#gonna try triangles next

[nosnexus]

1-hour sketches 2.0

Circles this time!

[sysig]

Went absolutely feral on WOY again recently (Patreon)

[lascvitae]

ON MY MIND ✵ NISHIMURA RIKI.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. YOU MAY BE ON MY MIND

EVERYDAY BABY, SAY YOU’RE MINE .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ you ask your boyfriend to narrate your makeup video and he says yes, but you don’t expect what he leaves in.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. gamer bf!niki x fem!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. fluff ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. teasing, you do vlogs/make videos, established relationship, domestic fluff, niki lowkey bullies you

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 1k

(🎧) now playing — cool with you by njz.

masterlist.

NIKI SLIDES ONTO YOUR DESK chair like he lives there. (he kind of does at this point.)

you left hours ago, sending him a link to the footage and a simple message:

“do my voiceover plz haha”

he sent back a thumbs up emoji and a picture of him playing valorant at your setup with a bowl of dry cereal.

but — finally — the video’s up on your editing laptop. you’re centered in the frame, lips already glossy, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder like you didn’t plan that. he rolls his eyes and hits record.

“alright. this is my girlfriend. she’s about to spend thirty minutes proving she doesn’t need makeup by putting on a full face of makeup.” he says, voice flat.

you hold up your primer and flash a peace sign at the camera.

“step one: mystery goop. i think it makes your face sticky. which is apparently good. don’t ask me why.”

you start patting it in with your fingers, totally focused.

“she’s acting like she’s doing heart surgery right now. it’s not that deep, bro.”

a moment.

“okay, maybe it is. her skin looks good. whatever.”

next up is foundation. you dot it on with practiced precision.

“here comes the skin colored lotion. as if her face isn’t already smooth.”

you blend quickly with your sponge, mouth moving like you’re talking to yourself off camera.

“she’s definitely complaining about something right now. probably the sponge. or the time. she’s never on time.”

concealer comes next. you do a triangle under the eyes, and a to the chin.

“she does this everytime like she doesn’t sleep whenever she can. like it doesn’t make sense.”

you lift a brow at the mirror. he mirrors the look automatically, smirking.

“she makes that face every time. like she’s surprised it’s turning out cute. babe. it always turns out cute.”

you do your brows now. you go in with small, controlled strokes and niki hums under his breath.

“this part? she zones out completely. i could be talking to her and tell her i crashed the car and she’ll make faces then respond ten seconds later.”

then eyeshadow. you hesitate. consider. then go for the neutral and pink shades.

he nods like he predicted it.

“she does this every time. pretends she’s gonna experiment with brighterer colors and then picks the same color she always uses. at this point it’s muscle memory.”

eyeliner next. you draw a clean wing with one hand, barely blinking.

“i can’t look. i always think she’ll poke her eye.”

you pick up your lash curler and glance at the camera like you already know he’s going to say something.

“yep. the torture device.”

you clamp it, curling your eyelashes upward.

“why are you not even scared? like you’re not squeezing metal near your eyeball right now. couldn’t be me. actually, literally wouldn’t be me.”

you curl the other side with the same calmness.

“she does this in the car sometimes. i don’t know how she does it while moving. and i just have to sit there and pretend i’m not witnessing some shit out of final destination.”

you reach for your mascara next, open it and apply it to your lashes.

“this is the lash grower. like it’s literally magic.”

you pause mid swipe, mouth open, brows slightly raised like you’re trying not to mess up.

“this is the mascara face. you know the one. mouth open, eyes wide, like a fish.”

you finish one eye, then the other, blinking carefully toward the ceiling.

“honestly? she ate that. i’ve never seen someone do this without stabbing their own eye. i flinch just watching it.”

then blush. you apply it to your cheeks and the tip of your nose.

“she’s obsessed with this part. but i like watching it. it makes her look pretty and soft. and the way she uses like, nothing, and it still spreads out—“ he catches himself, laughing under his breath.

“yeah. i like this part.”

you smile at something off camera now. probably at yourself. or maybe at the joke you were thinking of when you were filming. whatever it was, it makes his heart squeeze.

“she smiles like that and i forget what i was talking about.” he says quietly.

highlighter next. it’s just enough to catch the light and you tilt your face toward the window.

“there it is. that little head tilt. she does that every time too. look at her trying not to smile. she knows she looks good. i hope she trips on her way out. just kidding. i’ll catch her.”

you’re reaching for your lip liner now, dragging it gently along the edge of your lips with precision.

niki squints.

“okay, now we’re doing… outlining. this part’s lowkey a scam. she lines her lips just to fill them in again. but i’m not allowed to question it.”

you lean in a little, still focused, overlining the top lip slightly.

“look at her. just casually redrawing her face like it’s a coloring book. i said something about it once and she was like ‘it’s called enhancing.’ okay then. my bad bae.”

you cap the liner and grab your lipstick next, a nudey pink, your go to. you tap it on lightly, almost like a stain.

“this one’s always in her purse. i don’t even know what shade it is but i like it.”

finally: lip gloss. his real enemy. you swipe it on, press your lips together, and pout a little.

niki sighs dramatically. “this part ruins my life. i go in for a kiss and she’s like, ‘nooo you’ll mess it up.’ like girl. you just spent thirty minutes turning into the human version of an angel and i don’t even get one kiss?”

you pose and he continues to talk.

“then when i finally get to kiss her i become one of those sticky mouse traps. but it’s okay. i secretly like it.” he admits.

you laugh at yourself then reach to cover the camera and the screen cuts.

he leans back in your chair, hoodie sleeves half pushed up, hand hovering over the stop button.

the room’s quiet again. the file’s done. he could stop recording.

but he doesn’t.

not right away.

he exhales, taps the desk once with his knuckle, then mutters under his breath, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s still talking into the mic.

“she’s so pretty it actually pisses me off.”

he pauses.

then speaks softer. more to himself than anything.

“…i’m so down bad for her it’s insane.”

click.

taglist — @saysirhc @blissfulflw @yuyuy90

[isasweetie]

‎♡‧₊˚ boat days with rafe are always prissy!readers favourite days.

you loved them because it felt like the one moment rafe’s mind wasn’t elsewhere. usually he was a stressed, impatient man, but when he’d find the time to take the yacht out far and just park it there and soak in the sun with you, he was always happy.

rafe was doing his morning workout while you soaked in the sun that reflected from the water, a shirley temple in hand that rafe made you at the bar. peacefully content, your stomach rested on the longue chair as your back tanned, glowing from the tanning oil that rafe had applied for you while complaining about how oily it felt and how he was gonna have to wash his hands.

with a sigh when you realize your drink is empty, you call rafe’s name to get you another one — not in a bratty way, you just knew rafe was always glad to keep you content, so he would make you another, even if he did mutter ‘i’m not your fuckin’ servant’ every time.

he comes over, pausing his workout. “yeah, baby?”

“can i have another drink?” you ask, turning over to lie on your back so you can face him.

“yeah, i got you,” he takes the empty glass and makes you another shirley temple, then brings it back to you. “need anything else?”

“umm..” you try to think, biting on your inner cheek. “dunno if i really want tan lines, can you help me untie my bikini top?”

“this isn’t france, baby, can’t sit outside with your tits out,”

“do you see anyone around? we’re in the middle of the ocean,” you ask. “didn’t know you were such a prude, just wanna tan my chest,”

“m’not a prude. fine, sit up. c’mon,” he relents, and you sit up.

his big hands fidget with the little bow on your triangle bikini, untying both knots. “there you go,” he pats your shoulder. “gotta go back to working out, you good here for like, fifteen minutes? not bored?”

“i’m fine. thank you rafe,” you smile up at him, pecking his lips while he’s still crouched down.

he nods, giving you one last look with his pretty baby blues before turning to go to the back of the boat to finish his workout.

you spend a bit of time on your phone while you’re still sat up, taking photos of the water, and topless selfies to absolutely send to rafe next time he’s at the office, and take sips of your shirley temple. then you apply some tanning oil on your front and tan that side for a little while, putting in an earbud to listen to some lana del rey.

after a while, you’re overheatting, even with your drink. but thankfully, rafe is feeling the exact same way. he finishes his workout and comes back to you all sweaty.

“hey,” he breathes out, taking the earbud out of your ear and stealing a sip of your drink so he can get his breath back.

“rafe!” you whine, swiping your drink back.

“usually when people say hey, you say hi back,” he says sarcastically, teasing you. “anyway, c’mon, we’re going swimming, i’m hot as fuck and you’re coming with me,”

you nod and he helps you up. he takes you to the edge of the boat. “we’re gonna jump, you good with that?”

“nervous,” you admit, staring off the yacht and into the blue water.

“you’ll be all good. i’ll hold your hand,” he assures, grabbing your manicured hand. “on three,”

he counts down, squeezing your hand each time. when he gets to three, he jumps and pulls you with him.

the water feels cold and refreshing against your warm body. you can’t help but think that your blowout is ruined from the water, but rafe will pay for another one if it upsets you. giggling, you resurface, looping your arms around rafe’s neck, topless chest pressed against his. “that was fun!”

“yeah?” he can’t help the little smile that appears at your happiness. “c’mon, let’s go again,”

with an eager nod, he helps you onto the ladder at the back of the boat, and you grab his hand when he walks you to the edge again. he counts down again, and you jump. it continues like that for 7 minutes until you get chilly.

rafe gets you a towel embroidered with his name (of course), and leaves you to warm up in the sun.

at the end of the day, you’ve changed into a spare sundress kept below deck, because rafe is cooking dinner in the mini kitchen on the yacht. you watch him cook, drying your hair off with a towel, then recurling your eyelashes and putting your lipgloss back on that wiped away.

you sit down back outside, both of you eating your dinner as the sky turns into this gorgeous swirl of pink, orange, and yellow while the sun dips down.

with the golden hour highlighting every feature on your boyfriends face, the feeling of your wet hair soaking the back of the dress, and putting the most delicious food in your mouth, you’re absolutely sure you’ll never get sick of this.

“i think the water is gonna tarnish my necklace,” you tell rafe gently as you help him wash the plates after. your hand subconsciously fiddles with said necklace, the one that has his initial on it. rafe’s very proud of that necklace.

“well we can’t have that, yeah?” rafe smiles, putting his hands on your waist. “we’ll buy you a new one tomorrow, hm? real gold this time, no cheaping out,”

you smile and nod, and he kisses you in a way that’s gonna screw you up forever. being with him is like paradise.

[jayyluvvies]

Synopsis- your new step brother is amazing he helps you learn new things, he watches you change in case you need help, he picks your outfits even when they're short he says that today's fashion, and now he's even helping me get out of the dryer! Isn't he great?

Warning- .SMUT MDI. Perv sunghoon. Innocent reader. Panty sniffing, watching while reader showers, oral (both m and f receiving), masturbation, dumb reader, stuck in a dryer, spanking, nipple pulling.

taglist: @skyearby🎀

Sunghoon is just the best step brother you can ask for; he helps you change you clothes even picking your fits for you today he picked out a mini triangle bikini helping you put it on putting his hands touching your chest to ‘angle’ the nipples in the middle sigh he’s the best next he gave you a pair of a mini skirt not bothering to give you underwear and when you asked him he simple shrugged and replied “dont worry its the current fashion to not wear them” sigh absolute best

Sunghoon smirked and helped you wear the skirt but noticed your nipples weren’t hard so he tsked at you making you look at him “whats wrong hoonie?” He rolled his sleeves up coming to you “I need your nipples hard baby” and he immediately pulled the bikini aised revealing your gorgeous tits he loved gosh you’re so innocent he doesn’t even feel guilty and starts trying with your nipples and you just moaned rolling your eyes as it’s normal he’s just helping by making the outfit better you squirmed rubbing your thighs together biting your lower lip and he just chuckled and gave your tits a slap once your nipples were hard. He put the bikini back on and admired his work before putting you on the table and spreading your legs for the morning inspection he’d do this every morning, he’d open your legs and give a kiss on your pussy and starts fingering you until you came then he’d proceed to eat you out claiming “that’s how to stay healthy and clean” and so you let him. Once he’s done he let’s to go about your day sometimes groping your ass when the parents aren’t home or stealing your panties and making you watch as he used your soiled undies to jack him off or just help you in general like right now;

Where your stuck in a dryer in the outfit sunghoon had made you put on you tried pulling yourself but it was no use so you called sunghoon and he came soon and when he saw you stuck inside ass out thanks to the mini-mini skirt he made you wear and the idea of not giving you underwear “tsk tsk are you stuck?” He muttered bending to caress your ass cheek “yes hoonie please help me out?” you whimpered wiggling your butt so he could help you but it only made him spank you and he noticed your tits hanging out from the dryer immediately grabbing on to them making you yelp “ah! H-hoonie are you sure this will help me out?” He just tugged on your nipples and said “yeah, dont worry baby” He toyed with them till you were clenching on nothing and rubbing your thighs together making him smirk and pulled down his pants coming behind you holding his dick and lining it to you entrance going up and down covering the head of his dick with your slick , teasing you.

He pushes in and grabs your hips “don’t worry baby this is the best and fastest way to pull you out” and you being the innocent darling just nodded and pushed your ass more to him which he grabbed on to and started thrusting going under and toying with your pussy giving it a few slaps while groaning and cussing “fuck so pretty and all p-presented for me- mh fuck” he increased his speed and grabbed your tits seeing them bounce from the side and you started being a moaning mess knowing your close “ah-ah hoonie im- OH fuck I’m close!” He hummed and know your ass some spanks “I know baby come on cum for me” and the coil in your stomach snapped cumming all over his cock, shaking as he didnt stop reaching his own high and he kept spanking you while you came “F-fuckkkk im close too you’re gonna take it from me yeah? You whore! Getting stuck in there just for me to fuck you mh? Tsk tsk” he spat as he came inside you painting your walls white. With his cum. All his.

He smirked as he pulled out and just left you there still stuck in the dryer and came back with some towels wiping himself and got on his knees and lapped on your cunt with no warning making you shriek as he was just ‘cleaning’ you up, he ate like a dog tasting himself and you on your cunt once he was done luckily you were sweating and came out in a jiff but you thought it was because of the fucking he gave and you just smiled and got on your knees to thank him. Sigh such a great step brother.

[yukioos]

"Probably write a part 3????" BABY I NEED A WHOLE SERIES! This is SO good and I can't wait to see where you take it xx

BETTER IN THE DARK

SUMMARY: hwang in-ho x wife reader // after voting, the majority decides the players will stay in the game for at least one more round. after you’re served dinner, two men come up to you and flirt with you. when you don’t answer, they try to pick a fight with you. once it gets too intense, in-ho steps in and saves you. he brings you back to the group and gives you a kiss goodnight.

AUTHORS NOTE: hi! i’m probably gonna turn this into a series bc i like writing about this. hope u guys r okay with that! there are 1.8k words in this. here are the links to part 1 part 2 ALSO THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 600 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH

WARNINGS: not proofread, violence, cussing, thanos and nam-gyu are dicks

TAGS: @annasnape7 @watasinekoru @namelesslosers @sxmmerchxldblog @lisaannwalterlover @gracesworks @vkeyy

after the majority vote was to stay in the games, dinner was served to the players. you stood in line behind your husband, who tried not to glance at you once he walked away. a circle guard held out a metal container for you.

you gently grabbed the cold container, smiling and mumbling out a “thank you.” before stepping out of line to your bed. you opened the container to see rice, a fried egg, beans, anchovies, kimchi, and some sort of sausage. you sat on the stairs for a couple of minutes as you ate, before a crowd began to swarm gi-hun and a man next to him.

when you looked closer, you realized in-ho was leading the group. the ‘o’ group was asking about the next game, and the former player replied, explaining how dalgona was to be the next game, and the shapes to choose. however, gi-hun couldn’t have been more wrong.

his friend asked, “so, of those, which was the easiest one to do?” and leaned in close, the ‘o’ group copying him, listening intently to gi-hun’s next words.

he replied, “the triangle.”

player 390 then asked, “and which was the hardest one?”

gi-hun answered with one word, not caring to say anymore, “umbrella.”

in-ho scoffed, “umbrella?” he rolled his eyes, laughing, “what— players actually picked umbrella?” he stood up, “they had no idea what the game was so i bet they were totally screwed, right?” the crowd agreed, nodding their heads and murmuring to one another. player 456 stared at your husband, eyebrows pointed upwards, ashamedly.

you paused your chewing and giggled to yourself, knowing in-ho loved to get on people’s nerves, and he did so successfully. player 100 suggested no one should tell anyone else to pick the triangle for the next game, as he wanted more prize money to be added. gi-hun immediately refused, explaining he wanted everyone to survive. the crowd walked away, but your husband stayed, probably trying to interrogate the former player.

your husband sat down next to player 390, and began to ask why gi-hun came back to the game, opposing every answer he gained. once they’d argued long enough about players voting ‘x’ and players voting ‘o,’ the former player’s friend intervened, and began to talk about how they needed to win the next game. the conversation began to get boring, so you returned to slowly eating your food, missing all the activities back at home.

after almost finishing half of your meal, a boy with black shoulder-length hair came to your bed and leaned against it. he stared at you for a few seconds before leaning his arm against the metal pole. you stared back with intensity, attempting to appear unapproachable and rude. he asked, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing in a shitty place like this?” and gave you an uncanny smile, causing your stomach to twist uncomfortably. the words would’ve been better if they were from your husband.

you continued to stare at him, not yet answering him. a sinking feeling fled into your chest, you might’ve needed to eventually fight him if he continued giving you trouble. player 124 continued, “come on, why aren’t you talkin’? i’m not gonna do any harm.”

footsteps began to approach your bed, almost caging you in. a man with purple hair and painted nails, player 230, placed his hands above a metal beam. he inquired, “hey, why aren’t you answering him? you scared? he’s a good guy, promise.” you still kept your legs crossed, and looked down at your white sheets, wishing they would go away. deep down, you knew they wouldn’t.

in your peripheral vision, you saw the two of them give each other a knowing glance, causing your stomach to churn. you quickly swallowed your food, anticipating something odd to happen. a hand suddenly grabbed your jacket and threw you to the ground. as your knees hit the hard floor, you sighed, knowing this was to happen.

as you slowly pushed yourself onto your hands, your hair dangled in front of your face, making it difficult to see anything. a fist collided with your face, causing your head to bang to the ground. people all around the room gasped at the scene, which unfortunately, included you. before you could get up, player 230 grabbed you by the neck and put his face close to yours, “why the fuck didn’t you answer him, huh? he was tryin’ to be nice, and you ignored him.” he chuckled, “now this is what you get—“

before he could continue, you balled your fist up and punched him square in the jaw. as in-ho watched the scene unravel, he knew eventually, the two would team up on you and overpower you somehow. his breathing became erratic, his eyes were as sharp as knives. he clenched his fists and ignored a question of worry from player 388.

maybe acting weaker would be better. or would acting stronger be better? you knew you could easily win these games against everyone in this room, including the creator himself, but you didn’t know how to show yourself to others. how the hell were you supposed to appear as? timid? confident? polite? intimidating? rude? god, you didn’t know, but you began to occasionally fight the men back, wanting to appear as someone who isn’t one side of anything, but the middle. swing a punch or kick every so often, but enough to let them get a couple hits.

fuck, that was not a healthy mindset. in-ho would never let you take shit from anyone.

player 001 stood up and strode over with confidence and anger. he asked, “hey kids, what makes you think you can hit anyone like that? it’s disrespectful to her, and everyone surrounding you. it’s bad manners, “not to mention, it’s two against one.” he hoped your body would be feeling well enough to play the games properly.

as the men started to walk away from your body, which was laying on the ground, the two of you felt a wave of relief. you knew in-ho would be able to take them down easily, he was specially trained to fight like hell with little effort. the purple-haired man ran his mouth, causing your husband to grab him by the neck, immediately feeling a tugging hand around his wrist. player 124 walked over, attempting to stop in-ho, “hey, get your fucking—“ he was immediately kicked in the shin a numerous amount of times before he fell to the ground, weakly holding his knee.

all the pain in your body disappeared as you stared in awe at your husband. you couldn’t believe he was yours, but you were so proud. he barely broke a sweat as he fought those men to protect you.

the group groaned, some even covered their mouths in shock. your husband let go of his neck, almost throwing him multiple feet away. the rapper mumbled and attempted to make a swing at the older man, only getting hit in the stomach as a response he hunched over in pain and gasped, “wait— wait a minute—” but was treated with no mercy. in-ho grabbed the man’s outstretched hand and twisted it, making you wince once you heard bones cracking.

he fell to the ground and groaned as he was kicked in the chest and face multiple times, trying to pathetically back away. he mumbled, “i’m sorry, sir—“ as in-ho held his hand tight against his neck. he let go, still fuming and warm. the purple-haired man coughed, and the players erupted with cheer and compliments to your husband. he awkwardly glanced around and fixed his hair, not used to all the attention. he remembered the reason why he was fighting in the first place, because of you. he quickly turned around, wide eyes darting everywhere until they landed on your body, sitting on the ground. you nervously glanced up at him, and he placed his hand in front of you, wanting you to take it.

you stood up with his help and bowed, “thank you, sir, i don’t know what i would’ve done if you didn’t step in and save me.”

he replied, “please don’t thank me, miss. it’s the least i could’ve done for you.” you shyly smiled and averted your gaze, causing him to teasingly tilt his head in the way you were looking. he wanted your eyes on his again.

he loved feeling your soft hands against his. in-ho was in deep, as he was feeling uneasy without you even after an hour of not talking to you. in-ho stated, “how about i walk you over to a group? one of the players has participated in these games, so we’ll have a high chance of winning if we stick together.” you nodded and he guided you, asking you questions about yourself as if he didn’t know you like the back of his hand. once the two of you sat down and he introduced you to the other players, he sat down close to you, but not close enough to be knee-to-knee or shoulder-to-shoulder. he asked, “do you feel okay? you took a lot of hits back there.”

you nodded, and he and his group continued to fill you in with what player 456 knows about the game. you had to admit, it was difficult playing as someone you weren’t. it was even harder to act like you didn’t know your favorite person, your husband.

hours passed, and before you knew it, it was around time to sleep. as you were about to leave to walk to your bed, a hand stopped you, gently grabbing your arm. in-ho suggested, “how about you sleep here? player 456 recommended we stay close together, so we’ll be safer.”

he pulled that lie out of his ass. gi-hun didn’t say anything about staying together at night.

you thought for a moment and grinned, “sure, why not,” and laid down on a mattress, pulling the sheets over your body. you laid on your side and mumbled, “night, young-il,” as in-ho ordered you to call him, as it was an alias. he turned his head to you and smiled, muttering a soft ‘good night,’ when you heard those words, you immediately passed out.

in-ho took a moment to himself and glanced around, making sure no one was looking before he walked to your bed. he kneeled down and gently placed his rough hand on your cheek, rubbing it as he whispered praises into your hair. he kissed your forehead, as he always did after you fell asleep.

he was so glad that you were okay.

[charmedimsure]

dae-ho x f!reader where they just met in the games and they obviously had a connection so they went to the bathroom

and when they were kissing someone came in and caught them (you can choose who) and then they tease them about it when they come out

(if you’re uncomfortable with smut it doesn’t have to be smut!!)

NOT A WORD || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader

summary: You and Dae-ho share a moment in the bathroom

word count: 1.4k

warnings: squid game stuff, 18+

A/N: this is the closest i will get to writing smut. if you see any mistakes no you didn't <3

You walk into the bathroom, rubbing your eyes with your hands. It had been a long day. First one of your friends died in Mingle, then the vote on whether to stay or go home was split 50/50, meaning tensions have never been higher.

You look up, pausing when you see the urinals. The guard could've at least guided you to the correct restroom. Instead, they just brought you to two doors, one with a triangle and one with a square. You chose the wrong one, apparently. Still, there are stalls, so whatever.

After you go, you come out of the stall, turning the knob of the sink to wash your hands. You look in the mirror at yourself. You wish you could take back all of those times that you apologized for looking like a mess. All those times you have never come close to how you look now. Your hair is a knotted mess, and the smudges of at least four day old mascara is smeared under your eyes, making you look gaunt.

With a huff, you comb your fingers through your hair, trying to get out as many knots as you can. The loose strands fall from your head, and you grimace as you watch them pile up in the sink. That's... a lot of hair. You turn the faucet back on, letting it go down the drain. It'll be their problem now.

The door to the bathroom opens and you jump. When a familiar face walks in, you relax.

"Thank god it's just you," you sigh.

Dae-ho gives you a confused look. "Why are you in the men's room?"

You roll your eyes. "I've just always really wanted to try pissing in a urinal," you deadpan.

The man smirks. "You walked into the wrong bathroom?"

"Yep."

He chuckles, going over to one of the stalls and locking the door.

You look back at yourself in the mirror, trying to make yourself look at least a little presentable. You rub under your eyes, trying to get the makeup off of your face, but if anything it just smudges even more.

Dae-ho comes out of the stall, walking to the sink next to you and washing his hands. He looks at you, a small frown on his face. "What's wrong."

"I'm trying to get this off but it won't budge," you say, throwing your hands in the air with a huff. Two hands grab your waist and you involuntarily let out a small squeal as you're lifted up.

Dae-ho sets you down so that you're sitting on the edge of the sink, you're back facing the mirror. He runs the sink next to yours, pulling his sleeve over his hand and running it under the water.

"What are you doing?"

"This is how my sisters take their's off when they run out of makeup wipes," he says, bringing his damp sleeve to your face. With the sleeve over his thumb, you watch him as he gently wipes under your right eye. You relax, opting to watch his face as he focuses.

"What do you think's gonna happen tomorrow with the vote?" you ask.

Dae-ho sighs. "I wish I could say we'll win, that we'll finally go home, but I have no idea." He puts his sleeve over his other hand, running under the water before copying his motions under your other eye. "Gi-hun says there's gonna be a fight tonight. That's why they gave us the forks with dinner today, they want us to kill each other."

"Sick fucks," you mumble. You wish you could say you're surprised, but nothing here really surprises you anymore. It's silent for another mminute before you speak again. "I'm going to die tonight."

Dae-ho gives you a concerned look. "Why do you say that?"

"I can play kids games, but I don't have the strength to fight off someone who's trying to kill me. The moment someone grabs me, I'm dead."

Dae-ho finishes cleaning your makeup off, wiping the wet areas with the dry part of his sleeves. "You know we're not gonna let that happen, right?"

You shrug.

Dae-ho cups your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him. "Listen to me. You are not going to die tonight. I'll protect you, I swear on my life."

Tears start to well up in your eyes. "And what if they get you?" You take a deep, shaky breath. "I don't want you to die."

You and Dae-ho had found each other during the first game. He kept you behind him, and you helped him know when to stop so he wouldn't get caught. When he joined Gi-hun's team, he brought you along.

"I don't want you to die, either," he whispers. He slides his hands down your arms, holding your hands in his.

A small smile appears on your face. "At least I'll die having watched the best game of Gong-gi ever played."

Dae-ho lets out a chuckle, his cheeks turning red as he looks away. When he looks back at you, the softness in his eyes nearly makes you melt.

"In case we die tonight," he says softly, "in case these are our last few hours alive, let me do something I've been thinking about since our first day here."

His eyes flicker to your lips and you gasp slightly. He looks back up to your eyes, silently asking permission, and you nod.

He closes the distance between you, breathing you in as he cradles your face. You bring your hands up to thread into his hair, kissing him back eagerly. If you're going to die tonight, this is how you want to spend your last moments.

His tongue teases your lips and you part them slightly, allowing him access. You lightly tug on his hair, the groan he lets out as a result going straight to your core.

Fuck, you need him right now.

Without breaking the kiss, you move your hands away from his hair, unzipping his jacket and pushing it over his shoulders. He takes his hands away from you for a moment to let the article fall to the floor before his hands attach to your hips. He steps closer to you, your bodies flush against each other.

He moves away from you lips, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your throat that have you gasping. His hands lift the hem of your shirt, rising underneath to roam your bare skin. You throw your head back as his lips travel lower and low-

"Oh shit!"

The voice breaks you out of the moment, your head whipping around to look at the door. Jung-bae stands at the entrance to the bathroom, eyes moving back and forth between you and Dae-ho. You freeze, along with the man whose hands are still underneath your shirt.

"Uhh, I'll just go. You two have fun," he walks out, a small smirk on his face.

Dae-ho is still looking at the door when he feels your stomach moving under his hands. He looks at you, a small smile spreading on his face when he sees your quiet laughter. He breaks into laughter as well, removing his hands from you.

"At least it was just him," you chuckle. "Imagine it was that old man."

Dae-ho laughs harder, picking his jacket up off of the ground. Instead of putting it on himself, he wraps it around your shoulders, taking your hips in his hands to help you off the counter.

Once your feet are back on the ground, you reach for the back of his neck, planting another kiss on his lips. "If we get out of here, we'll continue this."

Dae-ho nods, a smile on his face as he kisses your temple. You take his hand, walking to the door of the bathroom. When you leave, you spot Jung-bae leaning against the wall. As soon as he sees you, a smirk decorates his face. He opens his mouth to talk but you hold up your hand, stopping him.

"Not a word, Jung-bae," you threaten.

The man holds up his hands in surrender, the smirk still on his face as he enters the bathroom.

You sigh and shake your head, looking at Dae-ho and breaking out into another chuckle before walking back to your quarters.

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @ally1uvsu @hiphip-horray @k1michii @tpwkcaryslizb @louissst28 @sshwaa @jennwonwoo @sunnysurvives @lalalaa2210 @tayshs @sunshinethatlooksalive @plntmxrss @lxnnrobin @mariaxman @alexx-iia @batty-barty-crouchjr @kxsm3t @takuma-talkz @peacemakersbeloved @skywalker0809 @soobinbunnie5 @dragons-h0ard @silas-222 @putrescentpoet @chrisgetsmewetter

Squid Game tags: @thebiggestigurosimp @vvnbxz @lov3yy @miltzzy @l5byrinth @come-as-you-are-111 @starkeyszn @learninglinesintherainn

lmk if you want to be added to the tags! (lmk which one)

[kxsagi]

Hi, can i request blue lock boys (especially rin) with pear/triangle body shape girlfriend? i see a lot of hate for this body shape, sometimes i wish i was hourglass or balanced front and back T_T

“𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐞 (𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐞)”

a/n: all my readers are so pretty that VOGUE is waiting to make them their front cover model 💋

ft. itoshi rin, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, niko ikki, kaiser michael, ness alexis, karasu tabito, shidou ryusei

itoshi rin

at first, he doesn’t really get why you feel insecure. like, it doesn't compute in his mind. you’re beautiful. that’s a fact. there’s no debate to be had. 

“people on the internet are stupid,” he says flatly. “they think having a personality makes you ugly too.” 

he’s the king of quiet obsession. his eyes always drift to your hips and thighs without him realizing it. when he sees you wearing something that hugs your shape, he just… stares. like, long enough for you to go “what?” 

“nothing. you look… perfect.” 

doesn’t really compliment you the typical way, but if he catches you in leggings or a tight skirt? you’re not leaving the house without him following you around like a lost puppy (with a scowl). 

the way he slips his hand into your back pocket or keeps it on your waist when walking beside you is instinct at this point. even if you’re not touching, he’s close. he’s protecting the throne. 

“if i ever hear someone make you feel bad about your body again, i’ll make them wish they were never born.” and you believe him. 

itoshi sae

“i’ve been around a lot of girls. none of them make me look twice like you do.” 

smooth with it, but real. he doesn’t say it to flatter you, he says it because it’s the truth. 

he’s a menace in private. smacks your ass and walks away like it’s a normal greeting. makes sure you feel that he loves your body. 

always encourages you to wear whatever makes you happy, but he’s never subtle when something hugs your curves. 

“that dress is cute. but it’d be a crime to wear it anywhere near other people. just saying.” 

when you voice insecurities, he gets weirdly serious. no teasing, no smugness. he cups your face and goes, “don’t talk about yourself like that. you’re more than enough. i’m proud to have you next to me.” 

makes it known to everyone that you’re his. arm around your hip. lips on your neck. if people weren’t jealous before, they are now. 

isagi yoichi

the sweetest boy with the most intense inner monologue. like he sees you in yoga pants and he’s malfunctioning internally. 

“why is she so pretty. how is this real. should i say something. no, i’ll sound like a perv–” 

but when you’re sad about your body, his voice is calm and sincere. 

“you’re not supposed to look like anyone else. you’re supposed to look like you. and you look amazing.” 

1000% obsessed with your thighs. loves when you sit in his lap. cuddles you with his arms around your waist like he’s trying to fuse souls. 

he gets SO proud when you wear something a little more form-fitting. blushes and beams at you like you just won the world cup. 

“i hope you know i’m gonna be staring at you all day now.” 

encourages you gently, lovingly, and constantly. you’re his goddess. his perfect girl. no notes. 

bachira meguru

he ADORES your shape. like to the point where he draws lil cartoon versions of you with big sparkly hips and a speech bubble saying “bachira’s wifey ♡” 

“you look like a heart! a sexy, beautiful heart!” 

zero shame about simping. he literally bows down to you when you wear anything tight or short. 

loves picking you up and spinning you around. calls you his “softie queen” and “curvy cutie.” 

if anyone makes you feel bad about your body, he gets real serious. eyes dark. voice low. “you don’t talk to my girl like that. ever.” 

cuddles = thighs. if he’s not hugging them, he’s laying on them, kissing them, or tracing shapes into them. 

“you’re squishy and warm and strong. the perfect combo. like a battle mochi.” 

chaos boyfriend but he worships you with every atom in his body. 

nagi seishiro

doesn’t understand societal standards. all he knows is: you = hot. 

“you’re pretty and comfy. that’s all that matters to me.” 

uses your thighs as a pillow. refuses to use anything else. makes an annoyed noise when you get up. “c’mon, lemme live.” 

holds your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder when you’re cooking or standing still. just stands there. vibing. 

compliments you without even meaning to: “that outfit’s doing things to me.” and you’re like ??? 

absolutely has a folder in his phone of you looking hot without even knowing it. 

if someone dares to insult you, he just says “who even are you?” with the most judgmental face. 

doesn’t say it often but when he does, it hits hard: “i love the way you are. don’t change it, ‘kay?” 

mikage reo

hype man x sugar daddy x obsessed bf combo. 

sees you walk out in something tight and goes “oh, you’re trying to kill me. cool, cool (please step on me).”  

takes you shopping and refuses to let you downplay how you look. “that top? with those hips? unfair. we’re buying it.” 

constantly sneaks pics of you when you’re not looking and saves them to a secret “goddess” album on his phone. 

calls you “art.” like not in a cheesy way. in a stunned, reverent kind of way. 

“if you were in a museum, i’d stand there all day.” 

if you ever call yourself “disproportionate,” he’ll pout and go “nah, you’re exactly my type. the perfect kind of unbalanced.” 

niko ikki

shy about how much he loves your body, but you can tell. he lingers when you change. blushes when you stretch. stares a lot. 

super cuddly when he’s in the mood. loves burying his face in your thighs and groaning like “why are you built like heaven…” 

gives you gentle, steady compliments. he’s not flashy, but you’ll hear “you’re beautiful” at least once a day. 

“don’t let anyone’s opinion shrink the way you carry yourself. you’re worth more than that.” 

gets genuinely mad if you criticize your looks. “don’t say that. it’s not true. not to me.” 

quiet lover, loud thoughts. and all those thoughts are: “she’s so hot. how did i get her. i’m never letting go.” 

kaiser michael

dramatic. extravagant. OBSESSED. 

you say “my hips are too big” and he scoffs like “too big? darling, they’re glorious.” 

literally bows down to you sometimes just for the bit. 

“you are a divine creature sent to torment mere mortals like me.” 

shamelessly posts you on his story like “this is what perfection looks like. cry about it.” 

buys you designer clothes custom-tailored to your measurements because “off-the-rack can’t handle royalty.” 

if anyone talks bad about you? he will make it his life’s mission to ruin them. 

also just... can’t stop touching you. hand on your hip, waist, thigh, he needs to be in contact with you 24/7. 

“i am your #1 worshipper. now turn around and lemme admire the masterpiece again.” 

ness alexis

soft. sweet. just wants to make you feel loved 24/7. 

“you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen.” he says it so casually, like it’s just a truth he knows. 

draws hearts on your thighs with his finger when you cuddle. 

makes playlists for you titled “pretty girl vibes” and “curvy angel energy.” 

compliments your shape every time you’re out. “you’re gonna break necks today, pretty.” 

if you start picking at your appearance, he gently hugs you and goes “you’re perfect just like this. i mean it.” 

soft kisses all over your waist and hips. just lets you know you’re cherished. 

karasu tabito

“pear-shaped?” he repeats when you mention it. raises a brow, leans in. “you say that like it’s a bad thing.” 

has that quiet, cocky energy. doesn’t outright say he’s obsessed, but the way his eyes trail after you? he’s not subtle. 

loves it when you walk ahead of him just so he can enjoy the view. 

“i should’ve been born as the ground beneath your hips. tragic.” 

if you ever say something like “i wish i had more balance” he hums, shrugs, and goes, “nah. people with ‘balanced’ bodies cry when they see you. stay unique, babe.” 

he’s sarcastic, but dead serious when it counts. catches you spiraling? he hooks a finger under your chin, pulls you close and says, “i like every part of you. but your hips? yeah. they’re my favorite.” 

sits you in his lap and spreads his legs so you’re molded perfectly to him. 

uses every excuse to touch your waist when he talks to you. you think it’s casual until you realize he’s lowkey feeling you up. 

gets dangerously smug if someone tries to flirt with you. “yeah, those hips don’t lie. and they don’t lie with you either. move along.” 

and when it’s just the two of you? he murmurs in your ear, slow and warm: “i love your body. not in spite of anything. just as it is. so don’t hide it, alright?”

shidou ryusei

actual feral dog. pear-shaped body? he's on his knees. 

“the gods were crazy for building you like that.” 

smacks your ass constantly. unapologetically. might get banned from public places for it. 

if you say anything self-deprecating, he shuts it down IMMEDIATELY: “nah, shut that shit up. you’re the hottest thing walking. and you’re mine. end of story.” 

gets possessive real fast. someone stares too long? “the fuck are you lookin’ at? go find your own body goals.” 

also incredibly sweet when you need him to be. strokes your sides, kisses your thighs, murmurs “this body? it’s home, baby.” 

he’d start fights in your honor without hesitation. 

you’re his ideal type, no competition. thick thighs, hips for days? "i'm ready to die happy." 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 13

______________________________

"We have to get off this ship" Annabeth whispers "the amount of monsters here aren't normal, something is going on" she says

You were about to agree then a loud clang was heard, you four quickly hid

Looking at the window you see straw dummies with orange camp half-blood shirts, a Dracaenae (dragon women) rips the dummies and the other monsters cheer

"—Don't push me Agrius!" You feel both Annabeth and Percy stiffen as the sudden voice seeps into your ears

"Luke..." Percy shudders, This Luke guy and his friend were arguing, something about gambling, wait no- that's a metaphor for taking a risk

"it will pay off!" Luke yells "They'll take the bait... Now let's check in the casket"

Tyson whimpered "Leave now?"

Silence...

"please..." He muttered after

The remaining three of you came to an agreement, Percy looked eager and Annabeth looked worried

You sigh "We can't, if this guy is talking about something that relates to camp or something worse, we have to find out"

And if possible beat the shit out of him and drag him back to camp to explain

Annabeth volunteered to go alone, saying she had a camp that turned her invisible so it'd be fine, it was met with both you and Percy objecting and saying everyone will go or no one will

"I vote no one goes! Pretty please?" Tyson pleaded, and it ended with three kids crawling and walking like spies with a big cyclops nervously chewing his fingernails trotting behind

Someone opens the door for Luke and the monster, not another monster... A demigod!

"that's Chris Rodriguez! From the Hermes cabin!?" You exclaim and then you clasp your hands to your mouth after realizing you were too loud

Annabeth looked heartbroken "there are more traitors...?"

______________________________

A certain king of Atlantis is sat across Bruce, the looming presence between the two, but there is a sense of respect shared

"As a father myself I feel like you should know something" Aquaman sighs

The blonde haired king reminisces the feeling of losing a child, his baby was abducted by someone he trusted and he got his little boy back at the end, it was a dreadful feeling

The feeling that no matter how many good you'll do next, the person you wanted it to be for won't be here to benefit, "Diana was mistaken, Your child was spotted by one of my merguards on the sea, they're alive and I thought you should know-"

"Where?! Where is my kid right now?" Bruce had jumped from the table to shake Aquaman's shoulders

"they are at sea on a ship... And I'm afraid they might be in danger, as the ship is heading for the sea of monsters- or what you humans call the Bermuda triangle, and I can't stop it-"

"Why not!? Aren't you the king of the ocean!??"

"Calm down, I am the king of Atlantis, not the sea nor the ocean, do not mistake me for my emperor, Lord Poseidon"

Bruce takes a deep breath, "Why is my baby there?, how can I get them?"

"I believe your child is on a quest, a quest given by the gods, mortals cannot interfere, you only have to wait for it to be over, there is also a chance they may not get out of the quest alive, Bruce... Don't try anything" Aquaman tries to warn

"I'm not letting my child stay in a place called the sea of monsters, I'll find them" he says

The king looks at him with sadness "Unfortunately you cannot find the sea of monsters, it finds you, it doesn't matter if you search the whole ocean, if the sea does not want you finding it, you won't, you are gonna have to trust your child that they have the means to survive this"

Silence took over, then a gentle heartbroken voice appeared "you just told me my baby is alive, and if they die again, I don't know how I'll pull through this time"

"I'm so sorry Bruce, I'll take my leave"

______________________________

"We are SO gonna die here" you whisper in Percy's ear

Annabeth shifts as to the four of you tiptoe into the Captain's door, that's when you hear them, muffled sounds, you push your ear through the door

Luke talking about a casket and a golden fleece, the fleece you guys are looking for! What will Luke use it on?

"I can't hear anything!" Percy frustratingly says, Tyson pushes his ear through the door and speaks, he speaks in Luke's voice

"—the prophecies ourselves, those fools won't know which way to turn" Tyson says

He copied Luke's voice... You forgot cyclops can do that, how... Creepy.

Nevermind the visible uncomfortable tension that Tyson veiled on the you, Percy and for some reason especially Annabeth, Tyson continues to mimic voice, this time a deeper gruffer voice "you really think the old horseman is gone for good?"

You gasp, they are talking about Chiron, then Tyson laughed, it was Luke's laugh "They can't trust him anymore, not with the skeletons in his closet, the poisoning of Thalia's tree was the last straw"

Annabeth shivered, then she yelled "Tyson stop! That's creepy!", Tyson shrunk "I was just listening"

"keep listening" Percy says

Tyson closed his eyes again "—Quiet! I heard something, just outside the door" and before I could tell everyone to hide

Luke opened the door and saw us

A cyclops, a child of Aphrodite, Athena and Poseidon

"Percy! Anne! Long time no see... Who are these two?" Luke gestures to me and Tyson

Fuck.

______________________________

Bruce: I hope my baby is strong enough to complete their quest so we can reunite

(Name): I am so going to die here

@yunloyal @sirenetheblogger @00hellohello00 @spqce-bun @casspen-starlight @eyeless-kun @ghostdoodlen @ratchetprime211 @delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf @d3kstar @sheep-from-rad

[lockeswoodss]

The Crimson Glow: Chapter 2

Tag list: @nocturnalrorobin , @silas-aeiou , @mischiefsemimanaged , @wolfbc97 , @pocket-of-possibilities

A/N: So sorry this update took so long, but I'm finally done with the semester and am home free for the summer. This chapter has some mature themes, but nothing explicit yet. This chapter has a decent amount of filler; the reader will be in the Pitt in the next chapter. I'm gonna attempt to update weekly while I can.

Word count: ~4,680 (it kinda got away from me lol)

(Most future chapters will be closer to 3,000 words, I know over 4,000 is a commitment for one sitting)

Warning: Food, mentions of past cheating, and unspecified threats of violence, suggestive dialog (Jack calls the reader a good girl twice). (Let me know if I missed anything. This took over an hour to format/edit. I'm craving sleep.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your breath caught in your throat as you made eye contact with your soulmates. You found yourself looking up automatically, before the door was even fully pulled back, like your body knew. Like this was the final puzzle piece sliding into place to fill the void you had long been ignoring. Your eyes darted between them, lagging to take everything in. They both had lovely brown eyes. The shorter of the two had firm, dark brown eyes; they were steady and made you feel secure. He looked like he had just gotten out of bed in a rush. He was supporting himself on forearm crutches, wearing a pair of shorts and slides, a t-shirt thrown over his shoulder. You felt your face warm as you took in his toned bare chest. The glare of his dog tags was a blessed distraction. His hair was still flattened on one side, red creases still present on his face from the imprint of his pillow.

He had to have been the string across the Atlantic. The one who almost died.

Glancing higher, you were met with soft brown eyes; the kind that makes you feel warmth. There was another emotion there, one you couldn’t put words to, at least not yet. He was dressed in scrubs, with a lightweight hoodie on over them, a gold chain peeking out of his shirt collar. Your eyes locked on an ID badge still clipped to him. He was a doctor, a doctor at the same hospital that had hired you, PMTC. Somehow, that information had grounded you, pulling you out of the initial shock of your strings forming a glowing triangle.

“Um, hi?” you said hesitantly, trying not to immediately embarrass yourself, your face already warming under their combined gaze. Fuck, you knew you’d find your soulmates attractive, people rarely didn’t, but at a glance they were the definition of your type. From the stubble and grey curls of the veteran to the slight greying of the beard on the doctor, and his size compared to yours. It all, it all made you feel something. You tried to ignore the spark in your core from being near them. While it was perfectly normal for a soulmate greeting, it still made you feel a rush of embarrassment on the back of your neck.

“Hey,” the doctor exhaled, like a weight had been lifted off his chest. He gazes down at you with a warm smile, misty-eyed. His smile lines and crow’s feet widened your smile. You had always found creases that represented a life lived beautiful. When you glanced to your left, the soldier was already looking at you, seemingly done sizing you up.  

“I’m Jack,” he quipped before nodding to his left, “He’s Robby.”

It took you a second to process what he was saying, too caught up trying to quell your nerves. You quickly supplied your name, stumbling through it.

There was a beat of silence before your anxiety spiked again.

“Do you want to come in?” You asked, always a nervous talker. You stepped aside; they glanced at each other fleetingly before moving into your apartment.

“Sorry about the mess, I’ve only been in the city for-”

“Three hours?” The doctor, no, Robby supplied. “I noticed Jack and your strings overlapped at around 3ish.”

“Is that why you got off your shift on time?” Jack asked, quirking a brow.

“Yeah, but I was discreet, no one noticed outside of Dana,” Robby replied.

“You mean Dana was the only one to call you out?” Jack said, telling more than asking.

“I-Yeah, no that,” he sighed, running a hand down his face and took a breath, “That’s probably more accurate,”

“What department do you work in?” you asked.

“We both work in the emergency department.” Jack answered, “Attendings.”

You nodded, trying to school your face, as you debated if it was a good idea to tell them now that you’d be in the same hospital for work. You knew as soon as you told them your occupation that it’d click anyway. Their hospital was the closest to this apartment building, and this apartment building was the most affordable option in the immediate vicinity.

“What do you do for work?” Robby asked, segueing away from what, based on their tone, seemed to be a touchy subject.

“Oh, I’m an art therapist.” You answered, “I actually start PMTC on Monday.”

They shared a look that you couldn’t quite nail down. Hopefully it wasn’t anything bad.

“What department will you work in?” Jack asked.

“From what was explained to me, I would be flexing in different departments based on patient needs. Primarily, I’d be in the behavioral unit, inpatient rehabilitation, and pediatrics.” You answered. “While I start on Monday, I’m actually going to be going in tomorrow to get a tour and orientation so that I can hit the ground running on my first official day.”

“Okay,” Jack said, Robby and Jack shared another look, before letting out a breath/sigh. Normally, you wouldn’t pry, but the combination of your nervous mouth and quick observations had you blurting out your conclusion before entirely thinking it through.

“They don’t know about you two being soulmates, do they?” You asked. They shared yet another look, “Okay, you two need to knock it off with the looks.” You sighed, slightly frustrated, “I know we literally just met, and you don’t know me, but I’m not one to judge. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me into what’s going on so we can form a plan and set healthy boundaries.”

“Okay,” Robby replied, while Jack just nodded. Despite your age gap, it seemed like you were on equal footing, that being you were all equally at a loss.

“Are either of you hungry?”  You offered, hoping that a mild distraction would help make the talk go smoother.

“Have you already gone shopping?” Robby asked, confused.

“Oh, no, I just got way too much Thai takeout. I actually got so much to justify not going shopping til I’m unpacked.” You confessed with a laugh. Robby smiled in return, while Jack’s lip twitched, like he wasn’t all the way there yet to commit to fully taking off his mask. You smiled despite that. If your career had taught you anything, it was not to rush it. You could meet him where he’s at, at least for now. They both followed to the kitchen, not straying farther than an arm’s length away. You made quick work of unpacking the food. You were happy you got a soda and water bottles on the side to make packing it tomorrow easier. You heard a faint huff of a laugh behind you as you pulled out the third entrée.

“What?” you asked, giving Jack side-eye,

“Nothing, I just didn’t figure that you’d be feeding yourself and a small army.” He said, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“I may have been a little hungry when I was ordering.” You admitted pulling out an appetizer of dumplings and finally some Thai spring rolls, causing both of them to laugh, “Okay, maybe very hungry.” You said in your defense.

“I can see that,” Jack replied, smirk now fully present.

“Shut up,” you said, before he could comment as you pulled out five sets of plastic cutlery.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he answered, teasingly causing you to now be the flustered one.

“Are you ever gonna put on your shirt?” you said, trying to segue into something less embarrassing.

“Are you?” he shot back, causing you to pause and look down at your outfit.

“I’m wearing a shirt,” you said with a quirked brow, gesturing down at your crop top.

“Yeah, but it’s missing the other 60%,” he responded, taking a seat at your kitchen table, before sliding his shirt on.

You jokingly over dramatically rolled your eyes, before tossing him a water bottle and making a plate for him that he dictated from his spot, leaning his crutches against the table.

“Did you build all of this?” Robby asked, gesturing to your couch, coffee table, and TV.

“Oh, no, I just used a handyman that my friend Cleo knows. He was like half the rate of the guy the building manager suggested. Technically, my move-in date was last weekend, so he was able to assemble all the furniture over the past week, and he also helped me set up the TV and Wi-Fi. Which I’m grateful for because I’m terrible when it comes to tech stuff.” You answered, settling up next to Jack at the table.

“And all the plastic boxes?” Jack asked as Robby sat down across the table from you.

“Oh, since I was moving across the state from Philly, I hired movers. They use reusable boxes as a motivator to unpack everything. You pay a flat rate for two weeks, and then there’s a fine that gets added for every day you’re over. Which I definitely need. I was still finding boxes from the last time I moved when I was packing my apartment up.” You answered.

“Next time we move, you’re in charge,” Robby declared, before taking a large bite of one of the spring rolls. Only to stop mid-bite after realizing the implications of what he just said.

“I-I mean-” he tries to get out around the large bite, causing you to laugh.

“It’s okay, I know what you meant,” you said with a light smile. Jack bumps his shoulder into yours, drawing your attention.

“Next time let him sweat more,” Jack comments with a smirk, “He’s pretty when he blushes.”

“He could’ve choked,” you pointed out as Robby finally swallows his bite and takes a large swig of water.

“Never said he wouldn’t,” Jack paused to take a sip of his own water, “but for the record, he’s equally pretty when he chokes. You’ll never hear me complain about the sounds he makes.”

Robby choked on his water at the implication, causing a whine to pull from his throat, before he started coughing. Jack’s smirk widened. Your face heats up at how casual Jack is with it, especially considering they weren’t even out at work. But then again, you are their soulmate. Normally, you were apprehensive when men cop an attitude like that; it almost always felt like they were overcompensating. But Jack felt different, his personal brand of cockiness seemed earned; like he could back up his smugness in an instant. You wish he’d reel it in, though, as a flourish of warmth sparked in your core. It didn’t help that you were practically touching, to the point that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You cleared your throat and took a beat to build up the courage to continue your talk, heart palpitating.

“So, does anyone else you know aware that you’re romantic soulmates?” you asked.

“Only Dana and Jack’s therapist,” Robby said, glancing at Jack for confirmation. he nodded in response.

“Whose Dana?” you asked.

“She’s the charge nurse on day shifts.” Robby started, “She’s also our friend, but even if she wasn’t, she’s smart enough to figure it out.”

“Do you both work day shifts?” you asked.

“No, I’m on nights. I just have today off, normally I’m Robby’s relief.” Jack replied.

“Is that on purpose to keep up appearances?” you asked.

“It doesn’t hurt, but I’ve always preferred nights, and he prefers days. If there’s short staffing or an emergency, we normally work together.” Jack explained, and you nodded as you took another bite, trying to process everything to set up the best system. While you still yearned to be close to them, to the extent that Robby across the table from you felt too far, you didn’t want them to out themselves at work if they weren’t ready.

“So, if I’m ever in the emergency department, I should act like I don’t know either of you?” you asked, causing a silent pause to wash over the table. This time, you let go of them, glancing at each other before responding. It was a loaded question. You shifted nervously in your seat at the lack of response, before giving them reassurance.

“I’m okay with it for now if that’s what you’re worried about.” You said, “I just met both of you, but I know the dynamics of working in an environment like an emergency department is crucial to best serve people. Throwing off that rhythm can cost lives. I just want us to nail down a plan now so we’re all on the same page.”

“Jesus,” Robby exhales the breath, a look of admiration on his face as he meets your eyes, “How are you only 33?”

You tilt your head slightly, confusion clear on your face. Prompting Robby to continue.

“I could never dream of being that emotionally intelligent at your age,” he clarified, “Fuck, not to date myself, but with a 13-year head start I only pull that off half the time.”

Jack hummed in agreement, a small absent-minded smile gracing his lips when he looked at you.

“How do you know how old I am?” you asked, confused.

“That’s when the second sting appeared,” Robby answered, before continuing, “I was at temple for Yom Kippur, September 18th, 1991. It felt fitting on the day of atonement to receive another motivation to better myself.”

“It was a Wednesday, around 3, I had just been dismissed from school for the day and was in the locker room changing for football practice. When I held my helmet in my hands, I only had one string, and then after putting it on and adjusting it, I had two.” Jack added, mirroring Robby’s look.

“Oh,” you answered, slightly embarrassed. Of course, since you were the youngest, the strings have always been there for you.

“I’m only two years older than Jack, so I don’t remember a time when his string wasn’t there.” Robby explained, “It makes sense for you not to think about that if they’ve always been standard for you.”

Jack nodded in agreement, but that didn’t help the heart palpitations from your nervousness.

“So,” you said, attempting to get the conversation back on track, “We’re going with the plan that we act like we don’t know each other?”

“Maybe we can go with that, you’re our new neighbor?” Jack said, “It’d be an easy excuse if we wanted to walk you home, or why we know you at a base level.”

“Do they know you two moved in together?” You asked, curious about what was and was not known to the ED.

“They think we just moved in together since we have opposite schedules to save on rent,” Robby explained.

“Oh, so you have two bedrooms set up?” you asked, knowing that your one bedroom on the corner of the building was cheaper than other units.

“Yeah, don’t use it, but it’s there.” Jack nodded.

“Okay.” You nodded to yourself, “So no soulmate talk, other than to Dana if she asks?”

“Yeah,” Robby said. Jack nodded in agreement.

“K, outside of my brother Ben, and my friend Cleo, no one I currently know knows I have 2-strings. My parents ingrained it in me to only say I have 1.” You added.

“You have a brother?” Robby asked.

“Yeah, he’s my twin. He lives in London with my brother-in-law Dante, and their five-month-old son named Atlas.” You clarified. “Do either of you have siblings?”

“No,” Jack answered, before adding, “We both aren’t close to either of our remaining family members.

“I am close with my ex-girlfriend’s son, Jake. Her name is Janey. While we were dating, Jake and I got close to the extent that we agreed it’d be detrimental to him to cut me out when we split. He’s not close with his bio-dad.”

“Oh, so you filled that role?” you asked, with a smile. Robby found himself also smiling in return. Your tone was neutral and judgment-free, and you genuinely wanted to learn about him. Despite the importance of your conversation, talking to you was easy. He knew you were soulmates, but your warmth filled a part of him he wasn’t aware he needed. It was like his heart had expanded more to now be fully filled with the love blossoming in his chest. He hadn’t felt this sensation since meeting Jack. He was only pulled back to reality by the tilt of your head, waiting for a response.

“Y-yeah, I guess I did.” He nodded bashfully. Your smile widened at the blush developing on his face. Jack was right, he was pretty when he blushed.

“Jake’s a good kid,” Jack added. Your heart rate sped up again as he rested his arm on the back of your chair. Not touching, but close enough to satisfy the urge to hold you.

“Are you close with any family outside of Ben?” Jack asked.

“Oh, no, actually Ben and I went no contact almost a decade ago with our parents. They weren’t on board with his ‘lifestyle choices’; they blamed Dante for putting ideas in his head.” You sighed.

“That’s terrible, at least you had each other,” Robby said. Jack nodded, his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“I mean, yeah, it did at first, but in retrospect, we had been dealing with our parents’ discriminatory mindset our whole lives. It was just time to move on. The fucked-up part is that our parents actually expected me to be on their side.” You started, “I mean, I shared an egg with the guy, how could I not love him unconditionally?”

“You shared an egg with him?” Robby asked, confusion clear in his voice as he attempted to process what you were saying.

“Yeah, we’re identical twins.” You clarified, “Ben’s trans.”

A look of realization flashed on both of their faces at your omission.

“So, your parents weren’t okay with him being trans?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, they never cared about our soulmate(s) gender, you can’t control that. But they did believe that Ben being trans was his choice.” You explained, taking a deep breath to quell the negative emotions that began to well up inside you. You were jerked out of your headspace when Robby lightly gripped your hand and began to rub his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. A small smile graced your lips.

“Ben doesn’t care whether or not people know he’s trans. His biggest goal in life was to become a dad. He sacrificed a lot to achieve that. He had some fertility issues, which in turn meant putting off his own comfort of being able to transition. Atlas is the only reason he hasn’t medically transitioned yet. He’s waiting until he’s done weaning to take that step.” You explained.

“He’s lucky he has a sister like you,” Jack said, leaning his weight against your chair, face inches away from yours. Warmth filled your chest at his opinion.

“I think it’s the opposite, you can thank him for giving me the push to move across the state." You spoke.

“Was that the only reason you moved?” Robby asked.

“There were a few factors. I had a bad breakup twoish months ago, but I’ve wanted to get out of the city for longer. I applied for jobs across the northeast; I was actually between a job here and in Boston. I only ended up here because my friend Cleo lives here.” You explained.

“How bad was the breakup?” Jack asked.

“Pretty bad. She had been cheating on me for the majority of our close to two-year relationship, before I caught her and her ‘platonic’ soulmate in the act. Apparently, that’s just a fucked-up routine they have to ‘spice up’ their sex life. On top of that, she rubbed salt in the wound by saying she was only with me out of pity, because I was too old not to have found my soulmate yet.” You answered. Robby’s grip tightened in your hand, and Jack had inadvertently pulled your chair closer, knuckles white from his grip on your chair.

“And what was her name?” Jack asked.

“And address,” Robby tacked on.

“Social security wouldn’t hurt,” Jack said, jaw clenched.

You began to smile thinking they were joking around, until making eye contact with Robby he looked pissed. Your smile dropped.

Oh, they were serious.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture. I’m more of a forgive-but-remember kind of person. I was just happy I found out before I moved in with her.” You started, “I was also glad Ben was in England, he’s always been overprotective. I just want to be done with it, hence moving here.”

Neither of them seemed satisfied with your dismissal.

“When did you guys move in?” you asked, trying to dodge another bomb in this minefield of a conversation.

“Last weekend,” Robby answered, in an attempted neutral tone, his anger still shining through.

“Are you still in the unpacking phase?” you asked.

“No,” a ghost of a smile on Robby’s face, “took Jack two days to build and organize everything. We’re so efficient that we even had our first argument since moving in.”

“What was it about?” you asked.

“Apparently, I can’t fold clothing,” Robby replied.

“I never said you couldn’t fold clothing. Your attempt at crumpling a t-shirt into a ball was spot on.” Jack responded, and Robby rolled his eyes at him.

“You told me to ranger roll it, and it was a ball. I completed the task.” Robby argued.

“What’s a ranger roll?” you asked.

“It’s a folding technique so the clothing takes up the least amount of space. It’s how I fold clothing for my work bag.” Jack explained, “I use the pinch technique for my clothing going into the dresser.”

“What is a pinch technique?” you asked at a loss.

“Exactly,” Robby said exasperated.

“If you get me a shirt, I can show you,” Jack replied.

“K,” you said, standing up, “Do you want a full shirt or a 40%-er”

A small laugh escaped Jack. “Surprise me.”

You walked to your bedroom, unaware of the two sets of eyes locked on you.

“Fuck,” Robby exhaled.

“She’s better than anything I could have dreamt up,” Jack agreed, “She might be too nice though.”

Robby hummed in agreement. Their quick assessment mirrors their speed and accuracy at work.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on that. I don’t know what I’d do if someone tried to take advantage of her.” Jack said, clenching and unclenching his fist.

“I think we both know what would happen if her ex were here,” Robby commented as you reemerged from your bedroom.

“Agreed,” Jack said, turning to face you. You tossed him an oversized T-shirt. He quirked at the size.

“It’s a sleep shirt,” you answered the unasked question.

“So, your shirts are either normal, 150% too big, or only 40% there?” Jack asked.

“For the most part, I got a few that are less than 15%, but they’re just for going out.” You joked. You laughed at Jack's ‘Are you serious’ face.

“So, how do you do a pinch technique?” you asked. You watched him do it a few times before getting it down. You took a seat as Robby attempted and failed to fold the shirt right.

“Is this what older people do for fun?” you joked. Robby immediately dropped the shirt in a heap, ironically his best attempt yet, before snapping his head up.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you did not just call us old,” Robby said.

“I know you didn’t call me old.” Jack tacked on, while his tone was stern, he had an amused look in his eyes.

“And if I did?” you asked, teasingly.

“I can think of a few ways we could address it; Jack’s got no patience for brats,” Robby said, straightening up from his leaning position over the table.

“Probably let you off with a warning,” Jack started, smug look returning, “Wouldn’t want a good girl like you to be punished while figuring out your boundaries.”

You bit your inner cheek, trying your hardest to school your face, and not give away the warmth rushing to your face. You weren’t sure if it was just being called a good girl or Jack’s tone, but you could feel the spark in your core returning. Before you could respond, a yawn cut through you. Your eyes widened as you took in the time; what had felt like only minutes with your soulmates had been hours.

“Tired?” Robby asked.

“A bit,” you replied sheepishly, covering your mouth as you let out another yawn.

“When do you go in tomorrow?" Jack asked.

“I’m expected at 0700, I was planning on heading out around 0615 in case I get lost.” You explained.

“I can walk you in if you want. Unless I’m called in earlier, I normally start at 0700 too.” Robby offered.

“That’d be great,” you smiled, fatigue from your cross-state drive finally catching up with you, your eyes beginning to droop.

“Not to be presumptuous, but would you like to sleep over at ours?” Robby asked. You waited for a beat as you internally argued whether it’d be too clingy to want that.

“If it’s okay with both of you, I’d love that,” you replied.

“Of course that’s okay, fuck I think we’d both prefer it,” Robby said, glancing at Jack, who nodded.

“I don’t think I’d be able to sleep without having eyes on you,” Jack answered honestly.

“K, I’m just gonna brush my teeth and change clothing.” You said, pushing yourself back from the table. In what felt like seconds, you found yourself standing pensively at the foot of their king-sized bed. Jack was finishing up his nightly routine when you entered the bedroom. Would it be too presumptuous to think you were sharing the bed? Did they want something more, or were you just going to sleep? Before you could fully spiral, Robby interrupted your internal argument.

“Com’ere,” he said, pulling back the covers, “Do you have a side you prefer sleeping on?”

“Um, would it-would it be okay if I were in the middle?” you asked, looking up at Robby. His brown eyes softened, and a smile bloomed on his face.

“Of course, Honey.” He answered, fully folding back the covers so you could slip in. While you were getting situated, Robby stripped down to his boxers and passed Jack as he disappeared into their bathroom. Jack greeted you with a soft smile as he sat down and leaned his crutches in a nook between the bed and his bedside table. He slipped out of his shirt before maneuvering himself under the covers to face you.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his minty breath washing over your face. You nodded in response.

“Baby, when I ask you a question, I want a verbal answer.” He said gently, but firmly.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, you could feel his eyes rake over you.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, and you broke eye contact.

“Could we cuddle?” you asked nervously. Jack gently cupped your face, forcing eye contact.

“Of course we can cuddle,” he said with a small smile, before pecking your forehead. Still flustered by the whole conversation, you rolled over facing Robby’s side. Jack’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you back flush against his warm chest.

“Is this alright?” he asked into your ear. His hot breath fanned out onto the back of your neck. You contained a shiver, before nodding your head.

“Yeah,” you answered quickly, forgetting about the expectation he had just told you.

“Good girl,” he whispered into your ear. Causing your breath to hitch, face heating up once more, these men would be the death of you. A smile spread across Robby’s face when he took you and Jack in as he circled around to his side and slid under the covers.

“Is this okay?” he asked, front flush with yours, one of his long arms wrapped around Jack’s waist behind you.

“Yeah,” you replied quietly. You hid your face in his chest, not to give away how okay you were with it.

“Night,” he said, pecking the crown of your head.

“Night,” you and Jack echoed contently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for taking the time to read ^-^

Very excited to write about the reader's first time in the Pitt in the next chapter. I'm hyped for them to meet Dana. Hope you're doing well wherever you're at 💛

I will have a master list for this blog made tomorrow, I just need to sleep first lol

Chapter 3 Part I: here

Back To Chapter 1: here

[ckret2]

The second dimension has burned, all its neighbors are burning, Bill's mutated Dimension Zero into some sort of non-euclidean horror land where he's setting up a ghoulish undead kingdom and pretending that he's fine, and every five minutes the Axolotl sees something new he's gonna have nightmares about for the next billion years.

Naturally, the gods of the multiverse have got to do something:

Make sure the non-euclidean horror land complies with local construction codes.

Here, have a fic. 

This is part 4 of a series about the Axolotl—and various local gods—trying to figure out how to deal with the aftermath of what will one day be called the Euclidean Massacre. Here are parts one, two, and three.

####

As the Time Giant inspected Dimension Zero, she took a dizzying array of measurements and performed several tests on the unstable cosmic foam that seemingly made up the dimension. To the Axolotl's untrained eye, the tests looked more like alchemy than engineering. She even momentarily popped out to a point in her timeline when she was in her office to pick up some more specialized equipment.

Dimension Zero operated like an omnidirectional treadmill, the Axolotl discovered; if you flew far enough to the left, you ended up looping around to the right, far enough up and you ended up down, far enough forward and you ended up in the back. The distances were vast, certainly, but finite. Which meant that finding the "edge" of Dimension Zero to escape it was near impossible—it had no edges. The Axolotl was amazed at his luck in having successfully found an exit the last time he was in here. Locating the border of this impossible dimension was like navigating a four-dimensional labyrinth.

But apparently the Time Giant was very good at navigating labyrinths, because again and again she effortlessly located Dimension Zero's border. It was like a thin layer of incorporeal cellophane you could move straight through without leaving Dimension Zero; but if you looked at it just right, from just the right time and place, it became real, and you saw through it into the neighboring dimensions. She spent a long time grimly examining the burning first and second dimensions "above" Dimension Zero—and a long time inspecting the places where the neighboring dimensions had already been incinerated completely, and Dimension Zero bloated out toward the third dimensions like an overfilled trash bag. 

And meanwhile, the "Magister Mentium," de facto ruler of this grotesque domain, decided that while he was waiting for news, the most magisterial thing he could do was returned to his party.

To the Axolotl's amazement, the triangle did actually seem to be dancing with his people. There was still some intelligence in some of the living and the dying-but-never-dead shapes.

Some of them knew a dance that involve interlacing their fingers, right hands to right hands, and whirling together around their joined grip, then switching to lace their left hands together and twirl the other way; and the triangle couldn't be puppeting them—not all of them, not all the time—because sometimes his dance partners were the ones who got the steps right while he fumbled the timing. The Axolotl watched as he missed grabbing a line's hand because he'd somehow gotten slightly skewed into the third dimension and his hand went over hers instead; she teasingly jabbed him in the side with her point, and in retaliation he knocked into her with one of his lower corners and snapped her in half; with a wave of his hand she was repaired and bewildered. In his shock, the Axolotl hadn't seen it the last time he'd been here—but the triangle's eternal dance party was both the horror of a root system digging deep into rotting flesh, and the hope of a flower blooming from an unmarked grave. How many of the dancers were voluntarily dancing forever? 

He didn't have an opportunity to find out. When the Time Giant had finished her inspection, she waved over the triangle again. (Not that she needed to; in spite of being back at the party, he'd also somehow remained at the Time Giant's elbow the whole time, watching what she did without blinking.) "All right, I've got the verdict on your dimension. Do you wanna start with the bad news, the worse news, or the ugly news?"

"Ease me into it," the triangle said. "So what's the matter with my dream realm?"

"The matter."

"That's what I'm asking."

"The matter's what's the matter with it."

"What?"

"Every reading I've taken indicates there's a dimension's worth of matter in here. The mass is here for it, all right. I'm picking it up no problem. I just can't find your matter." She gestured out at the infinite dance party, the swirling colors, the twinkling faraway lights, "Everything visible adds up to so little matter that I didn't even bring any tools sensitive enough to register it. It doesn't account for all the mass I'm measuring."

He surveyed the view warily. "So you're saying my place's mass is... what, invisible?"

"Invisible, stuck in pocket dimensions...  Y'all said any rubble left over from Dimension 2 Delta would've fallen in here, right? You got it hidden away somewhere?"

His eye lit up. "Oh! Are you looking for this?" He pulled a tall black hat out from seemingly nowhere and reached his arm all the way down into it to pull out a speck of dust: radiating blinding light in every direction, but so dark that staring into it made the Axolotl feel like his eyes were being sucked out of his skull into a black hole. "This is 2Δ's matter."

"Is that all that's left?"

"The whole shebang!"

"Then nah, that's not it. If that had all the matter of a dimension, and it was that small. it'd be the nuke of nukes. The seed of a Big Bang. All it'd take is a dimension's worth of energy to thaw that turkey, and pfft! You've got a baby dimension on your hands." She gestured dismissively at the speck, "No way a mortal could handle an object like that without its gravity crushing you—never mind have the energy to move it."

The triangle stared down at his little pearl of matter. "Huh." It was an oddly intense stare for just a fleck of dust.

"If you don't know where all the hidden matter is, then ten to one odds, you've got a dark matter problem," the Time Giant said. "Nasty stuff. It'll exponentially speed up the heat death of your dimension. You'll have to get a specialist in here to see if there's anything you can do about that dark matter. You want referrals?"

He was silent for a moment, still not looking up; then he said, "No, no—I don't need them." He stuffed the speck back into his hat, tossed aside the party hat he'd been wearing, and put on the black one. "I'm a DIY kind of triangle! I'll figure out what dark matter is."

The Time Giant snorted. "Suit yourself. Problem two: this dimension's a singularity. A really big, spread out singularity, which by the definition of a singularity is impossible—"

"We like impossible around here!"

"Uh huh, I can tell. But it means things that should be separate things are crushed together into one thing—including the landscape and the mindscape. Dreams and reality are occurring on the same level of existence. There's no clear distinction between facts and fiction."

"Okay," he said. "So, is that a problem, or...?"

"For starters," she jerked a thumb toward the distant-and-yet-somehow-ever-present dance party, "it means that the dead and the living are on the same plane. Can't separate life from an afterlife here. And it means anything could happen just by imagining it too hard. Some traumatized vet gets war flashbacks? The war's actually happening again. Have a nightmare about your wife dying? Your wife's dead. If everyone stops thinking about a building for a moment, it could stop existing. Contracts are useless—what you think you remembered them saying becomes what they actually said."

"So, is that a problem, orrr...?"

She paused. "Shoot, it's your universe. If you're fine with it, whatever."

"I call it the dream realm for a reason!"

"Issue three's the ugly one: this dimension's completely unstable," the Time Giant said.

"Yeah, I know," the triangle sighed. "The electromagnetism..."

"The electromagnetism ain't the half of it. I mean it is really unstable. I don't know how it's lasted as long as it has. I can see half a dozen ways the dimension could completely collapse on itself in the next ten minutes."

"What! Where?!"

She pointed. "For one thing, a whole pillar of spacetime right there is about to implode and form a wormhole."

He zoomed over to the pillar, multiplying into a dozen copies to examine it from every angle. (He looked the same small size as always, but the Axolotl realized that with the distance the pillar was at, he must be lightyears across to be visible from here—either that, or somehow he hadn't gotten any further away. The triangle shouldn't even visible when the light from his position shouldn't reach them for thousands of years. A realm that operated on dream logic.)

While he inspected the unstable structure, the Time Giant said, "Nothing about the structure of this place is self-sustaining. It should've collapsed back into a singularity as soon as 2Δ fell in. I got no idea how it just keeps propping itself back up..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it," the triangle snapped.

The Time Giant paused. "What?"

"I'm working on it! I'd be working on it right now if you hadn't dragged me away from the party!" The nearest iteration of the triangle groaned, dragging his eyelid down with his hands. "I've been spending ages trying to keep this stupid leaky balloon inflated, and now look at this!" He gestured in exasperation at the pillar preparing to wormhole itself. "I have to start again! Do you know how many times I've tried to fold the... the dumb... the plane?" He tried to pantomime the act of folding something with his hands; as he did, apparently without noticing what he was doing, he folded himself up, like a triangular origami paper. "Fold it in a way that'll get it to stay put? And it just won't! It keeps flopping over! It's driving me nuts!"

"The 'plane'?" 

He unfolded himself with a sharp snap. "You know what I'm talking about! The plane! The plane that everything's made out of! The..." Frustrated, the triangle grabbed a wad of existence itself and shook it in the Time Giant's and Axolotl's faces. "This stuff!"

"The fabric of reality?" the Time Giant asked, flummoxed. "You can detect the fabric of reality? You can interactwith it?"

"Is that what it is?" He flung it down in disgust. "Well, it won't stay put when I fold it!"

"Yeah, fabric tends not to do that."

"Right. Right." Grimly, the triangle said, "I need the starch of reality."

"Don't starch reality."

He flung up his hands in defeat. "Well, I've tried everything else!"

Softly, the Time Giant said, "Huh." As if she'd just figured out the answer to a question she hadn't even had a chance to ask.

On the other hand, the Axolotl just had more questions. He may not know very much about the fabric of reality, but... well, that was just the thing. He didn't know much about the fabric of reality. Sure, if he ran into a fraying timeline he could tie up the loose ends and snip off the damaged threads; he could summon up his pocket afterlife at any time, opening a liminal space into his tank from anywhere in the multiverse; but that was the most complex thing he could manage by himself. He certainly didn't know enough to do anything as complicated as keep an unstable dimension from imploding on itself.

But he did know that he didn't know nearly enough for it to be safe for him to even try... and he at least knew what the fabric of reality was. For someone even more ignorant than him to try it...

The Time Giant asked, "Didn'cha... say you're a mortal?"

"Yeah?" the triangle said defensively. He didn't even waste time looking at them; his full focus was back on the pillar, which was beginning to twist around itself. "Last I checked? And?"

She held up her hands. "S'fine. Nothing wrong with that."

Just before the pillar could fully transform into a wormhole, the triangle muttered irritably to himself and snapped his fingers. The pillar inverted like a flower bud turning inside-out. There was an infinitely vast creaking groan—but nevertheless, this immediately solved the pending wormhole issue. And also promptly caused four more things to go catastrophically wrong.

The triangle let out a strangled scream of frustration as half the firmament inverted colors and the stars glowed black. "No no no no no—!" He skidded across existence to the reversed sky, a thousand hands trying to twist the stars back on before the damage spread; another copy of him was knitting closed a rapidly unraveling corner of reality with his own arms as the thread; and the Axolotl wasn't sure what the other dozen shining yellow triangles he saw whizzing by were doing, but a ringing sound he hadn't previously noticed suddenly stopped.

Throughout Dimension Zero, there was a grinding, rumbling noise that filled all of existence. The Axolotl and Time Giant both flinched at a couple of great, splintering cracking noises, so deep that they were felt rather than heard. From every direction, the Axolotl could see soot and souls rain into the dimension. The Time Giant watched the grisly rain, jaw slack in amazement.

The Axolotl saw black hands catch the souls as they fell.

In a moment the triangle was back, looking a little worse for the wear: twitchy, dazed, eye dilated too wide, clearly even more distracted than he'd been a minute ago. He didn't look exhausted, per se—the Axolotl thought he should look exhausted—but it uncomfortably dawned on him that, if the triangle was powerful enough to knit the fabric of reality back together despite not even knowing what the fabric of reality was... maybe he was too powerful to get exhausted.

Where had a mortal gotten that power?

The triangle let out a heavy sigh. "Okay—"

And then a nearby star immediately collapsed into a black hole and started slurping down the raw fabric of reality rather than any of the regular matter hovering just outside its event horizon.

He froze a moment, eye squeezed shut in an expression of pure agony; and then he was zipping across the dimension again to fix one more crisis.

All this time, the Axolotl had thought the triangle was inebriated. He wasn't inebriated at all. It was pain. He had to be near delirious with pain, struggling to control everything without a moment's rest. Weaving back and forth and popping here and there across the dimension as he tweaked and fixed small crises before they became large ones, trying to convince himself that he was at a party as he danced frenziedly with his ever-dying people even as he simultaneously knit and taped and stapled existence back together with his own body. Every time they'd spoken to him, he'd been distracted. They were distracting him from keeping his entire reality from falling apart.

The Time Giant watched him zoom around with her thumbs hooked in her belt and a grin across her face. "Man. I wanna set you loose in an infinite hardware store and see what you do with it."

The triangle gave her an unamused, dead-eyed look. (And somewhere else, he was also picking up the black hole, eyeing it tiredly, and finally just punting it in a random direction. Existence rumbled again.)  "Hey, if you know a hardware store that's got whatever it'll take to keep this place from falling to pieces, and you think you can babysit the dream realm until I'm back...

Her smile faded. "Don't think that's gonna work."

He was immediately on his guard. "Oh?"

"That's what I was trying to explain: it's not just your dimension that's unstable; it's destabilizing all the dimensions around it, too."

He flung up his hands exasperatedly. Pale blue flames ignited around his hands. "Yeah, I know!" He hastily shook out the flames on his fingers as he said, "Tell the neighbors to keep their stupid pants on, I'm working on getting this place stable—" (The Axolotl stared at his hands long after the flames were gone.)

"No, you don't get it," she said. "Trying to stabilize it is what's destabilizing the other dimensions."

He paused. "What are you talking about."

"This 'dream realm' is supposed to be a singularity in an empty void at the bottom of everything. The dimensions above are designed to support the higher dimensions weighing down on them without collapsing. They're not structured to take pressure pushing up on them from below." The Time Giant gestured around at Dimension Zero, "And that's what we've got now! Your renovations have filled up the void. That's where that grinding when you 'move' is coming from: every time you try to prop up this dimension, it crashes against all the neighbors—and they push back and destabilize you again. Just based on what little I saw when I was checking the place out, the other second dimensions must be taking heavy damage. We're talking planes fracturing apart, physics destabilizing, wormholes, temperature fluctuations from absolute zero to near Big Bang-level heat—"

"And fires," the Axolotl said in realization, remembering the ashes he'd seen raining into Dimension Zero when the triangle had fixed the wormhole. "The dimensions that were around 2Δ are burning. Nobody could figure out why we couldn't get them under control. It was you."

All of Dimension Zero fell several degrees colder.

The music faltered. The distant dancers that could stop did, shaken out of their trances to look around for their magister. For a moment, the Axolotl could hear the dimension's hissing background radiation almost clearly enough to understand what it was saying—whispers, they were whispers, the Axolotl hadn't been imagining that they sounded like voices. They really were.

He thought he could hear screams in the whispers.

The triangle stared at them, eye wide and empty.

The Time Giant gave him a moment. "You good?"

"No, I— Yes, of course I'm good! I'm great!" He squeezed his eye shut and rubbed it harshly between his thumb and forefinger. He did not look great. "I'm not destroying any dimensions, that's insane! You're insane!" His voice was rising toward a shriek. "Nothing's on fire! I don't know what you're talking about! How would you know?! I heard you out there early, the rest of you are—what, what are you doing, arguing about whose district the ashes are in?! Trying to shift the blame to each other instead of doing anything? And meanwhile I've been here all this time! I'm the only one fixing anything! I'm the one who's been liberating my people from their stupid flat little dimensions before the apocalypse can reach them, so—what do you know about anything here!"

"'Liberating'?" the Time Giant said. "What in the multiverse are you talking about?" The Axolotl's stomach sank.

"You think I can't see out of this place?" He drew them closer and closer as Dimension Zero moved around them and grew larger and larger as he spoke, forcing them to look up at him. "You think I haven't noticed my people out there dying while you big shot so-called 'gods' stand around and watch?! I can see through all their eyes! I see everything! I feel it when they die! I've been the only one saving them!"

As clear as if it were real, the Axolotl saw his memory of Dimension 2 Epsilon burning. (The Time Giant sucked in a breath—the way the mindscape worked here, could she see his memory too? Could the triangle?) The shapes spontaneously combusting and plummeting into Dimension Zero. Reality seeming to twist around them, grasp them, crush them. He saw a frightened green triangle—except for the color, a triangle so like the Magister Mentium as he'd been on the day he met the "eclipse," young and small and terrified of the cosmic forces around him—crushed and burned in the folds of the fabric of reality. Only the shapes were taken—none of the creatures around them. The triangle's people. "You're not saving anyone! You're the one killing them!"

The triangle blazed red in rage.

Everything ignited. Searing, white-hot pain. The fire was on the Axolotl's skin, in his eyes, in his gills, inside his body. He felt the voices in the cosmic radiation screaming.

Everything unignited. The Axolotl was unharmed. (Was it a hallucination? A dream? Had it been too brief to leave damage?)

The Time Giant was holding the Axolotl in front of her chest like a big plushie shield.

The triangle was small and black and still. White light traced his edges like the halo around a black hole. He didn't say anything.

He was staring at the Axolotl's memory. And the Axolotl could see the triangle's memory: from above, the plane of Dimension 2 Epsilon melted and folded around a small frightened green triangle, crushing and burning it within the fabric of reality; from below the plane, a trembling black hand reached up, stretching into the fabric of 2Ε like it was a glove, trying so hard, so carefully to catch and cradle the other triangle before it fell, confused when the fingers opened and once again all that was left in the palm was ashes.

Both memories burned up and vanished.

The Axolotl shook himself free of the Time Giant's grip and cautiously swam closer to the triangle. "Magister...?"

The universe quietly moved, carrying the Axolotl and the Time Giant away and rotating around the triangle so they were placed behind him. Okay, fine. He'd wait.

When the triangle finally spoke again, his voice was hoarse and flat. "I can't just stop fixing the dream realm. It'll collapse on us." He turned slowly to face the Time Giant. His color was starting to come back. "You've got some kind of... divine home renovation crew that can repair everything?"

She shook her head. "Sorry. I still had some hope for this place when I thought it was banging against the neighbors when it was collapsing. But if fixing it is what's breaking everything... There's nothing we can do."

"Some god," the triangle muttered ruefully. "So... what are we supposed to do."

"Honestly? This void was never built to support a dimension. Best idea is to leave and set up your dancing hippie colony somewhere else," the Time Giant said. "The third dimension next to where 2Δ used to be is swarming with refugee services; if I were you, I'd talk to the guy with the planets to set you up somewhere until you can move into another dimension."

That snapped him out of his funk. "Are you kidding? I'd rather keep fixing this place for an eternity! We sacrificed everything to reach our paradise. We're not about to ditch it now!"

The Time Giant took in the wretched floating dance party huddled together in a lonely, landless, kaleidoscopic void, and silently mouthed, paradise. She shook her head and moved on. "Well, you can't keep this place even if you wanna. It's impossible to get this place up to cosmic construction code."

"Who cares about the code!" He zipped up to her face, hands outstretched to her beseechingly. "Can't you let it slide? I am willing to bribe you. Just tell me what it'll take!"

"Buddy." Her voice took on a steely edge. "The cosmic construction code defines how every dimension in the multiverse has to be built. It exists because any dimension that doesn't meet the code could destroy all of existence." (His eye widened.) "Your 'paradise' doesn't fit in the crawlspace beneath dimensions. One of two things will happen: eventually, you fail to stabilize it, it collapses in on itself, and everyone in here ceases to exist... or, you do stabilize it, and it destabilizes every dimension built above it, and the entire multiverse collapses in on itself—including your 'dream realm.' You like either of those options?"

The triangle's hands drooped helplessly. "I... But th... After all w... I can't..."

He fell silent. His light sank back toward black.

This triangle had made himself the leader of these people, he couldn't abandon them now. The Axolotl wasn't about to watch him lose himself in despair.

"Would you let your people die like that?" He circled behind the triangle, forcing him to turn to face the Axolotl—and face his people at the same time. "You said you liberated them." As misguided as he had been—and even if few of them, maybe none of them, were actually his people—it had to be an act of love, didn't it? He had to care about them, didn't he? "After everything you did to save them, do you want to lose them now?"

The triangle glanced at the shapes, and quickly looked away. "I..."

"Look at them," the Axolotl commanded. 

He looked at them.

Slowly, he floated over his eternal dance party. To the Axolotl's surprise, several of the clear-headed ones who had stopped dancing—the haggard, the ever-bleeding, the newer arrivals that were ever-burning—stretched their hands up toward him.

The triangle flinched, ever so slightly—just a twitch in his hands—and then he reached down to them in return. The line that the Axolotl had seen dancing with the triangle earlier brushed his fingertips; he stopped to squeeze her hand as he passed.

The Axolotl could see the guilt radiating out of the triangle.

He didn't know how he knew it was guilt. He didn't even know how he could see it—it had no color, no shape. Nevertheless, he saw it. The guilt spread out like ink in water, poisoning Dimension Zero, clinging to every surface. The Axolotl's skin was unusually sensitive to toxins; the guilt made him queasy.

One of the shapes asked the triangle something; the Axolotl couldn't hear the question, just the triangle's quiet answer: "Nah, don't worry about those losers. A few higher-dimensional beings got mad we liberated ourselves. They hate to see the second dimension winning. It's fine, I can kick their bases if they try to make any trouble."

(The Time Giant snorted. The Axolotl wasn't sure it was an empty threat.)

"Now why isn't everyone dancing! C'mon, chop chop, this is a celebration! I wanna see everyone shaking their sides! Talking to you, Graham!" The triangle raised a hand, threateningly preparing to snap his fingers; before he had to, all the shapes were dancing again, as enthusiastically/fearfully as ever.

He watched his people for a moment longer.

And then turned to the Time Giant and the Axolotl. "Okay," he said. "I'll talk to the guy with the planets."

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 4 of a 7-or-8 part fic that keeps getting more parts, about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl slowly discover just how much of a monster that silly triangle he likes really is.

It's ALSO chapter 64 of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: the great thing about this plot is that almost every chapter has a new terrible reveal about what Bill's up to! Looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts on this latest bunch of revelations. Depending on how I split things up, next week might be another more low-key chapter to set up further horrors.

Nobody asked but the line Bill was dancing with is named Lynn Segment, and the Graham he spoke to is a quadrilateral with two older siblings: Perry, Lilo, & Graham. What's the point of making geometric shape characters if you aren't giving them pun names.)

[v4mptel]

Break. Bite. Bang.

pairings: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

summary: What happens when you persuade your boyfriend to try the break bite bang challenge with you?

nsfw!

“Come on Toruuu. Just one bite, for me?” you pleaded softly as you looked at your boyfriend with your best puppy eyes. Satoru looked at the square piece of milk chocolate you were holding as if inspecting it. It was smooth apart from the diagonal line that connected the opposite corners of the square which implied that you had to cut it in half and share it with your partner.

This specific chocolate was viral on the internet, you'd seen it! Every couple would split it in half, eat it, and then they would fuck like they were in heat. It mesmerised you really, how a small piece of chocolate could be such a strong aphrodisiac. From the little research you'd done before you decided to buy it, it didn't always work but when it did? Oh boy, you'd read one comment saying it had been the best sex they ever had!

So it wouldn't hurt to try it just once right? Just out of curiosity. It'd be a fun little experiment.

Satoru sighed as he leaned back on the couch, his gaze now locking with yours. “Do we always have to try every little thing you see on the internet?” he questioned in a calm tone, with a hint of playfulness as the slightest smirk formed on the corner of his mouth. One of his hands toying with a lock of your soft hair.

You giggled softly as you straddled his lap, his hands instinctively resting on your hips. You smiled playfully at him. “Yeah because I'm your girlfriend and you love me?” you presented the chocolate to him again.

“Baby you're not even sure if it's gonna wor–” you cut him off, silencing him with a quick peck on his soft lips. “You won't know if you don't try it.” you practically shoved the chocolate into his face.

Satoru sighed in defeat. “Alright pretty, let's do it.” he gave a gentle squeeze on your hips before gripping the chocolate by the opposite corner you were holding. You both cut it in half at the same time and now each one of you held a sweet little triangle.

You both ate it. “Do you feel anything weird?” you mumbled impatiently as you kept chewing. Satoru shook his head. “It's probably gonna take some time to work, if it works.”

One hour passed and nothing happened. You eventually gave up on your hopes pouting in that adorable manner that Satoru loved. With a soft, teasing “I told you so.” he picked you up heading straight to the bedroom. It was time for bed anyway and you slept like a baby in his warm embrace.

–

When you stirred awake again it was still nighttime. The first thing you felt was the way your body was burning up. Your sensitive nipples were now hard enough to pierce through your thin cotton sleep shirt. Your pussy drenched with your slick juices, throbbing with need.

As you slowly opened your eyes and you came to your senses, that's when you felt Satoru's grip on your waist tightening. That's when you felt his hard cock grinding on your ass from behind. That's when you heard how whiny and how needy his moans were, right next to your ear.

“F-fuck…mmph! Baby? Please pretty, please wake up I– nngh! Need you…” he pleaded almost breathlessly as he kept grinding his dick between your ass cheeks.

And when you turned to face him over your shoulder? You swore the delicious sight could make you come untouched. More slick escaped your pussy as you saw his desperate gaze. His eyes were teary, his face and chest flushed with a beautiful rosy pink. Snowy hair all sweaty and sticking to his forehead.

You grinded back into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as your need increased by the second. “Toruuu! I think it- hmmp! It w-worked- ohh!”

“Ohh, baby…worked is an understatement. I'm so hard it fucking h-hurts!” he whined.

“Please Toru, please fuck–need you in me!” you pleaded with equal desperation. You didn't have to ask twice. In a matter of seconds your panties and pajama shorts were off, discarded somewhere on the floor joining your boyfriend's clothes.

His muscular arms held you from your soft plush thighs. In one hard, deep thrust he slammed home. “Baby!” his high pitched moans echoed all over the house as he thrusted into your tight heat again and again. The feeling of your warm puffy pussy enveloping his dick was an extraordinary feeling. One that he'd swore he'd never get used to.

“plap plap plap!” his balls slapped the bottom of your ass cheeks as he stretched you open. His girthy meaty cock hitting all the right spots inside your gummy walls. Your eyes teared up, the pleasure too intense.

“That damn chocolate– oh!!” Satoru moaned as he kept slamming into you. “Shit baby! Sweetheart you feel…” his heart eyes teared up again “so” thrust. “fucking” thrust. “good!” thrust.

Your brows furrowed in pleasure, your plump lips forming a slutty “O” as you finally cried out. “Toruuu! Toru there- hhmmp! Right- there, yes!” and when you thought his thrusts couldn't get any harder your boyfriend proved you wrong.

His pace was now absolutely brutal, hitting your most sensitive spot again and again. Your pussy eagerly sucking his cock like a champ. “Shit b–baby! You're gonna kill me!” poor Satoru whined as he felt your gummy walls clenching, a sign that your orgasm was near.

“I'm close! S’close Toruuu! Don't…stop.” he crashed his lips into yours as he kept up the pace. Your tongues tangled as his hands moved from your thighs to your soft hips, holding you tightly before bringing your whole body towards him to meet his thrusts.

Satoru pulled back, breathing heavily. “Cum for me baby.” he cooed as he licked the drool that had gathered in the corner of your mouth from your makeout session. And then he pulled all the way out before -plap!- slamming back inside in an extremely hard thrust jolting the whole bed forward, the wood hitting on the wall.

That finally undid you. Your orgasm washed over you like a hot white bliss. Your back arched like a cat, your toes curling. You let out the most pornographic moan as your pussy drenched your boyfriend's dick with your delicious juices.

Your fucked out, cock drunk face along with the way your cunt was spasming around his dick was Satoru's undoing. With one final thrust his mushroomy tip french kissed your cervix filling you up with his warm sticky seed. “Fuck…look at her taking it all.” he whimpered looking down with teary eyes at where your pussy milked his cock for all it's worth.

Satoru didn't move. He stayed inside you as you both took your sweet time catching your breaths. Both looking at each other with those lovey dovey eyes drunk in love and lust.

“See? I told you,” you took a breath “told you it was gonna work.” you smiled looking up at him with your soft gaze.

“You’re crazy…” he exhaled, his built muscular chest heaved as he attempted to steady his breathing. “I thought my dick was gonna fall off.” His admission makes you chuckle despite the situation.

“What are you laughing at, pretty? Hm?” He teased you as he gently pulled out of you and tickled your belly making you all giggly and squirmy.

It was only after all your laughing quieted down that Satoru looked at you with a worried expression.

“I'm hard again.” poor baby sounded horrified.

And that's when everything clicked. “Fuck” you thought as you stared at your boyfriend's cock that was indeed twitching with need once again. You probably should have payed attention to the back of the package, specifically the little red sign warning the customers about how many hours the effect of the chocolate could last.

It was gonna be a long night.

[demie90s]

For my pookie: @xxsnowxx213

Do Better

Nika Mühl x fem!reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: You okay for UConn you’re dating someone from South Carolina—publicly. But privately? Nika’s been pushing her luck.

Genre: Sapphic sports drama, one-sided relationship angst, love-triangle tension, flirtation, jealousy, trash talk with feelings

Warnings: Profanity, possessive behavior, heavy flirtation, toxic relationship dynamics, aggressive competition, mic’d up chaos

Word Count: ~ 2.5k

I don’t even remember when it started. The spoiling. The touching. The whispering shit she had no business saying. It just… became routine.

Nika don’t ask. She does. You say you like something once—boom, it’s yours. You frown after practice—there’s a smoothie on your chair. You mention being sore—she’s got magnesium lotion in her locker for “team recovery,” like we all dumb enough to think it’s for everybody.

And it’s not just gifts. It’s her. Her presence. The way she carries herself like she got nothing to prove and everything to offer. The way she leans into me during film like I’m made of gravity. The way her voice drops when we’re alone, soft and smug, like she’s telling me secrets just to watch me squirm.

She don’t like my girl. At all. I got a girlfriend. She’s not at UConn—she plays for South Carolina. We see each other when we can. Text. FaceTime. Try to make it work. But lately? It’s been… exhausting.

She always got something to say.

“You don’t post me enough.”

“You always around Nika.”

“Be honest—are you cheating?”

Like clockwork. And I’m not. Technically. But she don’t trust me. Or maybe she does—she just don’t trust Nika.

Which is fair.

Because Nika doesn’t even try to be subtle. She’ll post a pic of me holding flowers with no caption. Zoom in on our hands in the back of a team photo. Tag me in her story just to piss my girl off and leave the tag public.

“Oops,” she’ll say when I call her out. But she’s not sorry.

Not when she tells me I deserve better. Not when she leans in during team Lives and brushes my hair out of my face like she owns me. Not when she catches my eye across the gym and raises her brow just to see if I’ll look away first.

I never do. She calls me soft. Says I get quiet when I’m being pulled in too many directions.

“You should let go of what’s draining you,” she tells me one night. “You’d glow more.”

She’s not wrong.

The real set-up started the night before our game against South Carolina.

We get to the hotel, dragging our gear, group chat blowing up, people clowning about who got what room. Geno claps his hands and starts reading off pairings like this is a damn sorority retreat.

I’m half listening—until I hear my name.

“Y/n and… Nika.” I look up. Nika’s already looking at me. Smiling like the devil himself just gave her permission.

She doesn’t say anything. Just shrugs and grabs her bag. I swear her steps get lighter the moment she realizes we’re roomed together. Like her prayers got answered and mine just got cancelled.

My phone buzzes. My girlfriend. I already know what it’s gonna say before I even open it.

“So y’all rooming together now? Lmao okay.”

“Don’t get too comfortable.”

“You know how that look, right?”

I throw the phone on the bed. Lay flat. Let out a sigh. Cause how tf….never mind.

Nika’s unzipping her suitcase like nothing’s wrong. “She mad already?”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” I mutter. “You’re her worst nightmare.”

She grins. “I should get a medal.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“She doesn’t deserve you,” she says like she’s reminding me. Like I forgot.

I sit up. “She’s just… I don’t know. Always picking at shit.”

“She don’t trust you.”

“She don’t trust you.”

“Well,” Nika says, walking over, “that’s smart of her.”

I glare. “You’re terrible.”

“And yet,” she says, sitting on the bed next to me, so close our thighs touch, “you still don’t stop me.”

I don’t respond. Can’t. Cause she’s not wrong. She leans back, scrolling my phone without permission like she owns it. She reads the texts. Smiles at them like they’re funny. “You should leave her on red.”

“I can’t.”

“You could.”

Silence. Then—“You scared?”

I look over at her. Her face is soft. Too soft for the fire she usually keeps behind her eyes. It makes me nervous.

“I’m not scared,” I say.

She doesn’t blink. “Then leave her.”

I don’t answer. I don’t have to. Because it’s not that simple. Because I am loyal. Or trying to be. But Nika makes it so hard. I think she knows she’s winning.

Game day felt heavier than it should’ve.

I woke up with a headache. That dull, pressure-filled kind that starts behind the eyes and crawls across your whole skull by the time you hit shootaround. And of course, the texts started early.

“So you just not gonna say good morning?”

“You sleep in the same room as her or nah?”

“Don’t lie. I know y’all close.”

I didn’t even reply. Just turned my screen over and sat in the hotel mirror pretending to focus on my edges while Nika hummed some Croatian song behind me and tossed me her spare hair tie without even looking.

She could feel it. That tension I was dragging with me. But she ain’t say shit about it. She just walked out the room like she had a job to do.

On the court. She showed out. I mean embarrassed them.

Every possession felt personal. Like she was pissed off but too calm to scream. Just… cold. Hitting stepbacks with a smile. Fast break dimes. Locking up anyone who even looked like they were gonna drive past her.

And then she got switched onto my girl. Lord. It was a show. First play—strip steal, easy lay.

Next possession? Girl tried to drive, Nika bodied her into a damn timeout. Didn’t say a word. Just jogged past her back to the huddle, wiping her mouth like the meal was too easy.

Coach didn’t even sub her out. Nobody could. She was running that floor like it was her name on the banners. And the whole time, she kept glancing at me.

Not blowing kisses or doing anything corny. Just that same unreadable expression. Like: Are you watching? Do you see the difference yet?

I did. And I hated it. But I did.

We won.

Bench going crazy, crowd hyped. But I’m quiet. Sitting on the edge of the bleachers with a Gatorade bottle pressed to my temple and my heart trying not to race. Sweat on my neck. Breath short.

My head hurts worse. I’m still collecting myself when she walks over. My girl. Hair tied back. Face pissed. Whole body moving with too much intention.

“Nah, we not finna do that,” she says before I even register she’s standing in front of me.

“Do what?” I ask, voice flat.

She steps closer. “You think I didn’t see her? You think I didn’t hear what she said to me? That little ass whisper shit she do—”

“Stop,” I mutter. I rub my temple. “Just stop.”

“I’m talking to you.”

“And I have a headache,” I snap back, low but sharp. “Not right now.”

“You didn’t even check her!”

“And what was I supposed to do?” I shoot back. “Foul her out for making a damn jumper?”

Nika walks up right then, still wiping her mouth with her jersey, hair a little messy, cheeks flushed with victory. She’s laughing under her breath, not even pretending to be chill about it.

“Oh this what we doin now?” my girl says, stepping toward her.

Nika blinks. Looks her up and down once. “Girl, we been doin it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Nika says, still smirking. “You got a lot to say for someone who got outplayed and outloved in the same night.”

I hear a few gasps. Someone filming. The bench ain’t even cleared yet. Media staff still courtside. And me? I’m rubbing my face like I want to disappear.

“You not even her girl,” my girl spits.

And before I can even stop myself—I stand. But I don’t step toward her. I reach to the side, grip Nika’s wrist, and pull her toward the locker room.

Everyone sees it. The team. The cameras. The world. And Nika grins.

“Wow,” she laughs, stumbling after me like she just won the lottery. “That’s crazy. You ain’t even answer her. Just grabbed me like I’m yours.”

“You are mine,” I snap, but it’s tired. Frustrated. My head still pounding.

We get past the doors. I let go of her hand and slump against the wall.

“Nika,” I mutter, eyes closed. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

She shrugs. “She made it easy.”

I groan. “You’re so annoying.”

“Annoyingly right.”

I open one eye. She’s staring at me, arms crossed, smug like always.

“I didn’t mean to choose you,” I mutter.

“Sure you didn’t,” she says, still smiling. “That’s why your first instinct was to grab me like I been yours. ‘Cause you meant not to.”

I look up at the ceiling. “Oh Lord.”

She walks up, pulls the Gatorade bottle out of my hand, presses a cold kiss to my forehead.

“Get used to it.”

It’s quiet when we get back to the hotel. Uncomfortably quiet. I don’t speak. She doesn’t either.

The door closes behind us and I go straight for my bag, pull out my hoodie and towel, and hit the shower without a word. My head still hurts. My phone’s vibrating non-stop—calls, texts, Instagram, all of it. Her. My girl. Or ex. Or… whatever she is now.

I let the water run hot until my skin feels raw and my brain stops buzzing. I don’t rush. I towel off slow. Pull on my hoodie, leave my shorts somewhere on the bathroom floor, and finally slide into bed.

Not Nika’s. Mine.

Two queen beds. Hotel room sterile and still. I crawl under the covers with wet hair and a blank face. I’m not tired. Just… drained. The kind of drained where you lay in bed staring at the ceiling with your jaw clenched and the taste of someone else’s name still stuck to the roof of your mouth.

And then—ten minutes later—I hear the water cut off. Shit. I close my eyes like that’ll stop her from doing what I already know she’s about to do. And of course, two minutes later, the bed dips behind me.

She gets in mine. I hear her sigh once, like she tried to chill. Then—

“You’re not asleep.” I roll my eyes. Keep them closed.

She scoots closer. I scoot an inch away. She mirrors me.

“I can move too,” she says calmly, her voice smug as hell and still a little scratchy from the game.

I turn to face her, finally, lips pressed tight in annoyance. “Why are you in my bed?”

She shrugs. Hair damp, skin fresh. She smells like vanilla body wash and trouble. And she’s smiling. Not big—just enough to let me know she feels real good about herself.

“You’re mad,” she says.

“I’m irritated.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Still not sleeping.”

“I was close.”

“You weren’t.”

I try not to smile. Try hard. But a breath escapes my nose—just a small puff of amusement—and she catches it. That’s all she needs. Her grin widens like a damn demon child, all pride and dimple and ‘I knew you missed me.’

I turn my head away again. “Stop hangin’ out with KK and Paige.”

“Now why you say that?”

“Because you act just like them,” I mutter. “Annoying. Loud. Cocky for no reason.”

Nika gasps—genuinely gasps like I just disrespected her bloodline. Then, like it’s nothing, she grabs my phone off the nightstand and pulls up Instagram.

“Since I’m already public enemy number one,” she mutters. “Might as well go Live.”

“Don’t go live on my—” Too late. Camera’s on.

I drop back into the mattress and groan like I’m under attack. “Here. She. Go.”

She straddles my waist like it’s her birthright. Hoodie hanging off one shoulder, hair a mess, eyes still a little red from her post-game shower. I lay sideways on the bed like a corpse, hands behind my head, eyes to the ceiling, while she faces the camera.

“Hi, friends,” she says sweetly. “It’s ya girl. Coming to you live from someone’s bed. Don’t worry about who.”

I sigh. Loudly. She turns the camera to my face just as I blink slow like I’m about to pass into the afterlife.

“She’s so dramatic,” she whispers into the mic like she’s narrating a nature documentary.

I don’t even move. I’m flat. I’m horizontal. I’m being terrorized. Then she leans down and starts kissing my face. Not normal kisses. Annoying ones. Rapid-fire, soft and warm, all over my cheek, my forehead, my jawline.

“Stop,” I mumble, trying to wiggle away. She grabs my face with both hands and kisses my nose.

“Say you love me.”

“I don’t,” I lie.

She lays her face on mine—on mine. Not next to it. On it. Cheek to cheek. We’re nose to nose. My vision’s nothing but her eyelashes.

“Say it,” she whispers, lips brushing mine but not kissing.

I stay silent. She presses another kiss right beside my mouth.

“You love me,” she says for me. I blink.

“You do,” she insists, kissing down to my jaw.

The comments on aren’t helping.

“THE LEGS? THE STRADDLE? THE LIVE?”

“nah this ain’t flirting this is FEDERAL”

“soooo we not gon talk about the fact she NEVER broke up with her gf???” (Yes)

I roll onto my back like I’m preparing for death. One arm behind my head. Other one on her waist. Like it belongs there. And she leans into it.

She bites her lip when she notices and dips down low enough to kiss me like it’s nothing. Like we not on Live. Like that wasn’t the kiss.

I don’t even look at her. I grab the remote and turn on Cartoon Network. Volume low. Lazy. Like she ain’t folded me in front of the world.

“DID SHE JUST KISS HER?”

“picked the funny channel like she not in love”

“THIS IS A RELATIONSHIP 😭😭😭😭”

“damn so Nika really winning huh”

And then, with all the casual audacity of a woman who knows she won the war and the land it sits on. She ends the Live. Click. Then lowers herself like she don’t even see me blinking through the betrayal.

Lays her full body across mine like I’m her mattress. Slides her arms under mine. Head in my neck. Like we’re good now.

“Goodnight,” she whispers, like she didn’t just commit emotional arson with one (1) straddle and a camera.

I stay frozen for a second. Just breathing. No words.

Then, without thinking, I hook my arm tighter around her waist. Not even realizing I’m doing it until she sighs softly against my neck and my hand stays there.

Because I’m not mad. Not really. I just wanted quiet. And this—this ridiculous, smug, stubborn Croatian girl—is the loudest peace I’ve ever known.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin

[222col]

what about jj and maneater!reader meeting again. like maybe at the beach when he goes for a surf and she’s laying on a towel all shiny from sweat and tanning oil and he’s just obsessed

maneater!reader x jj maybank

summary: jj is growing obsessed, and seeing you alone at the beach isn't helping

cw .ᐟ hints at nsfw

꒰ notes ꒱ continuing on from this post

were you doing this just to taunt him? did you somehow know he was gonna be there? the blood was rushing to his groin at the idea. god, he could be so lucky. to have someone like you doing this purposefully for his attention.

you weren't, of course, he knew that. but he couldn't deny how he'd have loved it if you were.

wired earphones in your ears, sunglasses perched on the end of your nose as you laid upon the red towel in the sand. could you even call the tiny triangles covering your chest a bikini? jj was fucking loving it either way. sun kissed skin glistening in the rays, all he wants to do is lick every inch of sheen from your body.

board in hand, tucked in under his armpit and he walks at snail's pace past you. he hadn't seen you since that night at the boneyard, and what a treat he'd been given to see you like this for the first time since kissing you.

digging his board into the sand, obnoxious smirk on his face as he leans his arm onto the board. the shadow casting over your body, forcing your eyes open. "'sup, mama?"

"huh?" you mutter, pulling your earphones from your ears, propping yourself up on your elbows as you look up to jj over the top of your sunglasses.

jj nearly trips over nothing as you look at him, grateful for his surfboard for keeping him up upright. "just sayin' hey," he murmurs, not so subtly flexing every muscle he can.

"hi jj." you mumble, pushing your sunglasses back up your nose. all you did was say his name and jj's having heart palpitations.

laying back down fully, eyes closed behind your sunglasses, not that jj could see through them. "oh, am i interrupting your precious tanning time?" he teases, gently kicking your foot with his own to get your attention. immediately regretting it when he sees the look of disapproval on your face. "sorry— sorry."

"mhm," you mutter, placing your earphones back in your ears as jj admits defeat. begrudgingly picking up his board and walking toward the ocean.

which is exactly when he gets your attention. watching him from the shore as he surfs the waves. only when he's not aware are your eyes completely devoted to him.

finding yourself smiling at his whoops and shouts of joy when he catches a big wave. watching the blonde locks stick to his skin, how his necklace ends up between his lips when he's paddling on the surfboard. leaning back on your palms, just admiring the view you've been blessed with for the day.

jj would like to think you're watching him. but all he can see if you sitting up, too far away to know whether you're watching the view or if it's his lucky day and he is the view. he's trying so fucking hard too. going for the biggest waves, pulling out all his best tricks.

trudging out of the water a short while later, walking straight over to your position in the sand. "this seat taken?" he smirks, not waiting for a response as he places his board down and sits right next to you on your towel. "no? thanks." he teases, bumping your shoulder with his own.

"you're insufferable," you mutter, slight smirk on your face as you push your sunglasses up onto your head.

"so everyone keeps telling me." jj smirks, resting his forearms on top of his knees, head turned to look at you. he is seriously seconds away from licking a line up your neck just to get a taste of you. you looked fucking delicious.

you couldn't deny you felt the same. the water droplets on his skin, the movement of his muscles, when he's not purposefully flexing, how hot he looked with his hair wet. but you'd never show that, couldn't give him the satisfaction.

"can't stop thinkin' bout that kiss." jj admits, voice lower as he rests his head on his shoulder to look over to you. he doesn't miss the way your lips briefly upturn at his words.

you had to admit. it was a fucking good kiss. jj could tell you felt that way, the way your eyes were meeting his. he can't stop himself from leaning over, chasing your lips again. desperate for another taste.

you smirk, almost chuckling but you don't deny him. still leaning on your palms, letting jj come to you as your lips meet once more. he tasted like ocean water and weed, overpowering the taste of your cherry lip oil. his hands caress over your stomach, landing on your waist. skin hot from the sun, coated in oil that only helps guide his movements across your skin.

gently nipping his bottom lip, sucking it into your mouth before pulling away from his mouth. "fuck." he whimpers, causing a chuckle from you.

"where you goin'?" he murmurs, almost pouting, watching you stand up. shaking your head with a smirk as you pull the towel from underneath his body. "got a party to get ready for." you smirk down to him, slinging your bag over your shoulder, not waiting for his response before leaving him sat alone.

he’s convinced he’s going to actually die if you keep kissing him and leaving.

jj: yo jb, any idea who's throwing a party tn?

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

꒰ taglist ꒱ @khartalks @funkycoloured @bluestrd @appleaali @stanart4clearskin @donteventry-itdude (to be added)

[reidsapplelady]

PAST IS PAST (part I) — /S. Reid/ & /R. Chase/

SUMMARY: when your ex, Robert Chase, and House's team, is brought in to consult on a case, old feelings start to surface. Caught between Chase's flirting and Reid's quiet affection, you find yourself caught between a love triangle, and a choice that you have to make.

spencer x psych!bau!reader x chase ⸝⸝ fluff & slight angst ⸝⸝ co-workers to lovers

WARNINGS: reader has attachment and commitment issues! wow!!, house being sassy as always (i cant tell if i made him too sassy), past!ppth!reader x chase, present!psych!bau!reader x spencer, use of y/n

WC: 1.5k+

There was a different kind of tension in the air, usually there's no tension at all. It reminded you of your old memories that you have put in the back of your mind, all because he was here. Your old love.

You called House to assist you guys in a case alongside with the CDC, you didn't know he'd be bringing the entire team.

You tried to not show the fact that you were tense. You'd survive UnSubs threatening or flirting at you, but the thought of seeing him again, after all this time, left your breath a little shorter.

You made your way into the briefing room, as soon as you walked in, you locked eyes with him. Robert Chase, who was leaning against the other doorway, his arms crossed against his chest, his blonde hair a little longer than the last you've seen him.

"I called House only, why're you guys here." You inquired as you looked at House, who was sitting down on a chair like he owned the entire place.

"I leapt at the chance to work with a bunch of people who think behavioral profiling is a science. And I thought, 'Wow! a little reunion could shake things up!' and then I forcefully dragged them here." House teased as he set his cane on his lap, his legs were set on the table. you did not hesitate to give him the finger before sitting down right next to Spencer, as Chase sat right next to you. What a great way to start this briefing.

"So, my favorite emotionally stunted overachiever, how are you doing?" He asks with genuine curiosity, "You traded white coats with black vests, what a downgrade."

"I'm fine, House." You roll your eyes.

The briefing room felt too full. Hotch stood where the screen was with Garcia, Reid was playing with his whiteboard marker that he grabbed not too long ago, Morgan kept glancing at House, as if waiting for him to start chaos, and everyone else was doing their own thing.

"This is cute," House stated as he peered at the organized folders on the table. "Did the behavioral pixies color-code the victims too?"

"That's enough." Hotch said curtly, Cameron just smiled politely, while Foreman rolled his eyes and looked like he regretted the entire trip.

House ignored Hotch, "Three victims." House said as he swiped through the tablet screen like they bored him. "All died horribly with consistent symptoms. Question is: Was it mother nature or a very enthusiastic bioterrorist?"

"You called me because you guys are desperate, well good news: I love desperate." House puts emphasis on the word 'love', he certainly knew himself well.

Rossi narrowed his eyes as he stared at House. "Do you always talk like this?"

"Only when I'm awake." House replies.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at House's reply to Rossi. "You always this subtle?”

"No, but I can turn it down if your fragile ego needs coddling." House replies as his gaze falls on Morgan, who was now trying to hold back the urge to argue with House.

Hotch rubbed his temple as he spoke, "How long is this gonna take?"

House looks at him dead in the eye. "Depends. How long is your team gonna stop ignoring the tension between boy genius and girl wond—"

You cut him off, "House."

"What? I'm just saying." He says as he shrugged.

You looked at Spencer beside you, he was trying to cover his face with the file, but you could see his ears reddening. Which made your cheeks heat up too. What you didn't know was Chase was looking at you.

"Can we focus." You request, your eyes now landed on the floor as you shifted uncomfortably in your chair.

"Sure," House then turns his head to face Chase, "Remember when they used to cry during night shifts at the cafeteria? Good times."

"House," Chase snaps

Spencer's gaze looked at you before turning to House. "You were under him?" He asks you as he was staring at House

"Yeah, and these two, right here, were practically walking HR violations, they did more than teamwork alright." House overshares as he pointed at you and Chase, he then noticed Spencer's little frown that he had plastered on his face but ignored it.

Cameron made a strangled noise, Foreman sighed deeply and Spencer looked like someone had punched him in the gut.

"The past is past." You say as you set the tablet on the table.

"I was just giving context." House put the two of his hands up as you just sighed.

After that, Spencer's gaze never met you again, of course, House notices this, "I love federal drama," he said brightly, but only Cameron and Foreman heard him. "better than HBO." He snickers.

You roll your eyes before Hotch speaks up again, "Okay, JJ and Prentiss, go talk to the victims' families, get any background that may be useful, Morgan, Rossi and I will go investigate the crime scenes, while you and Reid stay here and help them." Hotch's gaze were set on you as he mentions you and Spencer.

Chase chuckled before turning to you, "Is your boss this broody?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Kind of, but he's nice, I swear." You smile at him. You then turn to your old colleagues in front of you.

"Nice to see you again, Y/N." Cameron flashes a small smile at you.

"Nice to see you guys again, too." You turn to face Spencer "Spence, you alright?" You say. You noticed that Spencer has been zoning out for a bit.

He snaps out of it before he mutters, "Hm? Oh yeah." before shifting in his seat to a more comfortable position as he avoids your gaze.

"Let's take a look at victimology first, the three victims all have brown hair. It's highly likely they're surrogates." Spencer says as he flips through his case file, you just nod at his words.

"Surrogates?" Foreman asks.

"Surrogates are victims that represents or looks similar to someone that the UnSub hates or loves and over time they'll evolve eventually to kill that person." Spencer rambled, as his hands were making gestures as he explained.

"Of course. Foreman, you're dumb." House stated as he looks at Foreman, Foreman just bit his inner cheek and ignored him.

"Aside from you know, obvious details. Is there anything else in common? Like do they have a dead beat husband? Or are they having an affair with the smoking hot next-door-neighbor?" House inquires as he taps his finger against his cane, Spencer found his use of inappropriate terms very unnecessary but he ignored it.

"Mm, we don't have that much information yet, I'm sure Prentiss and JJ would give us some sort of background before we could actually dive in." You say as you look at House.

"This is gonna be one hell of a case." Chase says as his eyes darts to his team that was in front of him before to you and Spencer. "I mean, using airborne diseases as a method to kill someone? Atleast we know it has to be someone with a science background."

"The CDC's already investigating the disease, I called you guys because you're here to lend a helping hand." You purse your lips as you cross your arms on your chest.

As you guys kept talking, at one point you guys decided to end the meeting and try to figure out what the disease may be based off of the symptoms.

You were looking out the window in the briefing room, you notice a figure slowly approaching you, which is why you turn around. And you see Chase. Right in front of you. He gives you a small smile before sitting at the couch right next to where you're standing.

"So.. It's been a while." He spoke up, which caught your attention.

"I guess so." You shrug as your gaze go back to the view of the city.

He paused before speaking up, "I got you coffee, by the way." Your gaze then landed on him, then on his hands. You didn't notice he was holding two mugs.

"Two teaspoons of sugar? Like how you liked it back then." He smiles as he offered you the coffee, you took it before taking a sip.

"You remembered." You gave him a small smile.

"Well it's hard to forget, especially when it became routine for 2 years." He replies before taking a sip of his coffee.

"Oh." You pause.

"Yeah."

"Well, that's nice. I guess." You now try to avoid eye contact with him, your gaze wandered back on the city.

"Stop." He says.

You raised an eyebrow but your eyes never met his gaze. "Stop what?"

"Stop pretending that you don't care, I can still see that you do. It's just... not in the same way." He frowned as he took another sip of his coffee. "You left without a goodbye and I didn't say enough to you, I didn't say how much I loved you."

"You didn't have to."

"Yeah, well, it felt like I needed to."

all rights reserved — © reidsapplelady

taglist: @dearlenore @tinkerbellsgf @1nterstellarcha0s @th3g5eren0

[gigiwritess]

BACK TO EARTH

dr. jack abbott x f!resident!reader!vega aka "wildcard"

wc: 2,100 synopsis: the weeks go by—until the pittfest happens. jack wasn't even supposed to be working, but there he was. he didn't expect to have to save vega from herself, too, as her personal dark spiraled out of her control.

contents: 20-year age gap (vega is 26, jack is 46). vega's worsening mental health issues; she's having an anxiety attack, but it's not heavily described. usual pitt dynamics. probably lots of medical inaccuracies that i'm not gonna apologize for. this is totally self-inserted and vega is totally based in lots of aspects of myself. this list is concerns general warnings and specific chapter warnings—i'm gonna keep updating it as i go

gigi's notes: hi people!!!! i'm sorry for not posting the 3rd piece sooner. besides work, classes, organizing and academic conference, my depression keeps getting the best of me and i dissociate and don't do all the shit i need to do and it's an endless cycle. so it took me a bit longer to be able to flesh it out exactly how i wanted this to go and to find the right voice for the things i wanted to write. i really loved this piece and i hope you like it to. i'll try my best to write the next one sooner <3 about the 'jack abbot x reader x frank langdon love triangle', i can tell she's here and she's called TRAITOR (based on the song TRAITOR by elley duhé). i'm nowhere near finished but i'm already at 3k soooo it might take a bit longer to finish cooking it. i should probably make a list of jack abbot's works in progress because i have many lol i'm also gonna write jack abbot x firefighter!reader bc it's my alter-ego, probably a mini-series shorter than BRIGHTER, and i'm also thinking of somethinng like jack abbot x brat!reader in nessa barrett's vibes. as you can tell, jack abbot is rotting my brain :()

PLAYLIST | NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST

PREV | NEXT

There was something wrong.

The worst of the Pittfest chaos had passed. The ER wasn’t quiet—it never was—, but now the screaming had dulled down to murmurs, the steady beep of machines, the last critical cases being dealt with. Even though it wasn’t over, there was finally a small semblance of quiet starting to spread.

Jack was hands-deep in a tracheotomy when it happened—a kid. Couldn’t have been older than ten. Vega had been working on him since he arrived; Jack caught a glimpse of her across the room as she stopped her compressions and called time of death. He saw the way she stilled for a second, the way something in her eyes cracked. She didn’t lose it, didn’t panic, didn’t break protocol. Just took a deep breath and moved on. But he saw the look in her eyes. He knew that look.

He knew, the moment she stepped out of Trauma Two, her shoulders sagging, her hands shaking as she pulled the latex gloves off with far more force than necessary, there was something wrong.

The beeping from the monitor finally went back to a steady rhythm; his patient was stable. Jack could finally breathe normally again; no one else was calling out his name to go help another patient. He ripped off his gloves, shoved a blood-soaked gown into a bin, and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. By the time his patient was finally handed off, Vega was gone.

He probably shouldn’t have been paying that much attention to her all this time working together, but he couldn’t help it—he was, by nature, an observant person; he had thrived in workplaces exactly because of that. But Vega was the biggest mystery Jack had ever faced—the most fascinating one.

Every time they worked together or were near each other—which happened way more frequently than it should’ve, considering they worked opposing shifts—, he noticed something about her, sometimes without even meaning to.

It was almost as if she were a giant magnet and he was made of iron (part of him was, at least). He noticed the way her forehead would furrow whenever she was in deep thinking; he noticed the way she would let a quiet groan escape when stretching her back, always a grimace of pain she was quick to disguise when there were people around. He noticed how picky she was with her fingers, always scratching something, filing her nails, finding something to fix in her cuticles. He noticed how expressive she was; how her face always showed what she was feeling, even when she was trying to pretend otherwise.

He noticed a lot of things about her. Especially how well she held herself together, but her eyes gave her away—he always saw right through them.

It took him longer than it should’ve to find her. She wasn’t in the break room, wasn’t in the stairwell. Not in the far supply closet that staff usually went to scream into empty shelves, not in the ambulance bay.

It was one of the old, near-empty trauma bays, half-lit, curtain drawn. Vega sat on the edge of a gurney, knees close to her chest, elbows on her knees. Her hands were covering her face, her palms pressed against her eyes as if she could absorb back her own tears.

Jack didn’t announce himself. He just stepped inside, quietly closed the door behind him, pulling the curtain shut. For a moment, he just stood there. The room felt too small, the air too heavy.

“Vega?” He called out in a low voice, rough from a long, chaotic day.

No response—she didn’t move. He could hear her small, soft sobs.

He crossed the room in two strides, invading her space, her knees touching his chest. Carefully, gently, Jack took her hands in his and slowly pulled them away from her face, her eyes, wet with tears, sealed shut as he lowered her hands to her sides.

“Look at me,” Jack said, both his hands coming to cup her face, firm and steady, warm palms against the sides of her neck.

She did. Her eyes, usually so full of fire and life, were dark, red-rimmed, almost vacant as they met his. It was as if an angry, destructive storm had passed through them, taking everything in its wake, taking a piece of her with it. A storm that had been hidden deep, brewing for some time—not just the Pittfest.

“Breathe.” Quietly, she did. “In and out.”

Her breathing hitched, the tears subsiding, the tremor in her chest slowly fading away. His thumbs brushed the sharp line of her cheekbones—not soft, not tender. Grounding. Just enough to tether her back to Earth, back to the present, away from her spiraling thoughts, back to him.

“Good girl,” he muttered as her breath came in shaky but obedient, almost even now.

It was meant to come out as a tease, something for her to laugh, to bring her back to reality. But it didn’t sound that way, not as she shivered, not as his thumb grazed the corner of her mouth. Not as her gaze fell to his lips once, twice before flicking back to his eyes. It shouldn’t have made his stomach twist—but it did. They stayed that way for a moment, just breathing, just looking at each other, existing in each other’s space. Simply being with each other, her pulse a steady rhythm against his fingers.

But his eyes betrayed him—his gaze dropped to her lips before he could stop himself. Maybe it was the tiredness. Maybe it was the blood stuck under his nails, or the way his chest still ached from all the patients he’d lost. Or maybe it was the way that here, in this room, right now, with her, none of it mattered.

Jack leaned in—Vega met him halfway. It wasn’t a careful kiss, not sweet. It was like a collision of exhaustion and adrenaline, and months of looking at each other as if they were two souls who knew something about each other, who recognized something in each other. Her hands gripped the collar of his scrubs, his palms sliding to the back of her neck—it was a kiss meant to ground them both. Hard and a little desperate, meant to translate everything that couldn’t be said yet. No promises, no words, no soft confessions. Just here, right now.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads stood almost touching for a moment. Jack’s breath was ragged; his hands still cupped her face.

“Keep looking at me like that, old man,” she said, voice hoarse, “and I might start thinking you like having me around.”

The wicked smirk on her lips, swollen from his kiss, was the first real thing he’d seen on her face all night.

It took a moment for her teasing to hit its mark, for him to realize she was back. “Yeah, yeah,” he laughed. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Jack was the first to pull back, hands falling away slowly, reluctantly. The air between them still crackled, was still charged as they stared at each other for a moment longer, the memory and the weight of the kiss too fresh, too sharp. For a second, neither of them spoke.

Outside, someone faintly asked about more negative O units—the world hadn’t stopped.

He jerked his chin toward the toward.

“Come on, Wildcard,” he said, the usual sharp-edged version of him settling back into place, “you’ve got a shift to finish.”

There was something about the way he uttered ‘Wildcard’. It was not in the usual teasing, mocking way people did. It felt personal—he spoke it like a secret kept between just the two of them.

She slid off the gurney, her hand brushing his as she walked, her pinkie tangling with his for a single moment before she put distance between them. Her expression was the same as it always was—cool, a little cocky, composed. But her pulse was still visible at her throat.

Jack noticed. Of course he did.

The world was calmer now as they sat down on the park benches, Matteo happily handing beers to whomever would accept. Life still went on around them—music thudding faintly against the night air, sirens going off in the distance—but here it felt quieter. Slower.

Vega looked up; the night sky was clear and bright, stars twinkling faintly. Jack sat beside her on the same worn-out bench. He was sitting close, almost too close. His thigh brushed hers, solid and warm; his arm bumped hers when he shifted slightly to accommodate his prosthetic leg, but he didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned closer, the barest tilt of his body, casual enough that no one would notice.

She noticed—every single second. She could’ve inched away, could’ve created a little space. She didn’t.

They hadn’t spoken since leaving that trauma bay, hadn’t worked together—only traded stolen glances throughout the ER, glances full of everything they didn’t recognize yet.

“You held up good today,” Jack said, nudging her leg with his left knee, beer in hand, “better than most.” He angled his body towards her, looking at her profile.

She nudged his leg back, turning her head to look at him, finding his eyes. “Even with a breakdown?”

“Even then,” he said, sipping his beer and staring intently into her.

Vega tried to play it off, act cool—but her throat still tightened all the same as she held his gaze, as she tried not to think about the anxiety black hole she’d just barely clawed her way out of. She tried not to think about how everything had been spiraling each time worse than the previous, each time getting far out of her control, until his warm, steady hands pulled her out. She didn’t want to think about how grounding his touch felt—or how his kiss felt like a lifeline she didn’t know she needed, how his kiss felt like being above the surface after being underwater for so long, how his kiss felt like feeling a spark of something after being numb for so long.

But that was all she could think about as she looked into his eyes, as the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them under the amber streetlights.

She looked away; her heart sounded stupidly loud in her ears, overwhelming. She took a breath, trying to quiet it down.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” she said, breaking the moment, pretending like it didn’t weigh heavily on her chest. “But thank you.”

“I know,” Jack said after a beat, a half-smirk ghosting across his mouth. “Guess I just have a thing for trouble.”

Vega let out a breath of a laugh, genuine, small, and surprised, meant just for him. Something warm started to spread over her chest, something good. When she turned to him again, her eyes were brighter, crinkling just a little at the corners. She shouldn’t say anything—or at least say something else. But she couldn’t help it when his eyes had a spark of something daring, of something dangerous, something familiar.

“Yeah? That why you keep hanging around?”

The air between them went still. Heavy, charged. Like something coiled and tense, just waiting for someone to make a move—any move.

Feeling just a bit emboldened by the spark in his eyes, she reached out and snagged the beer right out of his hand. Jack’s eyebrows shot up, surprised, but he let her do it, watching as she lifted it to her lips and took a long sip. Brave. Almost defiant.

Vega handed the beer back. Eyes still locked on Jack’s hazel ones, his fingers closed around hers, slow, deliberate, and his head tipped toward her, just a bit, like he was going to say something to Robby instead—he didn’t.

Jack’s mouth brushed near her ear, low enough that only she caught it, meant just for her.

“Careful, kid. Keep that up and I’ll think you’re flirting.”

It was her turn to stay silent, her breath caught like a deer caught in a trap, just for a split second before she masked it into a tiny, sly smile. Her cheeks, her whole face, felt like it was on fire. She didn’t need to look at him to feel the wicked grin tugging at his mouth.

Vega leaned back against the bench, purposefully pressing her shoulder against his. She said nothing as she stole his beer again, brushing his fingers—and he let her—, acting as if her heart was beating normally. It wasn’t. Not since his kiss brought her back to earth.

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