#attempts to write

[cityelf]

this poem is about being nonbinary.

[artsymeeshee]

The magic 8-ball

[madbard]

[loveless-arobee]

Its really infuriating how common it is to overstep, ignore and ridicule the boundaries of people who want non-romantic sex / sexual relationships. Yes, including if they’re alloromantic.

It doesn’t matter how open you are about your boundaries around romance and love; how often you repeat to whoever you fuck that you don’t want romance, that you won’t fall for them, etc., once they fall in love with you, you are the bad guy for not loving them back, for not wanting a romantic relationship, for not ~getting over your fear of commitment~

And when you point out how fucked up that is to people who’ll call themselves allies to aromantic people, often they’ll respond "well, they never said they were aromantic!" Cause like. Hot take i guess but alloromantic people don’t deserve to be forced into romantic relationships, either. If the only way you can accept someone not wanting a romantic relationship is if they’re aromantic, know they’re aromantic, and will out themself to you unprompted, you don’t actually accept that decision, like, at all. Because that person, yknow, could very well be aromantic and just they haven’t told anyone because they don’t want to, because it wouldn’t be safe, or even just because they don’t fucking know because aromanticism is still a very unknown thing.

And even if they’re not, this type of treatment is still incredibly fucked up in exactly the same way! Because guess what, alloromantic people can be romance repulsed, too! And it’s not something that needs to be fixed for them, either!!

It shouldn’t be so fucking normal for people to publicly boast about how they "tricked" or pressured or just straight-up forced their sexual partners into a romantic relationship and be celebrated for it as if that shit was even remotely funny. It’s disgusting.

[myuuchii]

Love's Final Frontier (Chief Engineer O'Bailey/Head Botanist Winona) by RULERZREACHF4N

[robbysreaders]

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader  word count: 2k notes: Part 2 of ex!reader and babydaddy!jack (part 1 here)

It’s a Thursday night, and the hospital is slammed. Jack moves with purpose, flipping through a chart as he tugs off his gloves.

“I shouldn’t have planned this on a work night,” he mutters under his breath.

“Ooooh,” Dana croons behind him. “What are you planning?”

“None of your damn business,” he replies, glancing at the clock. “But I’m running late.”

Robby rounds the corner, already grinning. “Jack, get the hell out of here. I’m not getting blamed for you being late.”

Dana’s eyes narrow. “Wait. Robby knows?”

“He’s got a hot date with his baby mama,” Robby sings.

Dana’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s a new development.”

Jack points a finger at her. “That judgy tone is exactly why I don’t tell you anything.”

He makes it home, showers, changes. Somehow gets to your place in record time.

You expected him to be late — habit. But something about how hard he’s clearly tried… reminds you. He wants to get it right this time.

You open the door.

He’s standing there in a dark button-down and jeans, a single tulip in hand. His hair’s still damp. He gives you the full once-over — slow, reverent — before trying to mask it with a crooked smile.

“Wow,” he murmurs. “You look… unfair.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You gonna stand there all night, or let me lock the door?”

He thrusts the tulip forward like he just remembered it. “For you. I, uh, have the rest at home… if you want them later.”

You smile, tuck the tulip into your bag, and follow him out.

The restaurant is all string lights and exposed brick — cozy, familiar. The waiter asks what kind of day you’ve had before recommending wine.

Jack orders after confirming your favorites — quiet, subtle. But he remembers.

“You nervous?” you ask, swirling your glass.

“A little,” he admits. “Feels like a first date. But also not. Feels like something we should’ve done a long time ago.”

“You mean back when we were living on boxed mac and cheese and resenting each other’s dishes in the sink?”

He chuckles. “Definitely not then.”

You watch him. Still Jack — dry, steady — but there’s something new softening him. Less guarded. More here.

Midway through dinner, you’re laughing about Beau’s vacuum obsession (“the Dyson phase,” Jack calls it), when he goes quiet.

“You know what I keep thinking about?” he says, thumb circling his glass.

“What?”

“That night before we split. You were packing for your parents’ place and I kept coming into the room for no reason. You finally said, ‘Jack, just say what you want to say.’”

You nod. You remember.

“I didn’t say it then. But I will now. I wanted you to stay. I just didn’t know how to ask without sounding selfish.”

Your heart tugs. You reach across the table, cover his hand. “You’ve gotten better at asking.”

He squeezes back. “Still learning.”

After dinner, you don’t go home right away. You wander the neighborhood, eventually winding up at the small park you take Beau to. The bench under the tree. The same bench where, once upon a time, everything started.

You pause. “Jack Abbot. We are not where I think we are, are we?”

He shrugs, smirk tugging at his lips. “Thought I’d ease you back in. Familiar territory.”

You lean in first this time. The kiss is slow, deep, and familiar — but not stuck in the past. There's something new now. Steady. Chosen.

He pulls back, breathless. “You still do that thing with your tongue. Drives me insane.”

You grin. “I know.”

Silence settles, warm and buzzing. Like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you.

“So,” Jack says. “How do we feel about another date?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Whether I get to make out with you after the next one too.”

He leans in, barely an inch from your mouth. “Oh, I think we can arrange that.”

You laugh — real and bubbling. Something you haven’t heard from yourself in a long time.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I missed this.”

You nod. “Me too.”

But after a beat, something shifts. You glance down. “Why now?”

He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”

“Part of me still wonders why it took this long.”

Jack pauses. Not defensive. Just thoughtful.

“Because I didn’t trust myself. With you. With the whole thing. I didn’t think I could want something this badly and not wreck it. I had to be sure I could be better — for you, for Beau. For me.”

You exhale. “I didn’t need perfect.”

“I know that now,” he says softly. “But I had to unlearn a lot of things I didn’t even know I was carrying.”

You glance back up. “I’m still scared.”

Jack threads his fingers through yours. “Me too.”

“What if we hurt each other again?”

“We will,” he says. “But I’m not walking away this time just because something feels heavy. And I’m not letting you carry it alone.”

He walks you home, hands laced. At your door, he lingers.

“I’m not coming in,” he says, voice rough. “But I want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want to do this right. Not fast. Not because I can’t stand being apart — though I can’t — but because I want it to last.”

You kiss him — soft, slow, steady.

When you pull back, you whisper, “Okay. Go home.”

He nods. “Second date?”

“Next week.”

He kisses your knuckles, walks away. Turns back at the end of the block to wave like it’s something he’s allowed to do again.

And for the first time in years, you lock the door feeling full — not with ache, not with hope. Just full.

–

A few days later, the call from school comes mid-meeting.

Beau’s sick. Fever. Glassy-eyed. Curled up in the nurse’s office with his backpack clutched to his chest.

You’re already halfway to your car when you text Jack:

you: just got a call from school. beau’s sick. i’m going to get him now. jack: shit. can i call you in 5? you: kinda swamped but yeah.

He calls in three.

“Hey,” he says, already out of breath. You can hear the hum of the hospital behind him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just scrambling. I’ve got back-to-back meetings and now—”

“I’ll handle it,” he cuts in. “I can be at your place in an hour. I’ll rearrange some stuff.”

“You’re on days now—are you sure?”

“It’s fine,” he says, too quickly. “I got it.”

You pause. Something in his voice makes your stomach twist. But you let him go.

An hour and a half later, Beau’s napping on the couch under two blankets. You’re at the kitchen table, trying to focus on your laptop. He’s flushed, quiet, lightly snoring.

Jack knocks once, then pushes the door open. Still in scrubs. He sets a pharmacy bag on the counter.

“Tylenol, apple juice, saltines.”

“Thanks,” you say softly.

He nods, drops into the chair across from you, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He looks tense. Coiled. Like he hasn’t really stopped moving.

“I didn’t think they’d let you leave,” you say.

“I told them it was an emergency. Robby gets it. I owe him now.”

“Jack—”

“It was an emergency,” he snaps. “He’s my kid.”

“I know. But you didn’t have to blow up your whole day to prove that.”

He exhales hard, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m trying to show up. That’s what you said you needed. That’s what I said I’d do.”

You pause. “I don’t need you to self-destruct to prove you care. That’s not showing up — that’s burning out.”

His jaw clenches. Then something in him falters. Just slightly.

“I panicked,” he admits. “I heard ‘sick’ and I thought—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Just shakes his head.

You reach across the table and take his hand. “I did too.”

A few hours later and things seem stable. Beau’s fever is stubborn but manageable, hovering near 101. You’re rotating fluids, letting him nap between cartoons. Jack’s perched at the edge of the couch, monitoring him like he’s waiting for a second shoe to drop.

“Mind hanging around?” you ask. “I’ve got one last call and then I can take over.”

“Don’t mind at all,” he murmurs. “We can combine forces. Date night with our sick kid — romance is alive and well.”

It’s just past 8 p.m. when things go sideways.

Beau stirs on the couch, body twitching, limbs stiffening in an unnatural rhythm.

“Shit—make sure he doesn’t fall.”

“Jack,” you say, panic rising, “what’s happening?”

“Febrile seizure,” he says, already shifting to the floor beside Beau, bracing his body as a barrier. “He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.”

It lasts less than thirty seconds. It feels like a lifetime.

As soon as it passes, Jack scoops him up.

“We’re driving. Faster than an ambulance.”

You’re in the back seat, one hand on Beau’s knee, the other gripping the car door.

“Jack, I’m scared. Is he going to be okay?”

Beau’s voice is faint. “Mommy, I don’t feel good.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you whisper. “We’re going to see Daddy’s doctor friends.”

Jack’s on the phone with Shen.

“Headed in now. Just had a febrile seizure. He’s alert but out of it. Temp was 101.3 about 20 minutes ago. Not responding to acetaminophen. Gave 7.5 mL six hours ago, again an hour ago. Pulse ox was 97. Resps were 32 last time I checked. ETA four minutes.”

“Mommy, I’m tired.”

“Keep him awake.”

“I’m trying.” You cup his face. “Hey baby, should we sing your song?”

You’re halfway through the third round of You’ve Got a Friend in Me when the hospital comes into view.

Shen and a nurse are waiting at the curb. They get Beau on a gurney, Jack walking alongside, rattling off the last twelve hours like a script he’s memorized.

“Hey buddy,” Shen says gently. “Heard you’re not feeling too great. We’re gonna run some tests, get you patched up. Sound okay?”

“‘kay,” Beau croaks. “Am I gonna miss my baseball game?”

Jack smiles, brushing hair off his forehead. “Probably. But when you’re better, we’ll go to a Pirates game. Deal?”

“Deal.”

You’re standing in the corner of the exam room, arms wrapped tight around yourself, blinking hard against the overhead lights.

Jack joins you. Wraps an arm around your shoulder. Pulls you in. And that’s when you finally break.

“Shhh,” he whispers, stroking your back. “He’s okay. We’re okay.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I couldn’t have done this alone. I froze. I failed.”

“You didn’t fail. You leaned on me.” His voice is low, steady. “We’re a team.”

The tests come back clean. No complications. The fever finally breaks.

By the time you’re discharged, Beau’s asleep in your arms.

Jack stops at the central desk to grab papers. Shen pats him on the shoulder.

“Sorry if I overreacted,” Jack says, dragging a hand down his face. “I didn’t know how different it’d feel when it’s your own kid. He’s just so little.”

“You did the right thing,” Shen says. “Go get your family home. Get some rest.”

��

Jack parks in your driveway. The engine clicks off. You’re still half-listening to Beau’s sleepy breathing in the back seat when Jack says, quiet:

“Can I stay over?” You glance at him. “Just to make sure he’s okay tonight.”

You nod. “Of course.”

Back inside, you toe off your shoes, lay Beau gently in the center of your bed. He curls instinctively toward your pillow.

You’re brushing your teeth when Jack appears in the doorway holding two glasses of water.

“Here,” he says. “Uh… where would I find extra bedding? I’ll set up the couch.”

You look at him. Tired. Beautiful. Still trying.

“Don’t be weird,” you say softly. “Bed’s always been big enough for the three of us.”

He smiles. Follows you into the room without another word and for the second time this week, you fall asleep feeling full. But this time, you feel a little less afraid.

[lanialania00]

don’t feel bad Ghost

[singingrottenbones]

Kind of going insane about the different choices of bite masks for Will and Hannibal.

Transparent for Will vs. white for Hannibal.

At this point of the show, Will is in prison, but he is also needed at a crime scene because of his special autism powers.

His transparent mask is an interesting choice for that. People think that they have discovered his true nature. That he's a killer, a cannibal. That all along, he has been lying to everyone about who he truly is.

However, a transparent mask allows people to still see him and his facial expressions. Yes, he is being held back, but at the same time, he isn't hidden. It's all out there for anyone who has eyes and doesn't jump to a conclusion because it's the most convenient and easy option.

Those who choose to look, to really see him, can still do so, even when he's muzzled. In fact, Jack Crawford's first order of business at the crime scene is to take Will's mask off.

For Will, his mask doesn't take away from his essence, his character.

Now Hannibal gets a white mask.

Let's ignore the obvious associations of "clean", "sterile", "medical", and "Doctor". Instead, let's focus more on what the mask literally does.

Hannibal is at BSHCI on an insanity plea. At this point, people know who, or rather what he is. A killer. A murderer. A man who quite literally eats people. The metaphorical mask is off.

But at the same time, that is also what he is being reduced to. Hannibal the Cannibal.

This is where the mask comes into play. It hides his face. You can't see his facial expression. It's a shield, but it's a shield in both ways. It protects the world from Hannibal, but it also protects Hannibal from the world.

Even if you wanted to look, you can't. Everyone is locked out.

Everyone except for one person.

The one person in front of whom Hannibal chooses to take off his mask.

Will Graham.

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee who save themselves instead of waiting for rescue. Whumpee who waits at home for caretaker to find because they didn't know where else to go or who to trust.

Caretaker, who just came home after a hopeless day of no leads for whumpee's disappearance to find them passed out on their couch.

[artsymeeshee]

Another aroace Ford idea that came up. I just really like the idea of Ford going to Mabel for these types of things :’)

[toughbunnyforever]

maybe try writing him a note next time idk

[chatonfils]

Starting off by saying I hate “mom Danny” bc it tends to be p transphobic and misgendering, so if anyone adds it to my post I’m blocking them.

Tim making his Kon clone baby, but the cloning chamber isn’t stable enough for the fetus. He’s desperately trying anything that he think might work, when he comes across Phantom. Phantom who has experience with stabilizing clones.

Danny had heard whispers through the grapevine (Ellie who’d joined the Teen Titans as Phantasm) that there was someone attempting to make clones. He’d only meant to snoop and see if it was a Vlad situation. If any clones had been made and needed liberating. What he found was a newly minted Red Robin crying over a red blinking message on a cloning chamber. He warbled a quiet “please, Kon, I don’t want to live without you.”

Danny quickly realizing this wasn’t an attempt to replace and destroy, but actually someone grieving, in probably an unhealthy way, but who was Danny to judge, he’d once replaced Sam and Tucker with robots for less. So he decided to help Red Robin out. Sure, he hadn’t dealt with kryptonian dna before, but he was at least 89% sure halfa dna was way more complicated. And Red Robin had already figured out ways around the dna shenanigans, it was just the stability that wasn’t going well. Honestly, he didn’t think it would be as easy as an ecto dejecto like it had been for Ellie. But his parents had a lot of inventions that they’d started making to help out ghosts, once they’d realized Danny was Phantom. Maybe telling Red Robin about ghost IVF wasn’t his most thought through plan.

“I think what might help is an incubator.” Phantom had suggested.

Tim could only gesture at the cloning chambers that had failed him thus far. They were essentially huge incubators.

Phantom awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I meant, like, a living incubator. Like a surrogate.”

“Where am I going to find someone that I not only trust to carry the baby, but also would volunteer?” Tim raised an eyebrow at him. Hell, had Tim had the equipment to do so, he would have carried the baby, everything else be damned. He just didn’t want to be alone anymore.

Phantom blushed green and looked away. “It might take a little tinkering with the embryos to work with the physiology, but…. I could carry the baby for you. I mean, I’m trans, and even if I wasn’t, ghosts are kind of malleable in a reproductive sense. And there are options for IVF in ghost science. And like, my own clone is like my little sister. I’m also a protection spirit, so I would protect the baby with my entire afterlife. And I’m kind of rambling so you should say something before I embarrass myself.”

“You would be willing to carry a baby for me?” Tim was shell shocked by the offer.

“I mean, yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not cloning him for a malicious reason. You’re just trying to bring back a piece of your friend because you love and miss him. Dedication that strong for someone who has left the living plain, is admirable. You realized early on that you wouldn’t be able to increase the speed in which the clone grew. You’ve been trying despite knowing that this clone will be a baby that’s going to be your child, and not just the friend you lost. And I wouldn’t mind giving up my body for a little bit so you can make your family.”

Tim certainly hadn’t meant to surge forward and kiss Phantom. “Thank you.” Tim pulled Phantom into a fierce hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

It took about a month for them to work out the kinks of making the baby safe for Danny’s body. In this time, Danny showing Red Robin his human form, and Tim revealing his own identity. It felt kind of wrong to keep his name from someone he intended to get pregnant with his child. Tim and Danny got close as they worked together on the baby. And there may have been a few more kisses shared between them. In the end, the baby ended up spliced with mostly Kon’s dna, some of Tim’s (to stabilize the kryptonian dna), and some of Danny’s (to keep the baby safe in the womb).

Once Danny was well and truly pregnant, he encouraged Tim to find Bruce. “I’ll keep the baby safe. You find your dad. If you need me for anything, I’m only a call away.” Tim hadn’t forgotten about Bruce, he’d just never thought it would take so long to set up cloning Kon. So much of his hurt and loneliness had fallen away in Danny’s presence, and Danny had let him hyper focus on making their baby.

“Probably terrible timing, but I’ve got to ask,” Tim swallowed nervously. “Be my boyfriend?”

Danny’s lopsided smile, thawed Tim’s nerves. “I think I could work with that. I hope you don’t mind kids though, I’m kind of pregnant.”

Tim huffed a laugh. “I’ll keep in touch while I’m away. Please keep me updated on the baby.”

Danny pulled him into a proper kiss, “I will.”

I’m mostly imagining Tim getting bump update photos and falling in love with his increasingly pregnant boyfriend, while he finds Bruce.

I’m also imagining after Bruce is back, Tim being like, “anyways gtg, my boyfriend is in his third trimester and I don’t want to miss the birth of our baby.” And peacing out before any bats could react, let alone stop him.

And also maybe when Kon comes back, there’s maybe a poly relationship started.

Also thinking about Tim getting Danny pregnant without the science.

Danny gets Dad, Tim gets Papa, and if Kon joins, he gets Poppy.

[captivating-flavors]

away | sylus

pairing: sylus x non mc reader

prompt: -

summary: the closure you both needed after the break. loosely a part two of enough

words: 1,605

warning(s): angst but ended on a happy note sort of, mentions of death, mentions of an unhealthy relationship

a/n: i was in the mood to finish something angsty again soooo.... enjoy?? (anyways some fluffy-ish sylus and caleb might be next) reblogs, comments and feedbacks are much appreciated <3

masterlist

Sylus sat on one of the booths at the far end of the café, occasionally glancing at his watch. He opened his message thread with you, where the last message had been the one he sent to you a week ago asking you to meet him here. You never responded, despite the small read under his speech bubble.

It had been nearly a year since he last saw you. That night being the last. The night of the anniversary of her death. It would be a lie to say that he did not drink himself to a stupor, because it was what he usually did. You had confiscated his keys to prevent him from going to her grave in his drunken state and he lashed out.

He barely remembered how it all started, just bits and pieces. What he remembered clearly was that he sobered up by a little midway through the argument and used the Aether Core in his eye to look into what it was you wanted from him for the first time.

Love.

He knew, somewhat. He’d heard you say it multiple times, thinking he was already asleep. But he couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

You loved him? Why? What was it that he had ever done to you to warrant such profound feelings from you? Surely, he doesn’t deserve it. Least of all from you. The one person he took for granted at every turn but always decided to stay with him time and time again, despite everything. He knew that how he treated you wasn’t ideal and was far from what you deserved but he thought that if he kept treating you the way he did, you would leave of your own accord.

“Love? Don’t be ridiculous. You knew from the start you’re never going to get that from me.”

He could see your expression slowly falling onto one of hurt as you took his hand to drive him away from the door and to his room, “I know, Sylus. Let’s get you into your room, okay?”

“You knew from the start that I was only keeping you around because you reminded me of her.”

“I know.” You let a single teardrop fall out of the pool welled up on your eyes.

“No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like I hurt you by breaking your heart when you know what you signed up for right from the start.”

“I know.” You said as you tugged him by the arm to his room and got him onto his bed.

He sat up against his headboard as you went to grab him a glass of water before sitting on the edge of the bed, “The answer is: It will never be.”

You looked at him, confused, “What?”

“What you said. When you thought I was asleep. You wished how your love was enough to help me. The answer is: It will never be.”

“I know. But would that be enough for you to want to try? For me?”

“No.”

You exhaled before softly saying, “I understand that you love her. But she’s dead, Sylus. Until when are you going to keep clinging on to her memory?”

“You don’t get to say that. You knew how much I love her.”

“That, I do.” You said, your words had a tinge of sadness to it.

“Then why are you asking it of me?”

“Because I thought, maybe one day you’d be willing to love me too.” You said as you stood up to leave the room.

He let out a small scoff, “Well, you thought wrong.”

“Good night, Sylus.” You said before closing the door behind you with a soft click.

Little did he know, those would be the last thing you said before you packed your bags and left the Onichynus Base that night. He understood why you left. There was no doubt his words had hurt you, after all that was why he’d said them in the first place. Whilst some of him wanted to push you away because you deserved better, another selfish part that wanted to keep you by his side hated that that was how things ended between the two of you.

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked up for the umpteenth time as the bell above the door chimed, but still no sign of you. Sylus became more convinced that you weren’t going to show up but decided to wait for another half an hour before leaving.

Another ten minutes passed as he stared at the same message thread. He contemplated on sending you another message, but he didn’t want to seem pushy.

“Hey.”

He looked up at the sound of your voice, visibly surprised before letting out a greeting as well, “Y/N, Hi.”

You took off your coat and draped it over the back of the chair before taking a seat, “You look well.” He added and he meant it. You looked happier.

“You do, too.” You said with a small smile.

“I’m sorry I reached out to you out of the blue like this. I had to… uh… get my shit together first before reaching out to you again.”

“It’s fine. I knew we were bound to have this conversation sooner or later.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m just going to cut to the chase. I’m sorry for everything. I was not in my right mind, not that it excuses anything. But I’m sorry about what I said. I’m sorry for how I treated you.” He said, sincerity etched to his voice as his head hung low.

You reached out and placed your hand on top of his clasped ones, “I forgive you, Sylus.”

“No, you shouldn’t. You should hate me.”

“But I don’t. And honestly, it’s fine. It’s all in the past.” You gave him a small smile.

“No, it’s not. The way I treated you… I took you for granted at every turn and was ungrateful for everything you did to and for me. You don’t deserve that.”

“Really. It’s fine. I won’t lie to you and say that it didn’t hurt me because it did, but like I said, it’s all in the past. I forgive you.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I’d much prefer it if you’d be angry at me.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

You inhaled, “Because I still love you.”

“What…?”

“As it turns out, leaving doesn’t get rid of my feelings that easily.” You let out a small chuckle before adding, “You heard me. I still love you, Sylus. And that is why I have chosen to forgive you.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but you continued, “That is also why I decided to let you go. I love you but I’m smart enough to know that what we have wasn’t sustainable nor was it healthy, and that what you had with her was… magic and nothing that comes after will ever compare to that great first love you had. I know I deserved better and so did you, so I’m also sorry for that.”

“No, you have nothing to apologize for, Y/N.”

“I do. You deserve more than someone who begs and forces you to love them back when you weren’t ready and willing to do so.” You squeezed his hands, reaffirming your words.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for not loving me back. Just promise me that you’ll take better care of yourself from now on.”

The two of you stayed in silent for several minutes, still holding each other’s gazes before he decided to break the silence, “So, are you ever coming back to the N109 Zone?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, probably not. I decided to leave that life behind the day I moved here.”

“The twins missed you.” I missed you, but he opted to leave the last part out.

“I’ll come visit, some time.”

“That’s good to hear, I–” You saw the excitement beam in his eyes, and it gutted you to have to crush it.

“But I think we shouldn’t see or talk to each other anymore. That was what I came here to say.”

“What…?” He blinked, surprised.

“As much as I’d love be friends with you again, I don’t think it’ll be good for the two of us. I’ll subconsciously keep hanging onto the what-ifs and I’ll always remind you of her.”

“So, are we just never going to see each other ever again? Because I hate thought of that.”

“Maybe we can rekindle our friendship sometime in the future, but not now. A year has passed, but everything still feels fresh.”

He exhaled, “If that is what you want, I’ll respect your wishes.”

“Thank you, Sylus. I should probably go. My boyfriend is waiting for me outside.” You stood and grabbed your coat, ready to leave. You contemplated for a bit before adding, “But if you want someone to accompany you to visit her grave, I’ll be one call away. I’ll be sure to get her favorite daisies from that flower shop she loved.”

“Alright. I’ll see you when I see you, I suppose.”

“You, too. Take care of yourself, Sylus.”

As Sylus looked at your retreating form, he couldn’t help the pang in his chest. The pang intensified when he saw you through the glass windows of the café as you stood on your tippy toes to give your boyfriend a kiss. Maybe this was for the best, after all you were visibly happier and for the most part you’ve moved on from everything that happened between the two of you. Maybe you’ll always be the one who got away.

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taglist: @mayooness

[cracklewink]

Harmony Syndrome Part 5/5

The last chapter of my mlp infection AU! Thank you to everyone who followed along. Some final thoughts on my twitter @cracklewink if anyone's interested : )

[mischievous-thunder]

Give your kidnapper a minute, Logan. He'll be 💯🔥💯🔥 again in a minute!

[robbysreaders]

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader  word count: 2.4k notes: part 3 of ex!reader and babydaddy!jack WAYYYYY fluffier than the prequel — a gift to me and all of you. Also I think this might be the last part??? unless any of you have questions or one shots you want to hear about these two 🥹

You’re late to Beau’s baseball game. Not wildly—just enough that your pulse is up, your hair’s a mess, and you feel that twist in your chest that only happens when Jack gets there first.

You scan the bleachers, hand shielding your eyes. He’s easy to spot. Legs stretched out, ball cap pulled low, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows. One arm draped across the bench beside him, claiming space.

Of course he saved you a spot.

“Christ,” you mutter, flopping into the seat beside him. “It’s mid-April. Why is it still so cold?”

Without missing a beat, Jack tilts his head toward the parking lot but reaches down at his feet. “There’s a coat in the car, but I’ve got a blanket here.”

He pulls out a slightly-rumpled camping blanket and offers it without looking—like this is just what you do now. Like he’s still the guy who knows when you’re cold before you say it.

You shake your head, tugging the sweatshirt you’ve been holding over your head.

“I’m good. Just needed this.”

Jack turns. Looks. And comically blinks.

It’s the team hoodie. The one the team mom handed out last week. Big enough to swallow you whole. Team logo on the chest. But it’s the back that gets him—ABBOT in bold block letters, above Beau’s number: 4.

You pretend not to notice how he’s staring. Pretend not to feel the way your stomach flips when his mouth opens, then closes, then opens again.

“God,” he finally breathes. “You could’ve warned a guy.”

You smirk, tugging the sleeves down over your hands. “What, and ruin the surprise?”

“You’re trying to kill me,” he mutters, low and hoarse. “You realize that, right?”

“It’s not like I put your name on it for you, Jack. There’s no player with my last name. I’m supporting our kid.”

His eyes drag down your body again—slower this time. Less surprised. More… appreciative.

“Right,” he says, blinking slow. “Supporting Beau. Totally normal. Not suggestive at all.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“You’re being dangerous.”

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are warm. It’s a losing game—trying not to feel everything you’re feeling. Want. Nostalgia. The sharp edges of maybe.

“He’s almost up to bat.”

Jack lifts his phone like he’s just remembered he has it. “Gotta document the moment. Hold still.”

You hear the shutter click.

“Send that to Robby and I’m never wearing it again.”

He grins as he taps the screen. “Too late. It’s already in the group chat. Dana’s gonna combust.”

You groan, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees. “You’re such a menace.”

But you feel his gaze still on you. Heavy. Intent. Like he’s remembering the nights he used to get to see you in nothing but one of his sweatshirts—and wondering if this counts.

He nudges your knee with his. “You know, it’s not too late to get one with your last name on the back.”

You glance sideways.

“I mean it.” His voice softens. The grin tugs at his mouth, but his eyes are steady. “You wear my name like that again, I might get ideas.”

Your breath catches—just for a second.

You look away, toward the field, voice deliberately casual. “Let’s just focus on the game, Romeo.”

But he leans in, not quite touching, his breath warm against your ear.

“Sure,” he murmurs. “For now.”

And when Beau steps up to the plate, Jack sits back with one arm stretched casually across the bench behind you, fingertips grazing the letters printed across your back.

–

The next weekend is Beau’s half-birthday—his idea, obviously—and while you and Jack didn’t plan a full-blown party, somehow it’s turned into one.

Robby’s manning the grill like he’s auditioning for Food Network.. A couple of interns are tossing a ball with Beau and his friends on the lawn. You’re watching from the shade with a drink in hand.

Jack sits beside you, presses a kiss to your temple like it’s second nature now. And it kind of is.

“You need anything?” he asks.

You hum a soft no, your shoulder brushing his.

Across the yard, Dana lowers her sunglasses and stares you down as she approaches.

“Well, well, well.” Her grin is pure mischief. “Look at you two. Domestic as hell.”

“You say that like it’s a threat,” Jack mutters, sliding his arm around your waist.

Dana smirks. “No, I say that like I’m preparing a toast for the wedding.”

You roll your eyes.

“Not yet,” Robby calls from the grill. “But someone got tagged in a very cozy park bench photo last week.”

Jack winces. “Jesus.”

“It’s okay,” you say, leaning into him. “People were always going to talk. At least now it’s about something we’re proud of.”

He glances at you—really looks—and nods once.

Just then, one of the neighborhood moms hustles over, diaper bag slung low. “Do you mind watching the baby for a few? Would love to pee in peace for the first time in years.”

“Been there,” you say, arms already out. “Take all the time you need.”

You settle with the baby, Jack beside you, the baby nestled against your chest. Comfortable silence settles between you.

“Now is this grill a time machine?” Robby shouts. “Feels like we’ve turned back the clock five years.”

Jack chuckles, leaning in to nibble the baby’s socked foot. “Yeah. I miss this age.”

You hesitate, heart in your throat. You’ve been dealing with major baby fever lately—but you never thought you'd get to feel this again. Not with him. Not here.

You bite the bullet. “Always thought I’d have two or three, y’know?”

Jack hums. “Never even thought I’d have one. But after Beau, I figured we’d end up with a whole football team.”

A neighborhood kid runs up and squints at you. “Mrs. Abbot… is this your baby?”

You laugh. “Nope, this is Mrs. Turner’s baby. I’m just holding her. My only baby is Beau—and he’s all grown up now.”

The kid nods solemnly and runs off.

“Tough crowd,” you murmur.

You turn—and find Jack still watching you.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says, but there’s a quiet look on his face, “...you didn’t correct her on the last name.”

“She’s four. It's a bit complex to explain that yes, my son’s last name is Abbot, but mine isn’t.”

His lip quirks. You nudge his shoulder gently with yours.

–

It’s Beau’s Pre-K graduation and he’s somewhere outside, bounding around in his paper cap with the usual crew.

Inside, you’re balancing a lukewarm coffee in one hand and a paper plate of grocery store cookies in the other. Someone’s mid-way through an impassioned pitch about why you should join the PTA next year.

Jack’s at your side—polished enough for a school event, sleeves rolled, one too many button undone, looking every bit like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing. Present in a way that feels new. Like he wants people to know he’s here, with you.

You barely even catch the name slip: “So nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Abbot.”

Jack’s hand finds your hip, giving it a firm, familiar squeeze.

You smile without missing a beat.

The conversation wraps. You make polite excuses. You and Jack step out into the hallway toward the playground.

Behind you, the buzz of small talk fades.

“Felt kinda nice, didn’t it?” he says.

You roll your eyes. “I knew you were going to make a comment.”

You turn the corner—and he catches you. One arm braced against the wall, the other slipping around your waist, pinning you gently between him and the cinderblock.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, mouth brushing yours. “They called you Mrs. Abbot and you didn’t flinch.”

You shrug, breath hitching when he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“I told you,” he says, lips skating down your jaw, “you keep playing this game, it’s gonna give me ideas.”

“Maybe I want you to get ideas,” you whisper, fingers curling in the front of his shirt.

His mouth finds yours again—firmer this time. Slower.

Footsteps echo down the far end of the hallway.

You both break apart, laughing quietly.

“Down, boy” you say, smoothing your hair. “We’ve got a graduate to wrangle.”

Jack grins, still close. “For the record, Mrs. Abbot has a real nice ring to it.”

You laugh, “There are worse last names to be stuck with”.

But when he laces your fingers together and leads you out into the sun, you don’t let go.

–

It’s the last month of Beau’s summer break when you head out to the lake. Your parents will be there. Your sister and her kids. Jack’s brother and his family are driving in, too.

You’re panicking, of course. Jack is cool as a cucumber. Beau’s bouncing off the walls with excitement about a whole week of cousin chaos.

You gave your family a stern talk before you left. Be nice. You love him. Beau loves him. He’s doing the work. He’s different now. You’re making it work—and yeah, you’re scared—but you’re also the happiest you’ve ever been.

Naturally, you three are the last to arrive. Of course it’s your fault. One final Zoom dragged long and you left straight from Pittsburgh with your laptop still warm in your bag.

The cabin is palatial. Jack found it. He definitely went over budget, but you know he’d never charge your family. It’s just who he is now—present, generous, steady.

You send Jack and Beau to the backyard with the others while you start unpacking.

A soft knock on the doorframe makes you glance up. Your sister walks in and flops dramatically on the bed.

“Okay,” she says. “You didn’t tell me you replaced your ex with a well-adjusted clone. Where’d Dr. McBroody go?”

You laugh. “I know. It’s weird. You guys didn’t know him when we first started dating. He’s… back. The guy I fell in love with. I didn’t think I’d get that again.”

She hums, skeptical. “Then why are you still keeping him at arm’s length?”

“What?”

“Just trying to figure out why you’re still holding back when he keeps proving himself—over and over—from what I’ve heard and seen with my own two eyes.”

You glance out the window. Jack’s lifting Beau to dunk over the older cousins, both of them laughing.

You sigh. “I’m scared. I can’t go through that again.”

She softens. “You can’t live like that. Cut the poor man some slack. Either go all in, or cut him loose. But don’t keep him in limbo. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” you murmur, following her downstairs.

It’s a surprise when Jack books dinner for just the two of you on the last night of the trip. At the waterfront place you told him your parents went to every summer.

“You’ve got a house full of babysitters,” your dad says, shooing you out the door. “Go enjoy yourselves. Beau’ll be asleep before you’re back.”

It’s a quick drive, and Jack reaches for your hand over the console as soon as you hit the main road. His palm is a little clammy. Yours too.

“I think this might be the best week of my life,” you say, squeezing his hand.

He’s quieter than usual. But relaxed. Smiling.

At the restaurant, he rounds the car to open your door, hand warm on your lower back as he leads you in.

“Reservation for Abbot.”

“Ah yes—right this way, Mr. and Mrs. Abbot.”

You give him a look. “You paid them to say that.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” he says, smug as he pulls out your chair.

Dinner is easy. Familiar. Dreamy.

“Can I ruin the moment?” you ask.

“Nothing you say could ruin this.”

“I miss Beau. He’d hate it here—no kids menu. But I love our little unit.”

“I love our unit. I love Beau. I love you.” His fingers trace absentminded circles over your ring finger.

“I love you too.”

After dinner, you walk along the beach, your head resting against his shoulder. He leads you to the edge of a quiet pier.

“You know,” he says, voice soft, “we’ve been through a lot. And yeah, I’d change so much… but also nothing. Because it all got us here. And I know we’ve talked about this, kind of, but I still wanted it to feel a little traditional—”

You blink, heart racing. “Jack…”

“Just let me finish—before you turn me down, let me say this. I know I’m not perfect, but I’ve been trying. Really trying. And I think you’ve seen that. I think—” his voice catches. “I think we can do this. For real. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Tears are already slipping down your cheeks. “Jack. Just ask me the question.”

That snaps him out of it.

“Oh—right. Okay.” He drops to one knee, pulling a ring from his pocket. Your breath catches.

“Baby,” he says, eyes shining, “I know I don’t deserve you. But would you do me and Beau the honor of becoming an Abbot?”

You drop to your knees in front of him. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” You kiss him between each word.

He slides the ring onto your finger. You kiss him again, a little breathless.

“Alright,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Let’s get you home.”

In the car, you stare down at your hand.

“This ring is perfect. It looks just like my mom’s. It’s my dream ring.”

Jack chuckles. “It’s not like it. It is your mom’s.”

“What?”

“They knew how much you loved it. They gave it to me.”

You stare.

“We still can go ring shopping if it isn't what you want. But when I told them I was going to ask… they offered it. Thought it might mean more.”

“It does,” you whisper. “They know?”

“Of course they know. And Beau knows. And your sister. My brother. Robby. Half the ER. Even the grocery store checkout lady. I haven’t shut up about it.”

You laugh as he pulls into the driveway.

The house is dark, unusually quiet after a week of family chaos.

You lean across the console to kiss him, half-climbing into his lap. He grins against your lips but gently stops you.

“Let’s get inside first.”

You cock your head. “Since when are you the voice of reason?”

He rounds the car, opens your door, and leads you inside, where the lights flip on and the entire house bursts into shouts of “CONGRATULATIONS!”

Beau barrels into your legs and you scoop him up, laughing through tears as Jack presses a kiss to your temple.And for the first time, you don’t flinch when someone calls you Mrs. Abbot. You just smile, because it’s exactly who you are now.