into the small wooden box he kept underneath his bed. “Humans take pictures when they want to remember a moment or person forever.” Yet another sentence of Jack’s that echoed in the back of his mind. These sentences, looking at these pictures of the two of you, getting unnecessarily angry after the hunt, looking forward to spending alone time with you – it was all starting to click into place for him. These pictures of the two of you and the memories that he had of you were the only things that he would have left to remember you by if you had died on this hunt. He would have lost someone that truly made him happy, and that scared him; the thought of losing you.

You were lying in bed watching TV, still slightly wet from the shower you had just taken. You were under the blankets and wearing one of Dean’s faded Motörhead t-shirts that he had given you because it no longer fit him. He was originally going to throw it out, but you had convinced him to give it to you because, “It still has some life left in it.” In which he replied, “Knock yourself out Sweetheart.”

There was a light knocking at your door. “Who is it?” You asked.

“It’s me.” Dean replied. Dean was the last person you wanted to talk to right now, still slightly upset about the way he had talked to you a few hours earlier.

“Who’s me?” You asked, full well knowing that it was Dean – you recognized his voice, and his footsteps from a mile away. “I don’t know who me is.”

You heard Dean sigh from the other side of the door. “Dean.”

“Come in.” You said shutting off your TV; you had a feeling that he had wanted to talk.

Dean opened your door slowly. “Can we…Can we talk?” He stepped into your room and shut the door behind him.

“Are you going to get mad at me again?” Your question made him sigh.

“No. I’m…I came to apologize. You…you didn’t do anything wrong.” You raised an eyebrow at his weird attempt at an apology.

“You said I was reckless, that what I did was stupid.” You were confused. He was so angry just several hours earlier, not taking your apology but here he was attempting to apologize to you.

“Honestly…the way you swung on that chain and chopped his head off, it was…it was awesome.” He walked toward your bed and sat down on the edge of it. “I know you were only trying to save me. And…you did. Because, truthfully, I’d be as dead as a doornail if it weren’t for your quick thinking back there.”

“So, you’re not…mad?” You questioned.

“No, not anymore. I uh, I shouldn’t have gotten as mad as I did, and truthfully, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at all. But I realized why I was so angry before. I wasn’t angry at you. I was…” He looked you in the eyes; his eyes were no longer full of that darkness and coldness that was there a few hours earlier. “I was mad because I didn’t like the possibility of losing you.” To some, this admission may have seemed like it came out of nowhere, but not for you. For some time you knew how the older Winchester brother had felt about you; but you weren’t completely sure if it was in a platonic or romantic way. But the way he had said it, you knew that the feeling wasn’t platonic – it was romantic in nature.

“Dean.” You inched yourself toward him and placed a hand on his thigh. “You’re not going to lose me, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you may not be able to keep Y/N.” He was afraid, and you could hear his voice was slightly breaking. “I’ve lost too many people that promised me that they were going to come back that didn’t.” You knew about some of the people that he was referring to, but not all of them. Some of the people that he had just hinted at were some of the same ones that you had lost.

“Okay.” Was all you could say at first, knowing that Dean was right. There was no way you could in fact keep that promise; especially being in this life. “But I know…I know there’s one promise that I can keep.” You stated. You removed yourself from underneath the blankets and adjusted yourself to sitting on your knees, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“What’s that Sweetheart?” Dean asked.

“I can promise you that, as long as I live, I’ll always be in your corner no matter what. As a friend, family…” you were unsure if you should say the next couple of words but decided to say them, probably against your better judgement. “Romantic partner…I’ll be there, even if you think I’m not, I will be.”

“Romantic partner uh?” He asked amused, placing his hands on your hips. If someone walked in right now, they would have never guessed that you and Dean had an argument only hours earlier, and just had a somewhat emotional conversation not even a minute ago. “You make it sound so…business like.” A strand of hair fell in front of your face just then, but before you could do anything about it, Dean was already on top of it, tucking the strand behind your ear. Without any kind of hesitation, he leaned in, and so did you; your lips capturing each other’s.

The kiss went on longer than either of you probably expected; and it was the type of kiss that you weirdly weren’t expecting from someone like Dean. It wasn’t rough or lustful; it was gentle and slightly needy. You were the one that broke the kiss between the two of you – something that you thought wouldn’t happen. You looked at him for a moment, slightly brushing his cheek with your thumb. “Does this make us romantic partners now?” You half joked.

“You tell me Sweetheart. It can be anything you want it to be.” He responded.

“Romantic business partners it is.” You stated, leaning in again to kiss him. He was happy for you to of said yes, even if it was in your own weird way.

[joelsdagger]

let it flow || one shot

read on ao3

pairing: sub!frankie x f!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 4.4k (i think something possessed me bc this was originally 1k lmao) summary: you start a new form of birth control which has many side effects but frankie takes advantage of one side effect in particular. warnings: canon divergent, established relationship (reader and frankie are married), sub!frankie, soft dom!reader, body worship, pet names, nipple play, mommy kink, lactation kink, mutual masturbation , praise kink, pre-ejaculation, overstimulation, cumplay, cum eating, fluff.  No use of Y/N. No physical descriptions of reader. um i think that’s it? *scratches neck* disclaimer: this is literally for shits and giggles bc a friend and i were talking about sub!frankie having a lactation kink, but we weren’t feeling the whole pregnancy trope so i found a loophole hehe. after extensive research, i found that certain types of birth control that include progestin *can* increase lactation as well as breast enlargement and tenderness, so i tweaked this specifically for the purpose of this fic. i don’t study medicine so some of this isn’t 100% accurate so if anything is wrong just remember this is just for horny fun and i changed some things to fit what i was going for. if this piece is not for you, that’s cool, obviously not everyone is gonna be into the same stuff but please just move along and let everyone else enjoy the fun.

a/n: thank you for all the love on my first fic i was so incredibly nervous about it but yall have been so so kind. this one is for kat and lyss who gave me this idea and then we screamed about it til 1am. shout out to @skrunkly-scrimblo and @papurgaatika for beta’ing. thanks for reading i hope you like it <3

super cute divider by @saradika

You’re staring back at yourself in the foggy mirror of your bathroom, assessing your breasts, they’re full, heavy and they ache. This is the fourth day in a row of feeling the consequences of your new birth control and the pain has only gotten worse. “The shit we do….fuckin’ birth control,” you mumble under your breath. 

You had switched to a different form of birth control earlier in the week, the IUD route wasn’t working out so well for you. For starters, the pain of getting the IUD implanted was unbelievably excruciating and on top of that, you had ParaGard (the copper IUD) implanted which didn’t have hormones so you were still getting your period. Your periods were heavy and painful and you have been seeking an alternative solution to stop them completely. At your last visit with your gynecologist, you both agreed to switch you over to taking birth control pills. 

Your physician had informed you that the pill form was a progestin-only contraceptive that would decrease the bleeding during your menstrual cycle or possibly get rid of it completely if you skipped the placebo pills on the last week of your pack. There was one not-so-tiny problem, you were not told that being on the pill would make your tits swell and you sure as hell didn’t know the damn pill would make you lactate. 

Earlier today you practically sobbed to your doctor on the phone. 

“Doc, sorry to be blunt but my tits fucking hurt,” you cry, tears welling up in your eyes. At this point, the pain had become unbearable.

“That’s pretty normal hun, it’s a common side effect for some women. As I told you on Monday, the use of a hormonal birth control that contains progestin can increase the likelihood of producing breast milk even if you aren’t pregnant. It’s your hormones adjusting to the pill and it’s going to take your body three to four months to adjust,” your doctor explained.

‘Wait three to four months,” you shout, "Doc, you didn’t mention anything about that. What the hell am I supposed to do?” you ask rashly.

Your doctor hesitates, “Well, we could go back to the copper IUD but then-”

“Then, I’d get my period yeah absolutely not,” you frantically cut her off.

“We could book you to come back in and try another route but I’m booked until the end of the month,” she suggests. 

“Of course you are, you’re like the only nice physician in the office, everyone wants to see you,” you laugh bitterly.

“There is something else that may help until we can see you in the office...many women have said that it helps,” she says.

You cross an arm around your chest, wincing slightly as your arm presses tightly against your chest, before dropping your arm back down at your side, “Okay…what is it?”

“You could massage them or have your husband stimulate your nipples,” she says nonchalantly. 

“Stimulate my nipples?” you hesitate, your eyes widening at her suggestion. 

“Yes, have him use his fingers or-”

“You’re not serious?”

Your doctor chuckles at your curiosity, “Yes, nipple stimulation and other sensual activities, can trigger and release the hormone, oxytocin, commonly referred to as the love hormone. Once oxytocin is triggered, your hormone levels are boosted and then it increases arousal and stress relief. Once it's released into the bloodstream, it helps alleviate breast tenderness and breast pain as well assisting with the flow of breast milk so yes, it’ll help.” she says pointedly.

You stare ahead, wide eyed and mouth agape. What the hell are you supposed to say to that?

“Look honey, many women have come in and told me directly that it helps, believe it or not, it even helps induce labor, but that’s beside the point, many women have been in your position and they have reported that it works. So at least try this out, and see how it makes you feel, just until we can get you an appointment and have you come in and then we can try something else. Alright?” she asks. 

“Yeah alright, thanks again Doc,” you huff, your hand rubs at your temple before dragging it down your face. 

“No problem hun, keep me updated through the portal,” she says. 

“Will do,” you hung up the phone and tossed it on the couch. 

That was six hours ago and now you’re standing in your bathroom as you wait for the bathtub to fill up. You read online that heat therapy could reduce some of the pain. While your husband was at work, you sprawled yourself out across the couch with a heating pad on your chest. It managed to ease the pain for a bit until the set timer turned the heating pad off and the second you stood up, the pain worsened again. 

To be honest, you’re a little embarrassed to bring it up to Frankie. It's not like Frankie won’t want to do it, he’d be very interested but what the hell are you supposed to say to him. Hey honey, my tits hurt and they’re leaking breast milk. Can you play with them a little so they feel better? He loves to engage in a little titty appreciation but this is a whole different ball game. You really aren’t in the mood to have this conversation with Frankie tonight, unsure of how he would react and possibly causing a bigger issue. 

You can hear the TV through the bathroom door, Frankie is watching some game. But when he hears you croak out in pain when you remove your bra, hands clutching at your swollen breasts, he moves lightning fast towards the bathroom door. 

“Querida, are you alright in there?” he asks through the door, his hand wrapped around the door handle.

You bite down on your lip, sighing before you finally bite the bullet and admit what’s going on. You crack open the door just enough so he can hear you better. 

“It’s-,” You let out another exhausted sigh as you rub your temple, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Remember, a few days ago, I went to my gynecologist and we decided to switch birth control methods?” He nods, eyes full of concern. 

“The pills are making my hormones go crazy and they’re making my tits swell and well…” you pull the door open to gesture towards your breasts. “I’m like a fucking pregnant woman but without the damn pregnancy,” you grumble. 

You immediately clock the worry on his face but Frankie can’t help the fact that he is practically salivating when he looks down at your tits. You notice his jaw slacken, his lips part as he takes in the curve of your breasts, they have grown a noticeable difference in size. You hear him inhale sharply when his stare drops to your nipples, dark and swollen. 

Suddenly feeling a little shy under the intensity of his gaze, you bring a hand up to cover your breasts, he inhales once again before speaking, yet you speak before he does, “It’s fine, apparently a bath will help, and I’ve got the water running. I’ll be out in a few minutes babe,” you press, a tight smile on your face. 

You see it all over his face, he wants to help but he doesn’t know how. His big, deep brown eyes filled with worry. “Okay baby, I’ll give you some privacy. I’ll be in the bedroom if you need anything,” he says quietly, eyebrows still raised. You can sense the uneasiness in his body language but he doesn’t press the subject. 

You thank him and shut the door, hearing him step back towards the bed. You slip off your panties and toss them into the hamper, then step into the hot water, sighing as you dip beneath the water.

After a few short minutes, you slowly bring your hands up to cup your breasts, experimentally kneading them. You press your hands more firmly and you bite down on your lip as you try to muffle a quiet moan. Huh. It does help. You continue toying with them until the water is no longer warm and your fingers become pruny. 

Dragging yourself out of the water and stepping out of the tub, you pull the plug out, the water spinning through the drain. Leisurely, you dry yourself off, pull a thin white tank top over your head, and drag a clean pair of blue lace panties over your legs. 

As you open the door to let the steam out of the bathroom, you grab your fuzzy robe from the hook behind the door, wrap it around your damp body, and head into the bedroom to catch the rest of the game with your husband. 

Yet, to your surprise, you find the TV off and instead see Frankie sitting up in bed, one hand tucked behind his head and the other holding his phone as he squints at the screen. 

You chuckle as you walk over to your nightstand. “Thought you were supposed to be wearing your glasses?” You tease, your lips forming into a smile.  

“I look dorky with ‘em, ‘sides I don’t need them right now,” he mimics your tone and turns his head to watch as you pump some of your cocoa butter body lotion into your hand and work it into your skin.  

“So, I did some googling,” he starts, a sly smirk creeping up onto his face as he continues, “It said…messaging them and sucking on them would help.” His eyes are still on the bare parts of your damp skin, completely enamored by how your skin looks in the dim light of your bedroom. 

You tense, hands freezing, streaks of lotion yet to be fully rubbed into your skin, “Baby, that’s ridiculous,” you laugh him off. 

“No, I’m serious look,” Frankie sits up and moves across the bed, holding out his phone for you to read the article he was studying beforehand.

“I don’t know about this Frankie,” you shake your head, frowning while you avert your eyes from his. 

“Come here,” smirking devilishly as he brings his hands up to your arms, pulling you towards the bed. 

“Frankie–” you scoff, playfully rolling your eyes at him. 

He tilts his head up to look up at you with those big brown eyes that you often find difficult turning down. “Trust me,” his hands rubbing up and down your arms soothingly.  

“You know I do, Frankie, the hell did I marry you for,” you tease, you sneak your hands behind his neck and interlock your fingers as you lean down and press a soft kiss to his head.   

“Then c’mere, let me help,” he whispers and it sounds more like a plea. He’s pulling you down onto the bed, guiding you to sit up against the pillows. His hands find your robe, untying the knot in the soft belt across your waist. You lean forward slightly while he pulls your robe off slowly,  his eyes watching your face, searching for any indication to stop but he doesn’t find any. 

He tosses the robe behind him on the bed as he leans down over you, nudging your legs open as he settles himself between your legs. He brings his hands back up to the thin material of your tank top, cupping your tender breasts in his large hands. 

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect, fuck–, so pretty baby,” he babbles lowly, goosebumps erupt on your skin, even after years of being married to him he still knows exactly what to say to make you feel so desirable. 

He gently squeezes your breasts, his thumb sweeps over your nipple back and forth, you whine softly as your hands find his hair, burying your fingers in his curls. It hurts but it’s pleasurable, the pressure he’s using feels better than what you were doing earlier in the bath. 

Frankie pinches your covered nipples between his rough fingers, hardening under his touch, you hiss when he tweaks them tightly, Frankie pauses, his eyes meet yours for a moment, “it’s okay–feels good, keep going,” you whisper to him. 

He brings his mouth down to one of your nipples and sucks it through the material with his other hand still fondling your other nipple. “Fuck– that feels good Frankie,” you moan, he whimpers lowly and feels his cock twitch in his boxers. Your eyes roll back in your head, your mouth falls open and he hollows his cheeks, sucking harder around your nipple. 

His mouth lets go of your breast, you look down to see the wet patch that formed over your peaked-covered nipple before he hastily pulls the tank top over your head, tossing it onto the floor, Frankie lets out a shameless groan when his eyes hungrily lock on your bare chest like a missile to a target. 

He leans in closer, his mouth hovering over your breast. You feel the warmth of his breath over your breast, a tingling sensation sneaks down your body. His hot mouth closes around your pebbled nipple. 

“Shit, Frankie,” you arch further into his mouth, and he moans and his tongue flicks up against your peaked nipple, and then he bites down softly, his eyes open, looking up at you from under his eyelashes. Frankie feels a slight warm gush fill his mouth, his eyes slip closed, whimpering around the bud. 

You tug on Frankie’s hair, pulling his mouth away from you, your stomach twisting at his reaction when he feels the gush of liquid filling his mouth. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that would happen-”

“Baby, hey, it’s okay. I was just surprised-” 

“No I know, it’s just gross,” you frown, feeling the pang of embarrassment in your belly.

“It’s not–it’s not gross. I–I liked it,” Frankie says sheepishly. 

“Really?” you ask softly. 

He laughs lightly and leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth then another just below your jaw. His beard scraping along your skin as he places wet open-mouthed kisses down your neck, all the way down past your collarbones until he reaches the valley of your breasts once again.

“Relax baby, I got ya,” he whispers against your skin.

Your eyes squeeze shut, your head falls back against the headboard, and your hand comes up to the nape of his neck, petting at his long brown curls. He ducks down to bring his mouth to your nipple, he parts his lips around the bud, his tongue circling around the bud a few times, licking at your nipple, he closes his lips and sucks softly before tugging it between his teeth, he hums around it, making you grasp at the sheets beneath you, a low ache building in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s it baby boy,” you say softly, petting his hair. You open your eyes when you feel him press his cock against your leg, his cock stirring in his boxers at your praise. 

He’s loving this, loves the taste of you and loves how good he’s making you feel. 

His hand palms your other breast, squeezing and kneading the meat of your tit, beads of milk collecting at the peak. He takes your nipple in between his calloused fingers and pinches it harder between his index and middle finger, the milk pours out from the bud down his hand and onto his forearm. 

Frankie feels the warm liquid on his arm, his mouth letting go of your breast, his pupils full of lust never leaving your face as he lifts his left hand up and licks a long slow, thick stripe from his forearm up his hand. Your mouth falls open and your chest heaves at the sight. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby,” he groans, his eyes closing at the taste of you. His cock twitches against your leg, now painfully hard in his boxers. 

He dips his head back down and licks up the milk leaking down your torso up to your nipple. He moans once his hot mouth latches around the stiff peak and his tongue swirls around it. He laps up the warm white liquid he’s sucking out of your breast. “There you go baby, just like that,” you sigh, closing your eyes and your head falls back against the headboard. 

One of his knees perches onto your leg, he grinds his cock against the meat of your thigh, he moans deeply, his fingers digging into the flesh of your breasts. “So, needy for me huh, baby boy,” you tut, gripping firmly onto his soft curls. 

He whines quietly, and unbeknownst to Frankie, he starts rutting his hard length against your leg in slow, shallow thrusts, you feel a rumble of a moan in his throat around your nipple. At the sudden movement, your head snaps up to see your husband getting himself off against your body, his teeth sinking into your breast. 

You’ve never seen him like this before, he’s insatiable and relentless and it makes your pussy pulse and clench around nothing. 

“Ohhh that’s it– good boy Frankie,” you moan breathlessly, feeling him suck harder on your breast with a deep groan.

You grab at Frankie’s hair again, your hand combs his hair back while tugging at his hair, gently pulling his head back and he whines loudly when you pull his mouth away from your breast. You catch a glistening sheen on his lips when you direct his head to your other breast. 

Your eyes meet his dark, blown out pupils as your thumb rubs his cheek down to the corner of his mouth. You thumb the bottom of his plump, soft lip, wiping the milk off of his mouth. Your thumb slips between his lips and you whisper, “Who’s my good boy?” 

He shivers beneath your touch, “I am,” he murmurs softly, his head resting down on your chest once again. Your hand cradles his head and you move your hand down along his head to cup his face.

You watch your husband’s eyes shut as he closes his mouth around your nipple and continues suckling from your breast, “Fuck– Frankie, keep going,” you pant into his hair, your hands still toying with his curls, eliciting another whine from him. 

He shifts and begins fucking himself into the mattress once again, seeking any type of friction possible. 

Watching your husband getting himself off to your body sends a sharp, hot spark of arousal down your spine straight to your core, your pussy throbbing and your panties now wet and sticky with your slick. 

You smirk and bring your lips down to his ear, whispering the word that you know lights a fire within him.  “You’re making mommy feel so good baby,” and Frankie whimpers, his mouth swallowing your breast whole, his hips grinding down faster into the mattress. 

“That’s it, baby, atta boy, such a good boy for mommy,” you coo into his ear. Frankie lets out a high-pitched whine, his hips stuttering and groaning when he feels himself spilling out all over the inside of his boxers. Your mouth falls open, your eyes wide as you stare at him, realizing he just came simply from putting his mouth on you. 

His hips shudder, occasionally jerking erratically, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he hisses from overstimulation, you continue whispering praises into his ears. 

While his mouth works on relieving your breast you take matters into your own hands, bringing your fingers down to your neglected cunt. You press your fingers into your covered slit, feeling the wetness of your pussy through the material before pushing your panties to the side. You move your fingers to your throbbing clit, circling eagerly while his tongue swirls over your nipple. 

He bites down on the bud a little more harshly, feeling another gush of warm liquid in his mouth, “tastes so good mi corozòn,” he whimpers against your breast, closing his eyes while his teeth nip at the wet bud. 

Feeling a cooling wetness from his eyes seeping onto your breast, you briefly look down to find tears stinging his eyes from the pleasure, the teeth marks on your nipples, your skin all wet and red from his mouth. 

He continues sucking at your breast, licking up the sweet taste of you into his mouth and moaning around your nipple, savoring the taste. 

You slip your fingers into your wet heat with a moan. “So good, Frankie, ohhh– you’re doing so well for mommy,” you gasp out while grinding your hips up into your own hand.  He whimpers, his cock twitches, throbbing lightly against the mattress, he’s getting hard just from hearing that word once again. 

Your other hand roughly tugs on Frankie’s soft locks, pushing his head further into you, swallowing more of your breast into his mouth. 

Frankie was too far gone to notice, but you realize he’s grinding himself into the bed once again, still moaning and whimpering into your tender flesh. You thrust your fingers into your pussy, timing them to Frankie’s thrusts into the bed, the wet squelch from your fingers thrusting in and out obscenely echoes in your bedroom. 

“That’s perfect, Frankie— don– don’t stop…shit. I’m so close–” You curl your fingers inside yourself, petting at the spongy spot deep inside while his teeth nip and lick and suck at your tit. 

You shout Frankie’s name as your back arches off the bed, legs shaking around Frankie’s body when your orgasm finally sweeps over you. 

He pulls off your nipple with a wet pop, moving fast to sit up and back on his knees, his hands making quick work of pulling off his underwear. His cock bobs up against the soft swell of his stomach. He hisses when he wraps a large hand around the girth and he thumbs the wide blunt of his tip smearing the beads of pearly white dribbling out from the slit. 

Your tongue pokes out, licking your bottom lip before biting down on the flesh. Your hands massage your breasts, your fingers pinching your erect, sensitive nipples under Frankie’s fucked out gaze. 

Desperately, he fists his cock over your figure. “Come, baby. Be a good boy and come for mommy,” you order him while staring into his eyes, dark and dilated, his mouth hanging open as he strokes his cock. 

Your low voice and your words are all he needs to bring him over the edge. The thrusting of his hips gets more erratic as he jacks his cock tighter in his hand and increases the pace, the wet, lewd slap from his strokes gets louder, his whimpers and pants filling the otherwise quiet room. 

“There you go, atta boy, give it to me Frankie, let it out," you encourage him softly. 

Your eyes watch the muscles in his soft belly tighten and his thighs tensing up, his moans growing louder and louder and louder, his eyes roll back into his head, “Fuck– mami,” a long drawn out, agonizing groan slipping past his lips, you watch as his cock twitches in his hand, his hips stammer as long, thick, warm ropes of cum paint your stomach. 

“That’s it baby, just like that, you did so good. So good Frankie,” you murmur. He opens his eyes and looks back down at you, still catching his breath while he watches the last of his cum spill onto your swollen breasts, he groans seeing the marks he’s left on your skin. Your tits are covered in splotches of red and teeth marks from his mouth, his come and the milk from your breasts leaking down your chest and onto your stomach. 

His hair is a mess, his pupils are blown out, he looks completely in a haze, utterly fucked out. You smirk up at him and click your tongue, “You made such a mess on mommy, Frankie.” 

His cheeks warm, the redness creeping down his neck and chest, he’s embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he mumbles, his hand scratching the back of his neck.  

You move your fingers down your stomach, gathering his cum onto your fingers, “Don’t get shy on me now, come here my love,” your other hand reaches for him.

He crawls up towards your side, you slip a coated finger into your mouth and you close your eyes and hum. Frankie curses quietly to himself, seeing your pearly-covered finger slipping into your mouth and back out devoid of sheen. 

You bring a finger up to his mouth, your fingertip pressing against his lips, “open,” you order. You take advantage of his jaw slackening, sticking your glossy finger into his mouth and his lips close around your digit. You feel his tongue flatten underneath your finger then swirls it around your finger as he sucks it clean, he closes his eyes, his brows furrow, and he moans at the salty taste. 

“See, I keep telling you, you taste good, sweetheart,” you smile down at him, tucking a single brown lock behind his ear. 

“You did so good for me baby, made me feel so good,” you tell him while holding his patchy-bearded face. He chuckles timidly before pressing his lips to yours, licking behind your teeth, tasting himself in your mouth and mumbles a faint I love you against your lips.  

Frankie pecks your lips again before sitting up and walking over to the bathroom. You hear him flick the light on and the tap turning on and off while your eyes drift shut. You feel the warm wet rag dragging across your tummy and your tits, and then down between your folds as he cleans you up with tenderness. 

You open your eyes again when you hear him pad off towards the bathroom once more, watching him toss the washcloth back in the bathroom before he tucks himself into your side and nuzzles his face into the valley of your breasts, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling your skin.  

Frankie’s low voice breaks the comfortable silence, “Next time it hurts, you tell me cariño, ‘m more than happy to do that again,” he says shyly, feeling the smile on his face against your chest.

You fail to suppress your giggle, “Yeah, you enjoyed yourself didn’t you, sweet boy?” Your fingers run through his long soft brown curls, your fingertips grazing down his neck, a hint of sweat at the end of his hair along the back of his neck. 

“Mhm,” he hums, and you grin into his hair, pressing your lips to his messy curls, your eyelids heavy with sleep. He feels your fingers still, Frankie tilts his head to look up at you, “Don’t fall asleep yet, we’re not done mi vida, I still need to make you come again.”

[stardustdiiving]

The way Wanderer & Nahida function on teyvat’s hypothetical social media to me is Nahida has like a public figure verified account as the Dendro Archon right and she posts either formal sumeru news announcements, or very earnest personal positivity posts split between telling ppl to practice self care and drink water :) or excitedly sharing cool fun facts about plants/hyper specific research niches she finds interesting. A majority of these posts are often rather confusing because she either employs her Weird Metaphors in them or is explaining trivia too complicated for most ppl to understand.

While a lot of ppl generally think this is very silly & r like thank u Devi Kusanali very cool she also sometimes gets a lot of irony poisoned “I love being a hater” types in her notifs ragging on her for being cringe and Emotionally Sincere—which she seems to barely notice. Wanderer, however, (who’s main social media presence consists of a small private account he only lets people he likes follow where he posts pictures of nice scenery he saw while wandering or incredibly smug selfies with people he just beat in a fight sprawled out on the ground behind him), sees this and gets on his only other account (a public burner he uses to argue with other akademiya students about research topics) and starts replying to the hate comments under Nahida’s post threatening to beat their ass in increasingly absurd ways because he thinks it’s funny

No one has any idea who’s running his account but it immediately becomes a running joke on the website bc everyone thinks it’s completely insane and it also causes discourse that results in Traveler (who posts once a month but accidentally goes viral all the time bc everyone thinks Traveler being on social media is really funny and half their posts about their everyday life read like dril tweets) getting ppl making “awareness posts” about them being mutuals with Wanderer’s burner account because it is “very concerning they support death threats”, to which everyone starts arguing about the ethics of being mean to gods on the internet and if it qualifies as child hating behavior if the child in question is 500 years old. Meanwhile Nahida has not been online for the last 3 days because she’s in the forest having fun with the Aranara and Wanderer does not care in the slightest because he just thought it would be entertaining to cause problems on purpose. Someone during the discourse gets particularly mean and nasty about Nahida and he replies by posting their full IP address and nothing else

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Shipping War - Round 2 Side B

ZoLaw art by @jack-pictures. Check out the original post here!

Propaganda under the cut.

Propaganda for Sanji x Law:

North blue bitches unite!! Law is definitely a nerdy fanboy who fell in love, just look at the gif i submitted. Also remember the extremely gay way law landed on sanji's shoulder in wano? Other ships could never!

Why have one traumatized north blue twins when you can have two?

North Blue boys and their trauma

Propaganda for Zoro x Law:

they're just both really good at sword play :P

Grumpy swordmen? What's a better ship?!

Sword guys, great way to go from releasing tension to topless and sweaty and close together, Zoro gets lost and Law enjoys wandering so they just go on walks together, both incredibly intense in what they do, both unlikely to back down, understand each other reasonably well, Zoro can deal with Law's brand of stupid/crazy/D

I think their interactions are fun :)

Law: "Let them kill you! Be ready to die for the plan!" Zoro: *is ready to die for the plan* Law: "NO!"

They have ao much in common! Both are swordsmen and they both have cursed swords (at least one). They're both pretty deadpan but not above getting into shenanigans with luffy. They just fit!

Two moody, broody swordsmen who are really bad at expressing their feelings, but deep down, you know that they are softies. They would bicker with each other but at least understand that the sarcasm is like a love language. They can at least share that mutual respect of having to be the strong one, especially surrounded by a crew of silly goofy guys.

They are perfect together because they are both massive nerds who think they're just so freaking cool, but they're not. Literally every time everyone else is freaking out about something they're like "pfft losers." But THEY are the losers.

It's two guys who are obsessed with Luffy who are in love, it's swordsman x swordsman, it's the two straight men together, it's jock/goth. I just think they would have nasty sex and I'm into it.

Both of these poor gay boys accidentally fell in love with the most aroace mf in all the blues. So they fuck each other to cope.

[strang3lov3]

Holy fuck! Not one, but TWO milestones to celebrate!

Sometime in April I hit 5000 followers and I was gonna celebrate then, but with my one year fic anniversary gbu899i (< my cat Gizmo typed this, we're leaving it here. Everyone wave to him) and mostly because the end of the semester right around the corner, I decided to wait until May in order to give this the attention it deserves. Here we are! May 10th marks one year of me writing fic here on tumblr, and I want to celebrate both achievements.

Your support has played such a vital role in making writing such a gratifying hobby of mine. Whether you’ve been here since I started writing a year ago or just recently stumbled across my blog, it means the world to me. Having people read, like, reblog, comment, and engage with my fics is beyond fucking incredible. You keep me inspired to keep writing.

It’s not easy for me to stick to a hobby for a year. Ask the 20% finished afgan I started knitting two years ago that hasn’t been touched in months!! It’s beyond cool to have both a date on the calendar and such a pretty number to reflect how hard I’ve worked, and neither the date nor the number would be possible without you. Thank you 🩷

So we’re gonna celebrate. I haven’t done one of these before, unless you count the time I hit 2000 followers and said “send me requests!” and then did just one of them and zero others because I was so overwhelmed. So we’re taking a slightly different approach this time…

I’m thinking an extended sleepover, lol. Depending on how many participate, for a week or so you can send me asks from the prompts below and we’ll have some fun with them.

@noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal heavily inspired these choices with their recent follower celebrations 🩵

🐈‍⬛ Show and tell - send me pics of your pets, or Pedro if you don’t have any pets, brownie points for Kieran Culkin pics, or anything else that you love. And tell me all about it, and I’ll show you something I love! 👯‍♀️ I want to get to know each other better, so tell something about yourself or ask something about me. If you want, you can use this and this (⬅️ two send an emoji posts) for prompts 🏞️ Request a Moodboard (my favorite) I love doing moodboards, just tell me what you wanna see and I’ll do my best. 🗳️Send me a poll that you wanna see! Ask any question, let us all decide the answer. 🍆 Send me your dirty horny old man headcanons. I’m a horndog for some old men and I can’t change who I am. 📖 Send me your own writing (or another’s work that you love) I actually have a summer reading project where I’ve tagged each and every one of my mutuals to send me their own works for me to read all summer. So consider this just an extension of that- please send me the links to works you’ve written and/or works you’ve read and enjoyed so that I can enjoy them too and support fellow writers ✍️ 🩷 I enjoy just about anything, but I have a soft spot for dark/dub-con, masturbation, uhhhh anything hot and dirty like that. 👩‍💻Request some writing. I can do Joel, Roman Roy, and I’m maaaybe feeling brave about Frankie. @beefrobeefcal has dibs on my first Frankie fic anyway. Horny and debauched thots encouraged, dare I suggest dark as well? Fluff too, though I think I suck balls at writing it. I’ve been told I should do drabbles,,, that’s not really how I roll with my writing but I’m willing to try. It’s entirely possible and actually likely you’ll get a full length fic, in which case, it’ll take some time to get those done so bear with me. Depending on how many requests for writing I get, I may cut off requests at a certain point too. *It’s also possible I won’t jive with your idea, in which case please don’t feel bad. I only want to write something I feel I can do well, and if I can’t, that’s not on you.

GOD I am a rambler. I could have said so much less. But I hope to hear from some of you all and have some fun! Love you love you love you.

Tagging some friends, readers, and mutuals who’ve made writing what it is for me 🩷 I love you all @ievutebebe @pinkypromisepascal @yazsos @heartfairy @magpiepills @medellintangerine @merz-8 @bitchesuntitled @theweedisasterxoxo @covetyou @theywhowriteandknowthings @futuraa-free @smok3r7 @toxicanonymity @atticrissfinch @xdaddysprincessxx @whatsnewalycat @addictedtotlou @littlevenicebitch69 @marisferasiop @joelsgreys @just-some-random-blogger @ghostlovesbaguettes @sweetenerobert @swiftiegirliepop @joeloverture @dorims @munsonhoneybaby @umnitsa @nostalxgic @yazsos @rainbowcosmicchaos @rav3n-pascal22 @604to647 @starry-eyes-love @paleidiot @bluecookies-and-ink @beardedjoel @aestheticisinq @corazondebeskar @axshadows @kyloispunk @survivingandenduring @pedroswife69 @bean-is-reading @pedroshotwifey @casa-boiardi @knittingandfanfics @molt3ngold @worhols @iknowisoundcrazy @nostalxgic @pattwtf @cerridwen007 @corozondebeskar @blackmetalamazon @jazzysnazzys @sheepdogchick3 @alltheseperfectimperfections @mermaidgirl30

[txttletale]

Wtf is Lancer and why is it shit (serious question)

lancer is a tabletop roleplaying game made by the guy who drew kill six billion demons and another guy. i wouldn't call it 'shit', necessarily--it's good in a lot of the ways that matter. it's first and foremost a tactical mech combat game and on that level it's incredible. its ruleset is finely tuned, provides great amounts of GM support to make running what might otherwise be overwhelmingly crunchy combat easier, and has a truly stunning and cool level of character customization available. so as a game, i think it's great fun to play and run, genuinely innovative, and a huge step forward for battlemap tactical wargame type TTRPGs in general.

the lore though, kind of sucks. i think it has two clear and overlapping core problems. problem #1 is that it is a utopia as envisioned by a social democrat. it's a world which the text describes as 'post-capitalist' (but there are still evil megacorporations with private armies who own slaves) and 'post-scarcity' (but only in the developed 'core' systems, so. y'know. there's scarcity). at many points in the text they say that Union (the game's main faction) is utopian, throwing around that exact word a bunch of times as well as 'mutual aid' and 'direct action' and the like. but what they describe is just kind of an imperialist Space Sweden with several distinct forms of slavery that constantly expands and uses its Benevolent Imperial Power to intervene on the Backwards Violent Worlds on its outer border but its good because its just trying to bring them UBI.

to show what i mean, here's one of the game's writers¹ talking about how it would be morally wrong for Union to, say, appropriate the property of a private military corporation that also operates as a fascist nation-state:

it's 'revolution' as imagined by the limpest of social democrats. and of course this would honestly be fine, whatever, most sci-fi settings are fundamentally achingly liberal, but the game goes so out of its way to signpost how Radical it is and how Hopeful and Liberationist you're meant to see the setting as

the other core problem is closely related--it feels like the lancer guys put every cool sci-fi idea they had into lancer even when it completely clashes with the core ideas behind it. like, AIs in this settings are callled 'NHPs' (non-human persons) and they're eldritch god-like beings from another dimension who have be kept 'shackled' (lancer's words, not mine!) to keep them as pliant and obedient AI assistants instead of hostile eldritch abominations. this is obviously horrifying and dystopian but it rules, it would be sick fucking worldbuilding for something with the tone of 40k or a one-off doctor who or star trek episode--but as a fundamental technology foundational to what we are supposed to believe is a post-revolutionary society founded on mutual aid and solidarity and blah blah blah it's glaringly dissonant.

bear in mind this is all just going off the rulebook. lancer fans have told me that the supplements and campaign modules fix some of this or contextualise it. but on the other hand communists have told me that they make it worse and i trust the communists more. i leave you with this incredible passage from the game's foreword:

[seangelfish]

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT FOR A LONG TIME YEIII amh I could ask for headcanons for bae and kanata with a cute mc fem from the town who just arrived in the city therefore she doesn't know anything about paradox or hiphop or the city in general je but she is open to learning new things uvu that would be all ~ thank you

MEETING A NEWCOMER

Featured characters: Allen Sugasano, Hajun Yeon, Anne Faulkner, Kanata Yatonokami ♡ Tags: Headcanons but also a bulletpoint fic, mutual crush, casual romance, she/her pronouns, not really proofread! Not really sure what to write for Hajun, so I'm sorry if it's not up to standard! ♡ Word count: 1,895 ♡ Synopsis: You, a newcomer, was introduced into a city of hip hop. You didn't quite understand it, but you were eager to learn from the people around you.

You have moved here for university, not knowing what this city was actually known for. You just assumed it was any other ordinary city...

Allen, who was one of your fellow classmates at university was an odd one. He didn't look friendly so you didn't try socialising with him at first, but when you saw how he acted towards his friends, you decided to at least try.

You found out that he was just awkward. He greeted you in return when you introduced yourself, but his eyes started sparkling when you mentioned that you were new to the area. He asked whether you're into hip hop, but if you weren't, he had some recommendations for you to listen to.

"Is hip hop that big here?" you asked him curiously.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed. "There used to be this place called Club Paradox where..."

You listened to him ramble on and on about hip hop and these legends called 'Buraikan' who founded these so-called 'Phantom Lives.'

It was all a little confusing, but it had you intrigued. Because of this, the two of you had exchanged contact info so Allen would be able to send you his recommendations. When you were finished listening to them, you would text him your thoughts. Gradually, you started having a taste for hip hop that in your free time, you'd visit record shops looking for songs that you haven't heard of yet!

Allen was always so appreciative of how willing you were to indulge in his interests — in his life. He wanted to show you more about the city and about hip hop, but he also just wanted to spend more time with you.

"I also produce and write my own songs!" Allen said one day, hoping that would impress you. "Would you like to listen to them?"

"Seriously? That's so cool. Of course, I'd like to listen!"

"Alright, just meet me at the club! I'm performing there as BAE with Anne and Hajun."

"C-Club?"

"Oh, haven't you been to a club before? Then I'll accompany you before our performance starts. It'll be fun!"

Why not? you thought.

Allen picked you up before his performance and showed you around the club. It was an interesting yet fun experience, but what you found kind of weird was how he kept holding your hand throughout it all. You didn't think too much of it though. He was probably doing that in consideration of you, so you wouldn't get lost in the crowd.

"So yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it!" he said. "Will you be okay here? We're starting in ten minutes."

"Yes, I'll be fine," you replied. "I can't wait to see you perform!"

"Alright, see you later, (Y/N)!"

Watching him perform live was amazing. You finally understood why people here liked watching 'Phantom Lives.' They were incredible! You were so drawn into Allen's performance that you couldn't see anything else but him.

"Haha, how was it?" he asked you, panting.

"It was so cool!" you chirped. "And that was the song you wrote too? It was great!"

"Hahaha, thanks, (Y/N)!"

So whatever Allen did with hip hop, you were there too. You became closer to him than before that he no longer was a classmate to you, but someone even more special.

Just like everyone else, you were drawn to Hajun's prince-like charms, but you never dared to speak to him. He was definitely on another level than you, and you didn't want to disturb him with your plain, ordinary presence.

However, fate brought you together when Hajun spoke to you first. He picked up clues that you were new around here and wanted to help you familiarise yourself.

Confused but thankful, you accepted his offer. He was like a tour guide, bringing you in his limo around the city. It was kind of awkward at first, but he eased you into it when he would ask you where you came from and why you decided to move. He was friendly, but you could taste the way he teased you too.

After bringing you to so many places, Hajun had asked you if you knew about hip hop or anything to do with phantom lives. When you denied it, he merely chuckled and said that you should watch him perform. He didn't go further than that, so you had to find out yourself what he meant by it.

BAE was his hip hop group where they performed phantom lives at clubs. You entered by yourself, waiting for the show to begin. Hajun was up there on stage accompanied by Anne and Allen. Their performance was spectacular. The way Hajun rapped was something you didn't expect coming from him, but at the same time, it made perfect sense.

"So you made it," he teased. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Y-Yes, it was good!" you exclaimed. "Those were the illusions you talked about? They were pretty! How were you able to do that?"

"With my phantometal, of course," he replied, showing you the feather ring on his finger. He let you touch it due to curiosity. "Isn't it cool~?"

"It is!" you giggled. "Can I watch you perform again next time?"

"Haha, sure."

Not only did Hajun help you with familiarising yourself with the city, but with university work too. You should be grateful though because he wasn't doing this for just anyone. However, he was also questioning his actions when he thought about it.

He supposed that he was helping you out so much because he was also in a similar position when he arrived in Japan. He just wanted to make your experience here easy for you.

Plus hanging out with someone cute like you was actually fun. He loved answering whatever questions you threw at him especially those relating to hip hop. He always looked forward to your daily greeting in person and text.

Anne had caught an interest to you almost immediately. Of course, it was because you were cute, but it was also because your outfits were embarrassingly plain. They wondered if you'd allow them to dress you up. So one day in class, they introduced themselves.

Once Anne took in the info that you were new here, they were even more excited to become your friend. They wanted to show you everything! Entertainment, fashion, music, everything you were interested in!

And that's how you were introduced to hip hop too.

Taking in the knowledge of the city from Anne was like homework. They dumped everything on you so quickly that it was hard to grasp, but as they pulled you around the city, it was always so exhilarating.

"Oh, I'm also a part of BAE," they said. "It's the hip hop unit I'm in with Allen and Hajun. We usually perform at clubs, but we're going to be competing in Paradox Live next!"

"P-Paradox Live?" you queried. You knew of phantom lives since Anne mentioned those before, but this was different.

"Yep, it's gonna be huge! We're going up against other hip hop units to win ten billion! You'll come support us, right?"

Of course you were.

But standing in front of Club Paradox was intimidating. Everyone around you looked excited out of their minds, but you were the opposite.

"(Y/N), over here!" called out Anne. As you turned, they linked your arm with theirs and led you inside with Allen and Hajun. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to leave you here," they continued. "But watch us closely, okay?"

Watching Anne perform that night was thrilling. Even when the rest of the units performed their songs, Anne's performance was something you couldn't shake off. The illusions that they described to you through words could not compare to the real thing.

After that, you would always watch Anne in person whenever they were performing with BAE in Paradox Live; cheering them on and voting for them. Anne would always look for you in the crowd too, happy that you appeared in their life.

Unlike BAE, you didn't meet Kanata at university. You bumped into him on the streets to university. You were lost and that's how you ended up at the slums. He thought you were an idiot, but he helped you out anyway.

You explained that you were new to the city, so you still didn't know your way around. Kanata was disinterested, but when you asked him why hip hop was so prevalent around here, his ears perked up.

He explained everything, but he also mentioned how there's 'real hip hop' and those who desire to make hip hop but fail. You were curious about what he meant by this, so you pressed him further into showing you what 'real hip hop' was.

He was about to refuse. He didn't really want to get close to you to begin with, but seeing that sparkle in your eye made him think otherwise. It also didn't help that you were kind of cute.

"Fine," he breathed. "When do you finish uni? I could show you today."

And so he did. After dropping you off at university, he picked you up straight after you were finished. It was evening by then, so the streets you walked on were crowded with people waiting for a team called 'Cozmez' to perform.

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you into some shady underground business, situating you in a corner where he was sure nobody could disturb you.

"Just stay here," he said. "You'll be okay."

"W-Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm performing."

Before you could say anything else, he grinned. "You'll see what real hip hop is, (Y/N)."

And he was gone. You noticed that he was with someone else too, someone that looked oddly similar to him that you just knew he was his brother. When they were on stage, the crowd cheered louder than before.

That's when Kanata started rapping. You watched him intently, your eyes following his every movement, his every word. The music was loud, but it was exciting.

"So this is a 'phantom live'..." you murmured to yourself as you watched the illusions the twins were creating. "It's beautiful..."

You didn't expect Kanata to come back to you right after performing, but he did, asking you what you thought of it. You caught the slight bit of excitement in his question which also surprised you because even if you had just met him today, you already had his character noted down in the back of your mind. He was rude and aggressive, but he was also kind in a way.

You smiled. "It was awesome! I can't believe this is what I was missing out on!" you replied. "You were amazing, Kanata!"

His cheeks heated up, but you couldn't tell as it was dim. "Thanks," he said casually.

"Eh~ who's this?" asked his twin. "Kanata, I didn't think you were that type of person–"

"I-It's nothing like that!"

Nayuta introduced himself because if his brother was willing enough to bring a random girl to a place like this, he was sure that Kanata was a little interested in you.

"Be good to my brother, okay?" he whispered into your ear teasingly.

From then on, you became close to the Yatonokami twins, but you were even closer to Kanata, the boy who helped you on your first day. He became a lot more patient with you as he introduced you to even more places around the city, familiarising yourself with hip hop and the story behind it. It was always so fun learning more things when it was with Kanata.

And perhaps, Kanata was a little thankful that you got lost in the slums that day too.

Intro page | Paradox Live masterlist | Request rules

[bagopucks]

C. Caufield - Misunderstand Us

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Cole Caufield x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning(s); insults, cursing, arguments and fighting.

Not exactly enemies to lovers, but enemies to ‘on the way to lovers’

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The soundtrack of Grease played through my earbuds as I pulled a sweatshirt on and stepped out of my bedroom. The cool wood floor greeted my once warm feet as I walked down the hall and eventually down the steps. The Hughes lake house was too quiet. Especially for it being the middle of the day, with more than three boys inside. When Quinn invited me, I only agreed because I hadn’t planned my own vacation. I never imagined how difficult it would be to live in a house with guys everywhere. I knew though, that the silence was the consequences of horrible hangovers from a night of heavy drinking. They were all either still in bed, or slinking around somewhere like zombies.

My only lifeline was Ellen when she came to visit. My sweet relief was seeing her car in the driveway on some afternoons, to free me from the testosterone filled prison that was the lake house.

When I heard a thud, I was quick to pull one of my earbuds out. The noise came from the kitchen, and I assumed that’s where I would find the boys.

I rushed into the doorway, and drew in a deep breath to greet them- until I realized the room was empty. Aside from one blonde haired boy on his knees, on the counter.

“Damnit!” I heard him mutter. Cole. The one guy I simply couldn’t get along with.

“Keep reaching, sweets.” I immediately spoke, startling the blonde- who almost fell off the counter when I startled him.

He turned his body to look back at me, surprise melting into distaste.

“Shut up.” He glared before he looked back at the cabinet he was trying to reach the back of. The cereal cabinet. I smirked and shook my head.

I never meant to have an issue with Cole. My hatred simply developed when we first met. He was very forward.. flirtatious and cocky. I couldn’t stand it. Apparently he didn’t like my attitude much either. In my defense, I was used to guys being horribly up front and unnecessarily close to me. I expected Cole to have a little more class considering his friends were all decent humans. I had been incredibly wrong.

“Where’s everybody else?” I asked as he finally got ahold of the cereal and hopped down from the counter. Though I’d never say anything to him, I did hate whoever made the decision to put the cereal in an overhead cabinet. I especially hated Trevor for pushing all the cereals to the back the day prior, when I had been trying to grab a box.

“Still in bed.” Cole set the box down on the counter. “Why are you up?”

“I don’t know.. let me think about it.” I placed my finger on my chin, feigning cluelessness before I walked over to the blinds and reached for the string hanging by them. One tug, and that beautiful sunlight came shining in.

Cole groaned and reached up to rub his eyes.

“Oh yeah! That’s why I’m up.” I pointed outside.

“Fuck you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” I walked past him toward the kitchen door, and swiped the box of cereal on the counter as well. “Have fun getting another box, Colton,” I teased, waving the cereal box in the air like a trophy as I left the kitchen.

“That’s not my name!”

It was not the first tense encounter we had, but I never assumed it to be Cole’s breaking point.

“You know what?” I flinched at the sound of his voice. He had never been a particularly deep speaker, but that didn’t change how intimidating it was to hear him so angry.

I clutched the cereal box in both hands and slowly turned just as I had stepped onto the first step of the staircase.

Cole stormed out of the kitchen and toward the steps.

“I’m so sick of your shit!”

I raised a brow at him.

“Relax, Cole.” Perhaps my tone didn’t have to be as nonchalant. I could understand how much worse my seeming carelessness made the situation the second I saw Cole clench his fists.

“No! I’m so sick of relaxing! I never did a single thing to you! I don’t even know how Quinn stands you!” I heard the sound of a door opening, and felt my cheeks flush from embarrassment. I dreaded seeing the face of whoever would come down the steps.

I wasn’t that unbearable, was I? I didn’t treat anybody else as harshly as I treated Cole. He simply rubbed me the wrong way. And it wasn’t like the insults and harsh words were one sided.

“I’d say I don’t know how Jack can tolerate you, but let’s be honest.. he’s about the nicest and most easygoing guy I know. You’re probably just somebody he keeps around out of pity.” I could see the flash of hurt in his features before anger quickly replaced it. Somehow, I felt powerful knowing I had struck a chord.

I wasn’t the type to enjoy the power of hurting people, but it did ease my mind to know I had one upped him in this battle of insults.

“What the hell is going on?” I finally heard the person at the top of the steps. Oddly enough, it was Trevor.

“Nothing, Trevor. Cole’s being a fucking asshole.” I threw my arms down to my sides and turned to storm up the steps. Trevor knew better than to stop me. He stepped out of my way when I made it to the top.

“Cole? Buddy?” Though Trevor spared me a nervous glance, I was not the one he spoke to. He swiftly disappeared down the stairs to greet his blonde friend.

I could hear movement in both Jack and Quinn’s rooms as I walked by, and I made quick work of getting into my room to change. I needed a day away from the boys and the noise. Cole and his stupid attitude. All the stress.

Quinn promised I’d have a fun vacation. It didn’t seem so fun now.

I shouldn’t have slammed the door, a fact made known to me the second I heard somebody knocking. I set the cereal box down on my nightstand. What was once a trophy was now a sign of shame. I pulled my earbuds out and unplugged them, throwing them on the bed. I walked over to my dresser to grab a new shirt and a pair of shorts.

I heard Jack yelling for Cole and Trevor. This had to be Luke or Quinn.

“Hey? Can I come in?” Quinn. His voice came just as I slipped my shirt on. I grabbed a pair of socks from my dresser and put those on as well before I grabbed the nearest pair of tennis shoes. I finished changing before I answered.

“That’s fine.” I mumbled. I walked over to my bed and sat down, slipping one shoe on as Quinn opened the door and stepped inside. He resealed my privacy by closing the door once again behind himself.

“Hey. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Quinn.” I put my next shoe on.

“Look, I know you and Cole haven’t gotten along well, but-“

“Uh uh. No. Don’t say a word.” I shook my head as I swiftly walked over to Quinn. I stoped in front of him, only to reach behind him to grab my bag, hanging from the door handle. A tiny black book bag that held my wallet and keys, and other essentials I needed for a day out.

“Come on,” Quinn pleaded as I pulled my door open, giving him no choice but to jump out of the way.

“I’m going out, Quinn. You can tell your ass of a friend to fuck off. And if I’m really that intolerable, I’ll pack my bags and leave at the end of the week.” Quinn looked both perplexed and concerned.

“What did he say to you?”

I wasn’t going to answer. I was already halfway down the hall when he finished speaking. By the time Quinn tried to catch me, I was out the front door. And I had no shame in slamming it.

Me? Insufferable?

I may have had a few loud moments here and there. I certainly wasn’t perfect. But what made me insufferable?

Cole was whole loads of unbearable.

With the way he spoke to me. Told me I was beautiful the first time we met. Made a joke about how we were set up. Made me feel stupid and tricked me into thinking he was interested. Just to make jokes about me days later -though I had insulted him first, and I had been the first offender-. Who did he think he was?

I drove blindly into chaotic traffic, and well until I found a mall to shop my blues away in. I had turned my phone off to ignore the messages and calls from any of the boys. I didn’t want to hear from them. I needed space.

Something only Quinn truly knew how to give.

The mall though. The mall knew exactly how much space I needed. Me, myself, and an armload of bags. A new pair of sunglasses, a cute crop top, a few different pairs of pants. I shopped until I felt like I’d settled enough to think of Cole or that lake house and not physically seethe. And then I took myself to dinner.

Only when I got sat down, did I turn my phone on. The texts from Jack ended after twenty. Quinn only sent ten. Trevor sent enough that I wasn’t going to count them. I was even surprised to see a text from a number I never put in my phone. A simple,

Hey it’s Cole. I’m really sorry

I wanted to correct his punctuation, but instead, I ignored all three of the boys.

I deleted the missed calls, opened contact names so texts wouldn’t be considered unread, and then I set my phone face down on the table.

When the waiter came, I ordered my comfort food, and I sat quietly listening to the music in the background for around an hour while I ate. Not rushed, uninterrupted, and quietly.

I let Cole’s apology sink in, but I didn’t want to respond. If he was sorry, that was fine, but if still didn’t explain anything.

It wasn’t until I payed and walked back out to my car, that I opened my phone and looked at the message again. I absentmindedly slipped my key into the ignition, then I noticed a bright red light from the corner of my eye. I looked toward my speedometer, and my heart sank.

If how much I spent shopping wasn’t a tell of my angry decision making, then electing to ignore the fact that I was low on gas, was a good enough example.

I wouldn’t make it home. I wouldn’t even make it to a close enough gas station.

I swallowed my pride, dialed my emergency contact, and waited.

“Hey! Are you okay? I couldn’t see your location, I got a little nervous.”

I sighed and glanced down at my steering wheel.

“I’m fine. I just- I went shopping and had an early dinner.”

“You could have told us.”

“I’m sorry, Q. Really.. I just- I needed some space.”

It was his turn to sigh.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.. no.”

“What’s up?”

“My gas tank is almost empty. I don’t know how I’m getting home.” I was greeted by silence on the other line, other than the muffled voices I could hear.

“You’ll have to- well… My brothers and Trev- we all went golfing. We’re like- two hours away..”

“Shit, Quinn. I don’t wanna sit in the dark parking lot that long.” I complained, though I knew it was not his fault.

“We can definitely come get you.. or you could call Cole.” I clenched my teeth. “He’s closer than we are.”

“Why didn’t he go with you guys?” I had to ask.

“He needed some space too. You guys both said some pretty mean shit to each other. Jack and Trev aren’t happy with either of you.”

Right.. because we had mutual friends. They were mad at me for being rude and mad at Cole for being rude. At least they weren’t picking sides.

“Can’t you guys just come get me?”

“Come on. If it’s really that bad I’ll pick you up, but we’re just finishing this match and we had our own plans.”

It was selfish of me to make the boys quit what they were doing because I couldn’t be mature. I gave in quickly.

“I’ll give Cole a call.”

“Good. Just try to keep things civil, eh?”

“I’ll try.”

I hopped from one call to the next. I hung up on Quinn, and pulled up my texts to find the number I didn’t have in my phone. I pressed call.

Cole didn’t pick up near as quickly as Quinn did, but he picked up nonetheless.

“Who’s this?”

“You’ll never guess,” I quipped. The words slipped before I could stop myself.

“Oh.”

I closed my eyes and took in a breath.

“If I share my location with you, will you come pick me up?” I opened my eyes and looked out into the parking lot. I made sure my doors were locked.

“Why?”

“My car’s almost out of gas. I can’t get home.”

I hated the silence I was once again greeted with. These boys were horrible at saying, ‘hold on,’ or ‘one moment.’

“I’ll be there.” I heard a jingle of keys and I felt my hopes lift.

“Oh thank you so much C-“ I paused. Now the silence was awkward. Not contemplating. Awkward.

“No problem.”

I would be the first to admit, I hung up after he spoke, with the speed of a cheetah. I set my phone down and turned my car off to save what little fuel it did have. Within the silence and the darkness, I eyed my surroundings.

My eyes skimmed over a man standing in the lot by the mall entrance. I thought nothing of him, until my mind wandered. I checked to make sure my windows were all the way up, and that my doors were locked once again.

He could be innocently waiting for someone. A wife or child, lover or sibling. Or he could be up to something else. One could never be too sure.

I waited anxiously, almost two hours for Cole. My car got cold quickly, and I found myself rubbing my arms to warm up just as his headlights flashed in my rear view mirror. I had to stop myself from thanking God for Cole Caufield.

He quickly got out of his car, dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt like it wasn’t chilly outside. I unlocked the car doors and swiftly stepped out. He met me as we approached each other around the hood of my car.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I nodded.

“Do you need anything out of your car?”

“All of my bags are in the trunk. I can get them.” I shivered and waved a hand at him. I turned and made my way around to my trunk, only to realize Cole followed me when I opened it and saw his hands reaching for my bags. I glanced at him, but he didn’t seem to notice. Too focused on the task at hand.

“Can you pop my trunk?” He asked, and I swiftly nodded. I walked over to his car, next to my own, and opened his trunk. He set my bags down with ease, raising a brow only when he heard the clinking of bottles.

We made eye contact.

“I like wine.. I’m not drinking piss all the time.” I spoke as if it were obvious. I didn’t mind beer, but I had things I liked better.

Cole cracked a smile, and I grew conflicted with my own emotions.

I helped him move the last of my bags into his car before he closed my trunk.

“Anything else?” I shook my head, a shiver wracked my body. Cole slipped past me, walking between our cars and opening his back seat door. He pulled a sweatshirt out and handed it over to me. It was one of mine.

“I grabbed it. I figured you might be cold.” He held the sweatshirt out, and I hate to say that I took note of the way our fingers brushed when I took it from him.

“Thanks, Cole.” I whispered as I looked down at the shirt. I slowly pulled it on.

“Why don’t you get in? I bet you wanna be back at the house.”

That I did.

Cole and I didn’t exchange much more after that. The drive wasn’t as tense as I expected it to be, but it also wasn’t calm. In the end, I curled up in his passenger seat and dozed off well until we were back at the lake house.

I eventually woke up to a nudge on my shoulder and the feeling of cold air kissing my lips. I licked them out of impulse, my eyes fluttering open slowly.

I was met by the sight of an Angel, his halo illuminated by the street light above.

I had to remind myself it was Cole I was looking at. Not a Saint.

“You coming inside?” He teased with a smirk. A pinch of my resentment for him returned seeing that snarky smile.

I swiftly climbed out of the car, and stretched as I approached the lake house entrance. Cole shut my door for me, seeing as I didn’t give him much of an option.

“Did you want your stuff?” He called to me. I shook my head.

“Just leave it in the car. I’m exhausted. I’ll get it in the morning.”

Cole joined me by the front door in record time. He unlocked it, and I stepped inside only to slink off into the kitchen. I was starving. I heard the door shut and lock. I assumed that was the end of our interaction. Until I heard the distinct sound of Cole’s feather light steps enter the kitchen. I glanced back at him, having just pulled a pizza pan out of one of the cupboards.

We eyed each other in silence. He held an unreadable expression.

“Did you want pizza too?” I asked. Confused.

“No.”

“Then, what?” I asked, seeing as he was staring at me for longer than I appreciated.

Cole’s face scrunched up into a look of uncertainty and discomfort.

He looked away, then back at me. Then away again. “I didn’t mean to ever make you uncomfortable. Or mad.. or whatever I did to make you so upset with me.”

I was shocked. I looked down at the pizza pan as I set it on the counter. My fingers grazed over the lip of the pan.

“What’s done is done.” I shrugged.

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have said all those mean things. You’re not intolerable.”

“Cole-“

“Quinn just..”

I immediately looked back up at him. What did Quinn have to do with this? We made eye contact and I tilted my head as a signal for him to go on.

“He told me you were really pretty, and that we had a lot in common. And then when I saw you- I got nervous. The cocky thing always seems to work for Jack.” I watched him smile sadly before he shook his head. I didn’t understand why somebody as handsome as Cole felt he needed to use someone else’s method to get girls.

“Well there’s a reason I’m not with Jack.” I leaned forward. I never assumed it was a misunderstanding between us. I assumed Cole was an ass and that was that.

“I know.” The way his voice softened worried me. Cole shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. I didn’t peg him as the emotional type.

“I guess I’m sorry too. I didn’t know Quinn said anything to you. He’s mentikned you, but not like.. in a suggestion that we might like each other.”

Cole nodded.

“He did mention to me.. the sweet, and funny, and weird version of you though. That’s not got his head up his own ass every day.” I watched the blonde shift his weight before he walked further into the kitchen to sit on one of the stools at the island.

“I don’t much care for the Cole who’s rude and cranky every day. But the Cole who picked me up tonight was really sweet.” I pursed my lips, “and thoughtful.”

I didn’t like him before, but all of our issues had been over nothing. A simple miss-understanding. When one stripped away all of the insults and fights we threw at one another, they could assume there was a chance for us.

“Could we just.. maybe forget about all that stuff?” Cole asked. I could tell he was embarrassed. I should have been too, but for some reason, it was much easier to feel bad when we were both in the wrong.

“As long as we can agree not to have these shitty explosive fights any more.” I reasoned.

“I think we can manage that.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” I leaned forward against the counter and flashed Cole a smile.

“And maybe we could go out and get to know each other tomorrow night?”

I was caught off guard by his suggestion, but I nodded nonetheless.

“I don’t mind the sound of that.”

After taking away every hateful interaction we had, I decided that all I knew of Cole was his name, his profession, and how handsome he was. I knew nothing of him, and if Quinn believed we’d make a good pair, then I’d just have to give it a try.

Cautiously, of course.

I made a small pizza, and the two of us ended up on the couch by the end of the night, in a conversation about animal videos with two empty plates stacked on the coffee table. We eventually moved to the middle of the couch, pressed into one another’s sides, holding our phones out.

We must have gone through a million videos before I set my phone aside to only look at Cole’s.

I felt the weight of Cole’s arm find its way around my shoulder. It was comforting in a way I never expected Cole’s touch to be.

I fell asleep not long after, dozing off as our conversations ceased and silence filled the air. Cole’s occasional giggle would startle me awake, until I reached the point of no return, breathing softly into his shoulder and falling unconscious.

——————

“Five bucks says they’ve killed each other.” Trevor piped up from behind Jack and Quinn, laughing softly.

“I’d hope they haven’t. I’d feel horrible. It’s my fault this happened anyway.” Quinn muttered as he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

“They’re probably in their rooms. Stop freaking out.” Jack complained softly to his older brother as the three walked inside. The soft glow from the living room lamp seeped into the hall. All three kicked their shoes off and snuck into the living room doorway to see who was inside.

“Aw shit.” Trevor mumbled. “There goes my five bucks.”

“This is all it took?” Quinn muttered, incredulous.

“They look comfortable.” Jack folded his arms across his chest.

They eyed Cole, sleeping soundly on the couch with an arm around the girl he’d been feuding with for weeks. Both sound asleep. Both content with one another. At long last.

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