#if you DO seems interested in talking to me I need to know even the bare basics like the “hello”s and “how are you”s btw

[evilminji]

And like? What are they going to DO? This is clearly getting the trigger happy circles raring to go. But? It's not a "punch it" problem so much as "gently corral the wandering sheep with swords" problem. The KID clearly isn't responsible. He's just the focal point. And frankly?

They could do a LOT worse then "good kid, trying his best, has no idea what to do with his new found army of fanatically loyal skeletons". He's LAW ABIDING. Has a strong moral code. Even BATMAN isn't worried. (A lie, Batman is always worried. Batman has Bat Anxiety. He just doesn't think this is a problem YET and hopes it never will be.)

So like? Can they buy him a ranch or something? Move the skeletons AWAY from city centers? Idiots keep attacking the soilders. And no amount of explaining "don't DO that. You WILL lose. Possibly your life." Deters them! Ffs, GOVERMENT idiots are making noises about attacking the soilders!

That would be a catastrophically bad idea.

What the kid NEEDS? Is a nice, soothing, low stress environment. Where he can get governance and ethics lessons, finish his college degree, and keep his new friends out of trouble. He's already made it clear he has no interest in USING them for anything. Short of planetary defense? Let the kid relax with a smoothie!

(And like? Imagine THAT? The Glowing Skeleton ranch. Middle of nowhere. With the Nice Young Man and his army of the damned. They'll help you plow the fields! Not too bright, those skeletons. But they clearly mean well. They'll hold your yarn for hours while you knit. Listen while you talk. Play tea party.

The Justice League just needs them to, you know, not go a wandering. And yeah, folks can get that. They look pretty spooky. You get used to it. John borrows some to stock shelves, ever since he threw out his back. Helped me find my keys!)

Cause I mean? If SUPERMAN and WONDER WOMAN ask? And the Nice Young Man "seems polite"? Isn't it the right thing to do? He's just trying to keep his Skeletons out of trouble! Whole lot of responsibility for someone so young. It must be like having a crowd of toddlers!

Fic prompt #23

Dpxdc

Did you have in mind a plot where the protagonist goes back in time to save the future? What if Danny had become the King of Ghosts, but due to various problems in his human life, he had a rough time adjusting to his new social position? Despite this, Danny is deeply loved by his subjects—especially the skeleton army, who adore him after suffering under the tyranny of Pariah Dark. So, what if the army traveled back in time to serve Danny and free him from his human problems?

The Justice League is very concerned about the mysterious appearance of skeletons that seem to be obeying a teenager.

[untoldstar]

yandere! merman x reader part 3

Might not write another part for a while so asks for Caspian are welcome!

For the small percentage that voted for no smut, I got you🙏 I’ve marked the nsfw part you can stop reading at that point as it’s at the end of the post.

Taglist at the end of the post because it’s kinda long.

part 1 part 2

male yandere, female yandere

You nod and try keep your attention on the couple in front of you but you squirm under Caspian’s hold. He doesn’t seem to care that you’re not alone as he continues to cling and hold on to you like you’ll disappear if he lets go for one second.

After waking up slightly uncomfortable from your body still not being used to the water Caspian took you to a few other spots that were worth seeing before heading to his friends home. Darya, a mermaid, and her human mate Keith. Both pleasant and clearly hold a special place in Caspian’s life “He persisted. I was so worried about him leaving everything behind but he wouldn’t budge.” Darya looks at her mate with a smile, dark eyes twinkling at the memory. They light up with a new memory when she turns to look at you again “He tried to go after me but ended up almost drowning I had no choice but to take him here.” Keith rolls his eyes “She’s exaggerating I wouldve totally made it I’m a great swimmer.”

You laugh as they banter. They’re truly beautiful together and you can see the love they share even as an outsider to their relationship. You can feel your love growing for Caspian but can what he feels even be called love or is it an infatuation?

You’ve noticed his interest in humans. How he collects items and how he tries to replicate how human talk and act. You can’t help but wonder if you’re just the perfect piece that fit into his fantasy. That perhaps you’re his escape, the only way he can turn his wishes into something tangible.

You blink when Keith looks at you “You should join us.” You glance at Darya then back at Keith “Every year we do a celebration ritual. A rebirth ritual of sorts. Since merpeople live a long time rituals like this kind of remind them to still enjoy life and not be prisoners to routine and boredom.” Keith sends a playful look to Caspian “Caspian here would tag along as a third wheel but this year he can finally come with a mate.” You glance at Caspian and softly smile when you see his flushed face “I would love that.” Keith grimaces “You two are so in love it’s starting to gross me out.” Darya nudges his shoulder “Don’t start. We were the same way.” He rolls his eyes “Yeah whatever..”He snickers and looks at you while getting up “Hey wanna help me get all this out of the way?”

Darya pulls a reluctant Caspian who keeps looking over his shoulder like a hurt puppy out of the room leaving you and Keith alone.

Caspian and Darya’s muffled voices seep into the room as you work to clean up, the noise blending with the clinking of utensils.

Caspian glances at you “So..how are you adjusting? I can’t tell if you’re already used to living here or you’re going insane you’re not giving me much here.” You chuckle and shake your head “I don’t mind it I think it’s beautiful here, really.” He throws you a wary glance. Your words are to comfort him but you can help but feel like you’re telling yourself that more than him “It’s just..I feel homesick.” You sighs softly “Hey I get that. I do. A lot of humans love it here but it’s not in our nature. We need some balance. What does Caspian think about this?” You purse your lips and shake your head “Caspian is a bit..protective? I think he’s scared of me not coming back if I go back there.” Keith moves closer to you, voice low “Look Caspian never..found his match. From both worlds. He’s my friend and he was Daryas for much longer. I’m sure he’s scared you know?” You nod. You could understand that but you need to know this isn’t permanent. Your thoughts spiral and you feel your chest tighten “Hey..” Keith rubs your back, the soothing motion only lessens a fraction of your worries “I trust him. It might take him a minute but talk to him. And hey, you always have a friend here.” He smiles warmly and you have to admit you’re happy you agreed to meet his friends. It feels less lonely with another human here who can truly understand the concerns you have “Thank you Keith.” You smile up at him.

Just when you feels a weight pressed to your back Keith glances behind you biting back a smile as he moves away from you “I’m happily mated Cas. Not gonna steal her away.” He says in a sinsong voice as he makes his way out of the room, sending you a wink before disappearing.

You turn to Caspian to see a pout on his face “You were here too long. What were you talking about?” He pulls you into his arms cradling your head into his chest. You speak quietly into his chest as you wrap your arms around him “Nothing important. Were you worried?” He nods “Missed you..” You chuckles softly and move away “Come on. Let’s go back.”

You knew Caspian loved humans. You knew he was intrigued at the very simple things that made them what they are. How they talk, walk, laugh.

All the shiny little things they make that are meaningless in the grand scheme of things but somehow mean the whole world to them. Caspian studies humans without even realizing it. Peeking out the water and quietly analyzing every scene in front of him. Replaying words he learned in his head before he sleeps. You loved that about him. You thought his curiosity to learn more was endearing. Though, sometimes you can’t help but wonder if his curiosity had turned into obsession when you came along. If in that moment you called out to him in the water something had clicked and what started as an innocent interest turned into something more sinister. Possessive. You think about that late at night when his hands wrap around you so tight you could barely breathe. When his claws and teeth dig into your flesh when he takes you and swears that he won’t ever let you go. You know it without needing him to say it out loud; he wants to create his own world to hide the both of you away. Where only you two exist. Nothing else would matter. You know it but you can’t let it get to that point. That’s how you’ve found yourself in this position. Laying with Caspian and placing soft kisses all over his face slowly coaxing him to let you go back tot he surface “I can’t stay here forever..I’ll spend the day there and I’ll come back at night. Or maybe a week here and a week there?” You speak softly as you trail kisses down his neck. Caspian gently grips your jaw so you can look up at him. The familiar pout on his face “What is so important there that you’re willing to leave your mate for the whole day?” He frowns and you smiles and shake your head “I have friends and I have a job..One I still need to take care of. I can’t just disappear.” He looks away, lips twisted in displeasure. You sigh and cup his cheek “Please..” His eyes flicked between yours contemplating before he gives up, letting out a sharp breath and grumbling a “Fine..” You beam and wrap your arms around him “Thank you..I promise you won’t even notice it.” He sighs and pulls you flush against him “Of course I will, but I’ll do it for you. I love you, I want you to come to me not run from me.” You both lay tangled up with each other. He leaves a trail of kisses down the column of your neck, hands rubbing your hips affectionately.

!nsfw!

He gently nips your skins as his hands drift lower “Caspian..” he hums “Yes my love?” he flips you on your back as he continues to kiss down your body “Aren’t you- ah tired?” He laughs and looks up to you as he kisses down your stomach with a glint in his eyes “I’m never tired when it comes to pleasing my mate.” You sigh softly when he gently parts your thighs, your legs resting on his shoulders “You’re so pretty.” He groans before burying his face between your thighs. His long tongue licking your folds before probing at your hold. You moan softly and squirm as his tongue stretches you out “So good- You taste so good..” He stutters as he whimpers “I don’t want anything else. Ever. I just want to make you feel good.” His leaking cock slips out of his slit “Please- hah please can I make you feel good?” You whimper and nod, head clouded as you feel yourself getting closer.

You grind against him chasing your relief when he pulls away. Your body shudders and you whine at the loss. Caspian swallows up your protests, kissing you like he wants to swallow you whole. Letting out shuddered breaths as he rubs his heavy leaking cock up and down your folds “I need you. Please..” He growls and slowly rubs his tip against your hole before pushing it in. You both moan at the stretch. He’s so big and with the sensitivity of your interrupted release you feel yourself getting close again. Your walls tighten around him and you shudder as you finally cum before he’s even bottomed out. Caspian stays still letting you ride it out while you push down on his length mewling and whining. He lets out a low moan as your face contorts in pleasure “My beautiful mate. So beautiful. All mine, you’re all mine.” He snaps his hips and you gasp as his entire length fills you “I can’t hold back- I need you.” He growls and buries his face in your neck as he starts to pound you. Your body moving up and down at the force “Cas- wait I’m sensitive.” His claws dig into your hips as he growls “Again- I wants you to do it again. Together.” Your legs tighten around his waist but he roughly pries them open again, pinning them down as he leans back and watches his cock go in and out of you “Look at us. We fit so perfectly together..” He sucks in a breath “My mates taking me so well. So good for me.” A clawed hand slides up from your thigh to you hips then your stomach and pressing down. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and he hums in satisfaction “I can feel myself here. Does it feel good?” You sob and sputter “It feels so good- Please don’t stop.” He chuckles softly and leans down to gently kiss you.

His thrusts turn sloppy and your hand shoot up to claw at his back “Cas I-“ He kisses you and nods “I know. Let go for me. My mate. Mine, mine, mine..” He growls and buries his head in your neck sinking his teeth into the flesh sending another wave crashing through you. Seconds after you feel his cock twitch and sputter inside you. He doesn’t stop fucking you as his cum fills you up.

You feel some of it slowly dribble out as Caspian slows down. A white ring coating the base of his cock. He slowly moves the both of you to lay on your sides without pulling out. He sighs contentedly as he hugs you close “You did so good for me.” He rubs your back soothingly and kisses the new aching mark on your neck “I love you so much. So so much.” You feel the words threatening to leave your lips for the sole purpose of not leaving his words hanging but bury your face in his chest instead. You let yourself get lost to the sound of his heartbeat as all your thoughts and worries drift away into a sea of nothing.

masterpost masterlist

Tag list:

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[metalheaded-freak]

Why NaruMitsu means so much to me:

Warning: OP is ranting about both Ace Attorney and deep personal connections along with ships

*************************************

Alright I need to get this off my chest before it kills me, and it seems like Tumblr is the best place to do it, so, here goes nothing!

So, for starters I feel like I should just come out and say that I resonate with Phoenix Wright on a deep spiritual level. This fictional bumbling idiot of a lawyer has so much in common with me it’s almost scary. I won’t say a lot cause that would take forever, but what I will say is that our personalities are similar along with our convictions, not understanding how technology works, not having a drivers license, being traumatized by someone (although my trauma was middle school SA) not being able to play the piano, and so on.

I didn’t realize just how much I resonated with him until I got into the Ace Attorney series, and now every time I see him, I see myself. Now how is this relevant? I’ll tell you why.

Next I wanna bring up Phoenix’s interactions with Edgeworth, even before I got into Ace Attorney I was well aware of the NaruMitsu ship and due to me having a thing for Yaoi, I just accepted it without question and not knowing the context.

My first actual exposure to Ace Attorney was this year through the anime, very late to the party I know. But I was hooked, and upon seeing the interactions between Phoenix and Edgeworth, just how far back their relationship went, and watching it blossom over time, it made me realize how they were truly made for each other.

So, I decided to get the entire series on my Switch, and I mean EVERY Ace Attorney game, I wanted to experience what I had missed out on for so many years. I also wanted to see how Phoenix and Edgeworth’s relationship truly evolved throughout all 6 games, cause the anime only showed a little bit of it along with the VAs living for it in the bloopers.

And of course I know about how Shu Takumi did pretty much intend for NaruMitsu to be semi-canon at best along with not only Phoenix and Edgeworth’s designs being based on Yaoi novels, but also how in future games, they changed the dialogue between them to be more romance coded. And GOD do I live for that!

Anyways, now with that out of the way, I think it’s time for me to talk about my stance on three major ships that involve Phoenix and my stance on them. I’m going to be as careful and nice about it as possible so I don’t upset anyone.

The first ship I wanna bring up is Feenris, look, I absolutely LOVE Iris, she’s so precious and honestly deserves all the hugs in the world, she’s truly didn’t deserve to go through what she went through (damn you Dahlia!) but… based on the trauma that both she and Phoenix went through because of Dahlia, I just can’t see it being a healthy relationship. I know trauma bonding isn’t the correct term, and maybe some people out there have healthy relationships due to shared trauma, I wouldn’t know, I’m AroAce. But either way, I just can’t see it working, it’s honestly best if they just stayed as close friends, Hell, I love the idea of Iris acting as an aunt towards Trucy, that would be so cute!

Second ship is NaruMayo, oh jeez, to put it simply, I see Maya as a younger sister figure to Phoenix, not a love interest, they truly are sibling coded to the max. I have five other siblings and let me tell you the antics I see are pretty reminiscent of my interactions with my siblings, so I just don’t see it.

The third one is KrisNix… I uh… to put it delicately, this ship sorta reminds me of my middle school trauma… so… that’s all I’m gonna say.

Now the reason why I call these three ships out is because I tend to put myself in Phoenix’s position and imagine what it would be like for me too. And I just don’t see it working, I know this is a very stupid thing, but I do it unconsciously and tbh I’m very overprotective of Phoenix since he feels like an extension of myself.

But when it comes to Edgeworth, from everything I’ve seen between him and Phoenix, there’s just no doubt in my mind that he’s the one. They’ve known each other for so long, Phoenix changed his major just to meet Edgeworth again, Edgeworth traveled back to Japanifornia after hearing about Phoenix’s bridge incident via his private jet, the list goes on and on! Bottom line is, you only do that stuff for someone you truly love.

The chemistry between them is undeniable, I just can’t see one or the other with someone else, it feels… wrong. They truly are soulmates, and hey, I’ve been in the Danmei scene long enough to know what the term “soulmates” actually means.

So this is why NaruMitsu means so much to me, Hell, if I wasn’t AroAce, I’d want a partner like Edgeworth, I’m not even joking.

Also I felt like adding that I enjoy Ace Attorney completely for everything it has to offer, the stories and characters are amazing, I’m so glad I got into it! Cause damn did I miss out back then!

Alright, I’ve gone on long enough about this, and I feel like if I rant any further things’ll get messy, so let’s cut it off here. If you took the time to read this very personal rant that I just HAD to get out in a relatively safe space that probably won’t judge me as harshly, I appreciate it. And please, be kind in the comments!

*************************************

[igotatasteforoldermendelrey]

To call you mine.

Picture from lydiatovey on Pinterest.

A/N : hi guys! It’s been a while… Sorry about that. Anyway I’m back with some dbf!joel x reader. Hope you will like it.

English is not my first language, you might find mistakes in there.

+18

Ship : dbf!Joel x reader

Summary : after getting caught by the cops at a rave party you didn’t want to go in the first place, you call Joel to come get you out. Follows an interesting night…

Warnings : age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, Joel in his mid forties), angst, feelings, mention of drugs (not used by any of them), subjective themes, cursing, happy ending!

If I forgot anything, please tell me!

I do not consent to any of my work to be translated or posted anywhere else without my permission.

Banners made on Pinterest.

A single mistake and it messed everything up. You weren’t like that. You were not reckless, greedy and stupid. Your friend had to convince you for one week to accompany her to this rave everyone was talking about. Habitually you would’ve said no, justifying your refusal by saying you had to work for you exams. However, your exams passed you couldn’t use it as an excuse now and Monica knew it. She dragged you to this party only to leave you as you as the cops showed up.

That how you find yourself in this cell, sat on a bench, your make up smudged all over your face. It was a shit week, a shit day and an even shittier evening. It wasn’t even a nice party, people that were high on drugs screaming in your ears on beat to an awful sound.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a cop calling out your last name. You raised your stare to look at him.

Your dad’s here to get you. Come on. He opened the cell door and let you out, walking behind you to the front desk.

You knew really well that the man that was going to be waiting on you wasn’t your father. Hell your real dad would have skinned you alive. You already knew the man was going to be pissed and when the door opened in front of you, you weren’t surprised to find Joel scolding, his hip cocked against the counter.

It was two in the morning. Even for a Sunday Joel was long asleep when the ring of his phone woke him up. He could have said no and leave you to face the consequences of your actions but he couldn’t. He could already see your sad eyes in his head, your lips wobbling.

When you stopped in front of him, he didn’t acknowledge you and turned toward the man behind the counter, ready to pay your bail. You were cold, shiver apparent on your skin, you had a headache and you were sure it was going to be even worse when the old man will scold you.

Joel finished his business and turn towards you, grunting a let’s go while pushing you toward the exit. He still didn’t talk to you, walking in front of you toward his truck. You climbed in the passenger seat, looking at the window. The older man turned on the heating, seeing you were still trembling in the tiny little thing you called a dress.

You drove several minutes in utter silence, the light in the street the only thing distracting you from the man seated not so far from you. His grip on the wheel was tight, so tight his knuckles were turning white.

Aren’t you gonna say something or do you plan on doing a silent treatment until you die?

What do you want me to say? I’m not your father.

That’s not what the cop seemed to think. You replied with a smirk and turned to look at him.

He sighed. What has gotten into you? You’re not like that. You’re a good girl, you don’t get in trouble. So what was that?

I just wanted to have some fun it’s not that big of a deal. A roll of eyes.

Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know you’re aware of what getting arrested could’ve led to if I wasn’t there to save your ass. Is this again because of your friend Tracey?

Trac- Are you talking about Monica?

Yes. Since you know here you’re always unbothered by everything. Like a brat.

I’m a big girl, Joel. I don’t need you to lecture me.

And yet I had to come get your ass because you couldn’t call your father.

You know damn well he would’ve let me there.

Yes he would’ve. Maybe I should’ve. He muttered as if he was scolding himself for even answering the phone.

So why did you come? You pressed him, getting slightly closer.

Because I didn’t want you to die of hypothermia in those… are those underwear? He took a double look at your outfit, his eyes widening.

They’re not mine. You pulled the bottom of your dress to cover more skin. Monica said that’s how everyone at a rave dressed up.

And since when have you stopped thinking by yourself?

Oh come on, Joel. I’m graduating college this summer. I just wanted to let loose a little before getting serious again.

Couldn’t you just go to a bar or something? Like everyone.

I didn’t even want to go there. She persuaded me.

And where was she when the cops showed up? Your silence answered his questions. You need to change of friends. They’re no good for you.

You didn’t reply and content to look out the window. When Joel parked his truck in front of your building, you searched your bag for your keys.

Fuck me. You groaned, eyes closed.

What?

My keys are at Monica’s. I was supposed to go back at her place to get my stuff. Fuck. I’m so fucking dumb. Your eyes were tingling, the tears not far away.

Joel started the car again, driving off the parking lot.

Where are we going?

At mine. It’s not like you can show up at your father’s dressed like that and at this time.

You didn’t move away from your spot close to him, your shoulders brushing.

Joel knew you were trouble. He has known it since he met you. The first time your father presented you to him, you were freshly back from college, coming home for a month during summer. You were radiant, a grin fixed on your lips, talking easily with him. This day is engraved in his mind, the way your dress was flowing around you, the smell of your perfume, the one you were still wearing today. You were in your early twenties while he was in late thirties to not say he was going to be forty in a month. Nothing could happen here and yet his body seemed to completely ignore his morals. As soon as you were in his vicinity it seemed like he was physically pulled towards your father’s house, towards you.

The worse is that you never blandly did anything that could justify his reaction. You never flirted with him, never stayed too long in the living room when he was over to watch tv with your father. You acted normally like a twenty something would do with an older man like him around. And yet, he was sure you weren’t blind to the effects you had on him. Sometimes he could swear you would stare at him a little longer than you should or laugh a little louder to his joke. Still, he didn’t say anything since he couldn’t prove that this impression were not fabricated by his perverted mind.

Thank you for coming get me. You whispered, watching his side.

You owe me one.

You want me to get on my knees to thank you? You asked with a smirk.

He chocked on his saliva. That was a first. You never so openly acknowledged any kind of attraction toward him.

Y/n, come on… You can say shit like that.

Why? It’s not like they’re not true.

What? He refused to look at you, he knew one look at his face and you would realise how flustered he was.

I’ve seen the way you look at me Joel. The way you have to fix your pants every time I’m near. I’m not dumb, I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

You’re imagining things, sweets.

If it conforts you thinking that.

~~~

You were in his house. For the first time you got the chance to take a look at his personal belongings. His house was neatly arranged, no forgotten cup on the coffee table, no trace of dirty dishes. Every lights were turned off, a trace of the fact he was asleep when you called.

When you’re done inspecting every inch of my house will you want to take a shower? He asked you without emotions.

If it doesn’t bother you too much.

You’re already bothering me. Might as well do that clean.

Ahah. You’re so funny. You brushed past him, walking into his kitchen. You didn’t even ask before you started opening his cabinets in the search of a glass. When you find one you took it to the sink and put some water in it.

Joel should be bothered by the fact you were acting as if you were at your own place. He should be. He wasn’t. The vision of you standing in his kitchen, getting a glass of water as if you were accustomed was truly doing marvellous things to his mind. He cleared his throat before his mind explode.

Did you… did you take anything tonight? Like any substances I should be aware of in case you wake up not feeling well?

No. They offered me stuff though.

You refused?

Yeah. I didn’t want to be found dancing naked in the middle of a road in the morning. You finished your glass of water, putting it in the sink. So, where is this shower you promised me?

He showed you upstairs where was his bathroom, got clothes for you since he didn’t want you to stay in your dirty, and tiny, clothes. Here, he placed on the sink sweatshirt and sweat pants. Should fit you.

Thank you. You replied, walking him to the door before pushing it, not closing it fully to tease him even more.

You didn’t know what has gotten into you. Probably when you saw him at the police station, his calm yet angry expression when you came out of the cell. You didn’t miss the panic in his eyes that was quickly replaced by anger when he was sure you were alright. The truth was that you were tired of hiding your attraction, tired of acting like you didn’t want him, no, needed him. You were hoping he would come in the bathroom and get in the shower with you, maybe to punish you for the way you acted. He didn’t do such thing and when you walked out of the bathroom he was gone, you could hear the tv downstairs. You made your way downstairs, wet hair tangled on your shoulders.

He was seated on the couch, pillow in hand, trying to fix himself his bed for the night.

What are you doing? You asked him, your back against a wall.

He looked up at you, staring a second too long at the way his clothes were hugging your form, getting to touch your skin in a way he wanted to. Glad it… he cleared his throat. Fits.

It’s not a surprise, you’re like much bigger than me. Anyway. What are you doing?

My bed?

No you’re not.

Excuse me? He raised his brow.

I already woke you up in the middle of the night, get you to come get me from the police station I’m not gonna steal your bed.

You’re not stealing, I’m offering.

Yeah, you’re offering to break your back.

Take the bed, sweet. I won’t move from here. He replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

As you wish. You sighed, getting back upstairs.

You laid down on his bed, the mattress framing you perfectly. His sheets smelled like him making your mind believe that he was next to you, sleeping. You wished that was the case, only wanting to put your head in his neck, to kiss him like he was yours. Shaking the fantaisies away, you let sleep take you away.

~~~

One hour later.

You woke up covered in sweat, your breathing uneven. Pushing back your hair from your face you tried to get back to sleep unsuccessfully. Deciding you needed water, you got up and went downstairs and there he was, laying on his back on the couch, fast asleep. He seemed peaceful like that, his habitual frown nowhere to be seen, fully relaxed. Until he wasn’t. He noticed you were there even though you made no sound.

Sweetheart? Are you okay? He asked, sleep clear in his voice.

I-… I don’t know. You were standing his living room, your fingers fidgeting.

Come here. He sat up, patting the spot next to him. What’s going on?

Do you think I will find it again? You asked as you sat down.

What?

A purpose. I had one during college. It was to graduate but now that’s going to happen soon… I just… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway, I shouldn’t have woken you up.

You will. Really. You will as long as you didn’t accomplish everything you wanted. He replied while putting his arm around you after you put your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at him, his breath falling on your face. The atmosphere changed, your breathing patterns changed. He was looking down at you with something darker, deeper something he could never confess. You tried to get closer, to close the gap until he kept you still with his arm.

We can’t.

Why? You hated the way you sounded begging.

Because I’m older, because you’re tired, because of your father, because it’s not supposed to happen.

What’s supposed to happen then?

You find someone your age, not too boring marry them, I die alone.

I don’t agree. Yes I’m tired but still capable to consent. It’s not new this… attraction. I always felt it. You did too. We want it. And for the rest, fuck it.

Fuck it? He snorted. Baby, you know we can’t, your father would kill the both of us. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. I’m older, wiser- not more intelligent. He interrupted you before you could make a snarky comment. We are almost twenty years apart, honey. You still have so much time to figure out what you want.

I want you. Please Joel… I need you. You begged, clutching his shirt in your hand. Even if it’s just for one night.

With you it cannot be just for one night. He crashed his lips on yours, pulling you on his lap.

~~~

He was holding you close to his bare chest, kissing your shoulder.

You mess with my mind. He muttered in your skin, his breath tickling you.

Because you don’t? You turned in his arms. I got a job offer here in Austin. You caught the glimpse of hope in his his before he hid it away. I’m going to accept it.

So… you’re staying?

You nodded. Joel I was serious when I said I didn’t want that, us, to be just for one night.

So you want to sneak out? He asked with a small smile.

As long as we will need to.

And then?

If you’re as serious about me as I am about you then we make it official. Even to my father.

Can I take you on a date first? You both laughed at that. He took your head between his hands, his legs tangles with yours. Are you sure?

Yes, sir. You mocked a salute to which he groaned.

He sighed out of relief, tightening his embrace on you. You could feel sleep getting to you, not fighting against it this time, leaving Joel’s breathing pattern lull you to sleep.

You don’t know how much I wanted to call you mine. He whispered in your hair before kissing the top of your hair, unsure if you heard him. You did, a small smile on your lips.

[tubborucho]

***

"You weren't here on Thursday".

Pangi doesn't even take a step inside when he starts talking, and Lukey sends him a deadpan look, but can't help but smile widely immediately after.

"That's because I don't work here on Thursdays, obviously".

"Well, how could I have known that, hm?" Pangi walks up to the counter and leans in on it, raising his sunglasses up, and Lukey meets his gaze now.

"You could've, you know, asked me. That was an option", Lukey lets lighthearted sarcasm drip into his voice, and he leans on the counter as well, matching Pangi's energy.

"Na-aha", Pangi shakes his head. "You should've told me. I am your most loyal and handsome customer. Also I am 6ft tall, humble and feminist".

Lukey laughs. Bright and loud.

"Okay, okay, I will let you win this one", he barely manages to say through giggling.

Pangi looks at him with a very smug expression, and Lukey finds that he kind of likes that look on him.

"What did you want anyway? Newt said your godson loved the bouquet?"

Pangi lights up, when his godson – was it Dapper? – is mentioned.

"Oh yeah. He is not the biggest into flowers, it would more go to my friend's goddaughter, but he likes classifications and interesting facts about stuff and collecting plants, so it worked".

"He seems like a good kid", Lukey's smile softens, and so does Pangi's.

"He is. A huge bully, though. So mean to me sometimes", his voice and entire facial expression are soaking with affection, and Lukey decides that actually, maybe he likes that better than the smug look.

"Yeah, kids can be like that", Lukey agrees. "I am not anyone's godfather, but one of my close friends has a daughter, and she is a blast".

"Speaking of", Pangi's gaze leaves Lukey for the first time in however long they have been chatting, "I actually do need another bouquet, a big one. A really big one, because I am a few days late. Your fault, by the way, you let me down on Thursday by not being here".

"What?" Lukey spits out, incredulous. The audacity of this guy. "Don't blame me for your shortcomings! Newt was here, and he was perfectly able to help you!"

Pangi shakes his head in joking exasperation.

"No-no. You are the person who sells me flowers now. Your job. So sell me some flowers, Lukey Lucas".

Lukey just sighs.

"Okay. What do you need?"

"My godson's godmother said that if I am not going to get her a bouquet as well, she will tell my most embarrassing secrets to everyone", Pangi lowers his voice at the end, like this is a scary secret as well. Lukey chimes in by playing ip his facial reactions too. "And she is the meanest woman to exist, let me tell you. I don't even know what embarrassing secrets I supposedly have, but I don't doubt she will find some".

"Damn, that's serious, dude", Lukey barely holds back laughter to not break the bit. "Don't worry, your favourite florist will save the day once again".

"My hero", Pangi goes into the anime voice, and it breaks Lukey into a giggling fit once again.

But he does get out from behind the counter and almost bumps into Pangi, who moves out of his way the last second. A bit awkward, and Pangi sends him a look. Lukey doesn't really understand what this look means.

"I assume we are going the 'overcompliment her' route?"

"Yes, yes. I need her to like me on the next family and friends hang out".

Lukey hums in understanding, and quickly makes a bouquet.

He did read a couple of flower meanings and histories books that Newt had over the weekend, so the solution came easy.

Pink lilies. Pink amaryllises. White carnations. And Queen Anne's Lace to fill it up properly. The bouquet looks very princess-like and puffy.

"Here. Admiration, friendship, playful love, good luck wishes and protection. Should be adorable enough to buy you some points in her eyes. Or do you want to go a more romantic route?" he asks casually and almost gets startled than Pangi goes into a coughing fit.

"No!" he exclaims between coughs, chocked on air, and Lukey did not expect to startle the guy so bad. "God no, completely platonic. I think Tina would kill me if I ever even insinuated anything else, and frankly, I support her in that", Pangi shakes his head violently.

Lukey raises his brows but doesn't go further.

"Just checking. Is this good then?"

"Perfect, as always", Pangi grabs the bouquet from Lukey's hands nervously, which is stupid, because he will need to give it back anyway so he can wrap it properly and tie with a ribbon.

"Then, let's check you out".

"Oh, you can check me out anytime", Pangi winks, not quite escaping the chaotic anxious energy Lukey accidentally created in him. However, fake flirting is a game Lukey can play well enough.

"Oh, I will", he promises, his voice deep and meaningful, which earn him a startled but excited smile out of Pangi. "But now about this bouquet".

(When Pangi leaves, Lukey finds himself wishing he would stay just a bit longer).

It's a normal day at the 'Poppy of the valley' flower shop.

Well, normal by Mondays standards, because it's the only day Lukey works a shift here to give Newt – the owner and his very best friend/roommate – a day off (that he would otherwise refuse to take).

He accepts the supply of chrysanthemums, asters and anemones, wraps a couple of random bouquets for the showcase and sells two kids a rose for their mom's birthday. Overall, Lukey is dying of boredom, because practically nobody needs flowers on Monday at 11am at the start of April.

That until a guy slams the door open, finds Lukey behind the counter and crosses the shop in two seconds to forcefully place a twenty euros banknote in front of him.

"How do I say 'Fuck you, I hope you die' with flowers?"

or, I decided to try to write a Pangkey Flowershop AU as a reblog thread fic

[colourobserver]

A lot of people are not going to like me for saying this but…it needs to be said. And no one is even going to read this but…vent time!

For starters,

MOVIE TERESA AND BOOK TERESA ARE VERY, VERY DIFFERENT.

I know that people realise that movie Teresa only got her memories later on and made her decision on whether the gladers should be given up for a cure. Yet people seem to miss the fact that this DOESN’T happen in the books. So let’s talk about some things book Teresa has done.

Just so it’s clear, I UNDERSTAND why people don’t hate Teresa. I understand people not thinking she is evil, OKAY? I get that. Bc when I too look at the situation of The Maze Runner from an outside perspective without emotional attachments to the characters I can understand the importance of doing what they could to find a cure. The good of the many and all that jazz.

Now something that people SOMEHOW seem to forget is that book Teresa DIDN’T just do things for ‘the good of the many’ and even when she did she was super heartless about it. She cared for Thomas a whole lot more than anyone else so I don’t believe it’s a matter of her wanting to save everyone too.

1. In the books Teresa knew basically EVERYTHING—even if she didn’t she knew enough—that was going to happen to the boys. At times one word could have saved lots of lives and Wicked still would have got their variables or whatever. For instance she knew Chuck was going to be controlled by Wicked to jump in front of Thomas when Gally shoots him. The same way they were forcing Gally. She also knew other stuff that was happening in the trials for like how she could have at least said something about IDK MAYBE THE BIG MOLTEN METAL BALLS THAT LITERALLY BURNT THOSE KIDS ALIVE.

2. In the end when she planned on saving Thomas and no one else. UMM SO WE JUST FORGOT THAT THAT HAPPENED? It is crazy to me how people portray Teresa as super caring of everyone and stuff bc if YOU were in the maze she would not give two shits if you lived or died. As well as how everyone but Thomas were ‘subjects’ to her.

3. Teresa’s whole ‘I love you Thomas. We’re in this together’ and not only lying to him about the fact he was going to have his memory swiped and not her but manipulating him into comforting her in that bit in fever code that she says “tell me that we’ll survive this. Tell me that we will save our friends together”—something like that anyways. She KNEW the maze was gonna kill most of the kids yet she made Thomas say that right before she let Paige drug him and wipe his memories etc.

4. Teresa’s whole ‘if I didn’t go with Wicked’s plan they would have killed you Thomas” really says a lot about her care for literally anyone that ISN’T Thomas.

5. Teresa’ reaction to Minho calling her a traitor in the scorch when she shrugged and said “I’m sick of apologising. I did what I had to to” like that is SO insensitive to EVERYTHING Minho went through! Have you no empathy???

6. Before that when she whacked Thomas on the head with a gas chamber and spear much more than even necessary has me with mixed feelings about how much she truly loves Thomas or whether she was just attached to him. Maybe it was more of a possession thing? We always talk about male love interests being possessive but not the girl…but that a whole other thing.

7. Teresa having the AUDACITY to telepathically tell Thomas when he was kidnapped and put into a white room for like ever that “wicked is good” ehh, ever heard of time and place?

I also hate the whole “you just don’t get her like I do” like yes, if you are talking about the fact she wanted to save everyone and not just a select few then YES in fact any one with a bloody moral compass can see that. You are allowed to feel that way, ofc you are. But no, you aren’t understanding her on a deeper level you are understanding something that everyone should be able to understand.

And then movie Teresa…I don’t rlly care if you love her or not. Mostly because she actually showed guilt when torturing Minho. I personally don’t like her either but I don’t hate her.

(Also I think that if movie Teresa wasn’t so conventionally attractive she wouldn’t be nearly as liked. I’ve literally had someone tell me that she’s their favourite character because she’s so ‘hot’.

Yall im in a war zone saying this but oh well.

[justallmyfantasies]

say you’ll say yes

he’ll need someone by his side

series masterlist (part one)

contains: 18+ smut (unprotected piv) i think that’s all. i can’t remember lolol

word count: 4.4k

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

you wanted to meet this hotel that alex had been banging on about. never stopped talking about it. seemed like he was more interested in it than he was you.

alex stood behind the desk, staring at your figure as you walked closer towards him. you smiled at him, a sign of approval that you liked the hotel.

“hello, love. what can i do for you?” he laughed out, messing with you.

you played along. “i heard the owner wanted to talk with me?” you propped your elbows onto the desk and your hands up to your face. alex laughed at you.

alex chuckled, amused by your playful demeanor. he leaned forward on the desk, making eye contact with you. "ah, the owner." he feigned innocence, though a hint of mischief danced in his eyes. "and who might i say is looking for him?"

you looked right into his eyes. his face failing to keep straight. you twirled a piece of your hair and thought for a second. “the girl he fucks most nights.” you whisper. “isn’t that right, alex?”

alex's amused expression turned to surprise, his eyes widened for just a moment. “jesus christ, keep it down.” he broke the eye contact and the game.

you chuckled, satisfied with getting a flustered reaction from alex. "oh come on, don't be embarrassed now. we both know its true." you leaned in closer to him.

alex's ears got tinted pink. he glanced around, making sure no one was nearby listening in. "keep your voice down, will you?" he lowered his voice as well.

you loved seeing him get flustered like this. it was an endearing side of him that only you knew. you leaned in even further, your face now inches away from his. “i love teasing you, you know that right?”

alex’s breath hitched for a moment. he swallowed before regaining his composure. “i swear, you’re going to scare the guests away one day.” his voice was a mixture of annoyance and affection.

you couldn’t help but smile at his response. “i’ll try to keep it down then.” you paused for a moment, looking around at the hotel in front of you. “so, alexander, you’re the owner of this bad boy, hmm?”

alex nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes as he looked around as well. “yeah, i’m the one running the show here.” he leaned against the desk, his arms crossed. he turned his gaze back to you. “what do you think? does it meet your standards?”

you pretended to ponder for a moment, making a show of inspecting the place from head to toe. “hmm..” you pursed your lips, feigning disappointment. “the furniture is a tad bit outdated.” you said, jokingly.

his head shot up to look at you. “outdated?” alex huffed. “i like it.”

you put your hands up in defense, laughing. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding. although… the chandelier could look better.”

alex raised an eyebrow at your comment, a smirk playing on his lips. “oh, really now? you’re quite fussy, aren’t you?”

you laughed at him. “well, you asked if it met my standards. the chandelier just doesn’t fit in this massive room. it looks tiny.”

alex leaned in, folding his arms on the desk. “and i suppose you have a better one in mind, don’t you?”

you pretended to think for a moment. “well… maybe i do.” you said, a mischievous look in your eyes. “anyway. are you gonna give me a tour of this place like you promised?”

alex rolled his eyes in mock annoyance, but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “alright, alright. i’ll give you the grand tour.” he pushed himself away from the desk and gestured for you to follow him. “come on, then. let me show you around.”

you eagerly followed him as he led you through the hotel. you looked around, taking in the details of the halls, the artwork and the different rooms. alex guided you, pointing out specific details and offering tidbits of information about each area.

as the tour continued, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for alex’s accomplishment. the hotel was truly stunning, and he clearly had great pride in it.

as you both walked, you kept your eye on alex. he chatted enthusiastically about the hotel, clearly passionate about everything he pointed out. his eyes lit up as he talked, and he made sure to give you his full undivided attention, glancing at you every now and then.

every few moments, a guest would come out of nowhere and greet him and then pass. you thought it was nice to see him like this.

eventually, you reached the end of the tour. alex led you to the last room, an office for himself. “and here’s my personal office.. spend most of my time in here.” he said, opening the door and walking inside.

you followed him in, taking in the sight. a large heavy-looking desk with a comfortable looking chair, and a couple bookshelves lined with various titles. it was a cozy space, fit for someone as hardworking as alex. you walked over to one of the bookshelves, running your fingers along the spines of the books.

you turned to look at him staring down at a model placed onto a table. a model of a modern looking hotel. it was mesmerising to look at. “i’d like to imagine having a hotel like this one day.” he said, not taking his eyes off of the model.

you watched him admire his own model. it was amazing to think about. alex was already successful, but he had even more dreams he needed to fulfil, and you knew he would achieve them.

he tore his gaze away from the model, looking at you. his face had a sort of longing look to it, like he was thinking about more than just the hotel.

“yeah?” you asked.

“yeah. i like the idea of it.” he paused for a few moments. “maybe having someone like you by my side helping, would make things better too.”

you walked over to him, standing right beside him. you looked at the model as well, imagining the future he spoke of. it was weird. you weren’t dating nor were you anything like that. it was just casual. there was no labels.

“you know? sitting at front desk, checking the guests in and me sitting right next to you, coffee in hand, staring at every possible thing you do. i like the thought of it. you and me being a team.” he said, now looking at you.

“you’ve got quite the ambition, you know that?” you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

he smiled, his eyes still focused on the model. “well, a man’s gotta dream big, right?”

you both stood there for a while, studying the model in comfortable silence. his words had caused a strange feeling in your chest, but you brushed it off.

you looked over to alex, admiring his profile. he really was attractive, with a strong jaw and messy hair that was usually gelled back. “did you mean that? you know, having someone like me by your side?” you asked.

after you spoke, he turned to you. he stared at your face for a few moments, as if taking in every feature of your face. “yes, i did mean it.” he said almost instantly. “i’ve gotten quite used to having you around.“

you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your chest at his words. he seemed serious with what he was saying, and it caught you off guard. you chuckled awkwardly. “and what about all of this? the casualness of us?” you couldn’t help being curious.

alex leaned back against the desk, his eyes still on you. he didn’t look bothered by your question, like he'd already thought about it before. “well, it is nice. but who’s to say we can’t work together and still continue like this?” he smirked, a little bit of mischief crept back into his eyes.

you huffed out a half-amused sigh, not sure what to make of his words. “so we’re staying casual?”

“doesn’t need a label, right?” he looked at you for a bit, his eyes softening at the sight of you. “labels complicate things, don’t you think so?”

you let out a breath, running your hand through your hair. it was true, labels did complicate things. “yeah. i guess you’re right about that.” you smiled at him, but it was more of a half-hearted smile. somehow you didn’t feel completely satisfied with his answer.

you both stayed in silence for a couple of minutes. the pair of you staring at the model figure that was in front.

after a bit, alex pushed himself up from the desk. he walked over to you and stood right in front of you. he didn’t say anything, he just looked down at you. your breath hitched a bit, the space between you suddenly felt much smaller.

you looked up at him, your eyes wandering across his face. his eyes held an intense look, his lips were parted slightly. you could sense an air of desire around him. he raised his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. the touch sent a shiver down your spine. “you’ve dyed it again.” he assumed.

you felt a mixture of butterflies and annoyance in your stomach. he’d noticed your hair. “yeah, i have.” you tried to keep your voice steady, acting as if his touch didn’t affect you.

he hummed, his fingers trailing down your cheek now. “suits you.”

you leaned slightly into his touch, your mind getting fuzzy. his fingers felt cold against your skin, and it was impossible to ignore the tingling feeling that it gave you. “you’re just saying that.” you muttered.

he chuckled, his hand moving to your chin, tilting your head up slightly. “i mean it.” he leaned in closer to you, his face only a few inches away. his eyes were now burning with desire, and the space between you was almost non-existent.

your heart was hammering in your chest at this point. you felt the heat radiating from his body, it was making your mind go haywire. your eyes darted to his lips, which were so incredibly close to yours.

“alex..” you whispered, your voice coming out as a strained breath. your hands followed straight to his cheeks and your lips instantly connected to his.

the kiss was intense and hungry. alex responded immediately, his free hand finding its way to your hip, pulling you closer to him and the edge of the his desk.

he kissed you with a mixture of passion and something else. something deeper. it felt as if he was trying to pour all of his long-held feelings into the kiss.

alex's hands had started to explore as well. his large hand gently slid up your back, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in its wake, and then slipped under the hem of your shirt.

after what felt like minutes, your lips finally parted for a moment, both of you panting lightly. alex stayed close to your face, his forehead resting on yours.

“your hands are cold.” you laughed. his hands were never warm, always cold. a shiver ran down your spine.

he huffed a laugh, his lips brushing against yours as he talked. “yeah, never warm.” his hand started caressing your skin under your shirt. it was now your turn to shiver at the touch.

“your skin makes up for it, though. it’s always so warm.” he teased, tracing shapes on your back.

you rolled your eyes at his comment, but couldn’t help but enjoy his touch. it sent tingles all over your body. alex continued to trace patterns on your back, his touch growing more gentle. you pushed yourself closer to him, closing the small gap between you. his chest was now flushed against yours.

he chuckled, feeling the way you were responding to his touch. “easy now. don’t get carried away.” he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling you.

his lips left a trail of light kisses along your jawline and down your neck, making your breath hitch with each one. you could feel the heat from his lips and the rough scratches of his beard, which sent a wave of pleasure through you.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. you let out a soft moan, tilting your head back to give him better access to your neck.

alex took advantage of this, his kisses becoming more purposeful and his bites more playful. he knew exactly which spots made you weak, and he made sure to make you squirm.

“don’t make them noticeable! my mother will have questions.” you lightly scolded.

he laughed against your skin. “can’t promise that.” his lips moved lower, now nipping and sucking at your collarbone, leaving little red spots on your skin. he could feel the little tremors going through your body, and it only encouraged him further.

you closed your eyes, simply letting the pleasure wash over you. alex moved his hands to your thighs, gripping them firmly and lifting you up properly onto the desk once more. he positioned himself between your legs, his body now completely pressing against yours.

he tugged on your hips, pulling you flush against him, his mouth returning to your neck. he left a trail of hot kisses down to your collarbone, biting and sucking at just the right spots. you were putty in his hands, your head thrown back, giving him complete access. his touch was addictive, and you found yourself craving more of it.

alex left a final mark on your neck before pulling away. he looked down at you, his eyes scanning over your face. your hair was slightly mussed, lips swollen, and a light flush covered your cheeks.

he let out a low rumble, a sound of appreciation at the sight of you like this. “my, my. you’re quite the sight, aren’t you?”

you gave him a weak glare, still trying to catch your breath. his words and his touch had left you flustered, no witty remark on your tongue.

alex chuckled, his smirk only growing wider. “no comeback?” he teased, his hands moving to your thighs, rubbing small circles with his thumbs.

“shut up.” you muttered, your voice wavering a bit. you weren’t sure how he had this effect on you.

he took notice of your attempt to hide just how affected you were, and he found it amusing. he continued his slow, torturous circles on your thighs, his lips now hovering millimeters from your ear. “there she is. now, do you want me as much as i want you?”

“i think it’s quite obvious.” you managed to reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

alex hummed, his lips now trailing down your neck again, leaving a path of kisses along the way. as he nibbled on your jawline, he gently pushed your legs apart, widening the space between your thighs. “thought so.” his hands trailed up your skirt, torturing the skin.

you couldn’t help but shiver as his fingers grazed your inner thighs. the touch was light, almost teasing, but it made your heart rate increase.

“alex..” you sighed, a mixture of pleading and frustration in your voice. he knew what he was doing, and knew the effect it had on you.

he chuckled against your neck, his breath hot on your skin. “sh. don’t want people outside to hear, do we?”

you bit your lip, trying to hold back a gasp as his fingers continued to graze against your skin. he was toying with you, enjoying how riled up he had you.

“alex. stop teasing me.” you said through gritted teeth. you wanted him to stop this game of his and actually do something about the tension that had built up.

alex let out a low rumble, the sound travelling straight between your thighs. “patience, love.” he whispered in your ear, his voice deep and gravelly.

he left a couple more kisses on your neck, before finally moving his hands slowly up your skirt. he paused when they reached the edge of your underwear, his fingers lightly tracing the lace.

you almost whimpered, your body aching for more friction. his touch was light and gentle, teasing. it wasn’t enough, and he knew it. “alex, i swear to god..” you started to say, but you were cut off by a soft gasp as his fingers finally traced along the edge of your underwear.

he gave a low, satisfied laugh. he could feel how much you wanted him, and he was relishing in it. he pushed the fabric aside, running his fingers along your sensitive skin. “you’re so wet already.” he murmured against your ear. the words sent a wave of heat through you.

you let out a strangled moan, your head falling back. his touch was driving you mad, the slow pace he was taking was maddening. you felt yourself getting more and more worked up under his touch, and you hated it.

“alex please.." you begged, your voice trembling. you were fully at his mercy now, desperate for him to give you the release you craved.

alex could sense your desperation, how you were aching for more. his eyes met yours, a smirk on his lips. “since you asked so nicely…” he teased. he removed his hand from you and attempted to unbuckle his belt.

you clenched your legs together slightly at the sight of him unbuttoning his trousers, the heat coursing through you. your body was hypersensitive now, and the slightest touch would send chills through you.

alex undid his belt and unzipperd his trousers, and you could already see the bulge growing in his boxers. he was just as affected as you were. he pulled them down, the fabric pooling around his ankles.

he took a step closer to you, positioning himself between your legs once more. he leaned down towards you, his hands resting on your waist. “hold on to me.” he commanded, his voice low and hoarse.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers digging into his back. you could feel the tension between the two of you, and it was almost palpable.

alex moved his hips forward, pressing himself against you. you could feel how hard he was, and it only heightened the ache inside you. he let out a low groan, one of his hands pushing your panties aside and the other rested on your hip.

he positioned himself right at your entrance, the tip of him rubbing against you and the sensation was almost too much. you let out a gasp, your body trembling in anticipation.

alex paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you. your flushed cheeks, and your eyes darkened with desire, your lips slightly parted. he couldn’t help but find himself lost in the moment. he held your gaze, his eyes burning with intensity. “you okay with this, yeah?”

you swallowed, trying to compose yourself enough to form words. “yes. i’m okay with this.” you managed to say. you trusted him, and you were more than okay with this.

alex nodded, satisfied with your answer. he started to push himself into you, slowly. the sensation was overwhelming as he filled you. a low gasp escaped your lips, your arms holding him.

he moved his hips slowly at first, his forehead against yours. his breathing was heavy, and he seemed to be struggling to control himself.

you felt like your mind was going to spin, the sensation of him inside you was almost too much. you clutched onto him, desperately trying to ground yourself. he began to pick up the pace slowly, each thrust making you moan a little louder. he leaned down, his lips now at the lobe of your ear. “you need to quiet down, please.”

you dug your nails into the back of his neck whilst biting your lip, trying to keep yourself quiet. it was hard though, he knew exactly how to make you feel good.

his pace started to pick up, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. he swallowed down his own moans, focusing on not making too much noise. he took a hold of your hips, his grip firm but steady.

the pleasure was building up inside you, your breathing growing more and more ragged. your moans got louder, but you tried to keep them in. the sounds of his ragged breathing and his low groans right next to your ear weren’t helping either.

“alex-” you gasped his name, your voice coming out as a high-pitched whine.

he could hear the pleading in your voice, and it almost pushed him over the edge. he could feel how close you were, and he knew he was too.

“almost there, love.” he panted, his voice strained. he picked up the pace of his thrusts, his fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips. he leaned down, kissing your lips. the kiss was sloppy and messy, it wasn’t like a normal kiss.

you kissed him back, your lips frantically searching for his. you couldn’t form any words, your mind lost in the pleasure that was building up rapidly.

he continued to thrust into you, his movements desperate now. his kisses found your neck, hot and messy kisses, mixed with slight bites. it was all getting to be too much, the sensations were overwhelming and you couldn’t stay quiet. “al, i’m gonna come.”

the words you uttered only encouraged him. he wanted to bring you over the edge, he wanted to make you come. he angled his hips, hitting deeper. “come for me, love." he groaned, his voice sounding as wrecked as he was.

the combination of his words and his movements sent you over the edge. the tension that had been building up in you for the past few minutes finally reached its breaking point. you came hard, your body shaking and a moan got stuck in your chest.

alex followed you not too long after, a deep groan escaping his lips, stifled against your neck. his movements became more erratic, and he held onto your hips tightly. he held you against him, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you both. your minds were a blissful blank.

after a few moments, you both came down from your high, panting and trying to catch your breath. alex leaned back slightly, looking at you. a smile tugged at the edge of his lips.

you were both still holding onto each other, trying to come back to reality. the room was silent, save for the sounds of both your heavy breathing.

alex’s eyes were fixed on you, taking in the sight in front of him. you were flushed and your hair was messy. you looked a proper sight, a sight he felt privileged to see. “mhm.” he huffed, a wide smile now spread across his face.

you met his gaze, your lids still heavy from the pleasurable high you were now coming down from. the reality of the situation was starting to sink in, and suddenly you were acutely aware of your current state.

a slight blush spread over your cheeks as you took in the sight of alex. his hair was mussed, his shirt untucked and wrinkled, and he had that satisfied smirk on his face. you couldn’t help but feel slightly flustered.

alex took notice of your flushed cheeks and your expression. his smirk only widened, and he leaned forward to plant a small kiss on your forehead. “i want you to work with me.” he blurted out. alex didn’t even think it all through.

you were caught off guard by his bluntness. you stared at him, unsure of how you should respond.

“work with you?” you repeated, still processing his words. his hands were still on your hips, a light touch that was sending strange waves of heat through you.

alex’s gaze was fixated on you, intense and unwavering. he nodded, a determined look on his face. “yeah. work with me.” he repeated, his voice firm. “i told you. i want to see you at front desk and me next to you, working together. i’ll even add your name to the door of this office.”

you looked at him, slightly baffled. “you’re being serious?”

alex chuckled, his eyes now softer. “yes, i’m serious.” he said, his hands moving to cup your face. “i don’t want anyone else by my side except you. i want it to be you.”

you felt a wave of emotions hit you. surprise, a hint of flattery, and excitement - but you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself. you stood up quickly.

“i-“ you faltered, trying to find the words to respond. you were still a bit overwhelmed by this sudden turn of events. “alex, i don’t know what to say..”

“say yes.” alex practically growled, his voice low.

he bent down to grab his clothes and shoved them back on him. he was being dead serious. “say that you’ll work with me. i know we aren’t anything serious.. but i just want you here. working here. with me.”

you could see the intensity in his eyes, the fervor. he was dead serious. you had no doubts, and that made your heart skip a beat.

“i.. i have to think about it.” you said, your voice a bit softer than you intended. deep down, you wanted to scream out yes, but you didn’t want to seem too eager.

alex chuckled, he seemed amused by your response. “okay.”

“that’s it? just okay? no argument or persuasion?” you asked, a bit surprised at how easily he seemed to accept your answer. you expected him to try and convince you a bit more.

alex gave a nonchalant shrug, his smirk returning to his face. “no. you’ll come around.” he said, his tone confident. he sounded so sure, that it almost annoyed you.

“and what makes you so sure?” you challenged, your voice rising a bit. you were starting to get irritated with his cocky attitude.

alex’s smirk widened, seemingly amused by your irritation. he leaned closer, his face now mere inches from yours. “because i know you.” he whispered. “i know you’re going to say yes sooner or later.”

you didn’t like how he seemed to be so sure of himself. his arrogance was irritating. you huffed, trying to suppress your irritation. “and what if i don’t say yes?” you retorted, crossing your arms.

“you will.”

a/n: hi, i’m back. this is the start a new series i’m writing. i started this part last year but never got round to finishing it and just remembered about it recently. it’s been on my mind for a while and i wanted to finish it and do more parts for it. so here we are.

[casssssssi]

Die From A Broken Heart

Macklin Celebrini x reader

warnings; angst, cheating, arguments, getting drunk as a result, Macklin being a dick, not proofread

wc; 3,270

summary; Macklin has been acting distant lately.

a/n; Basically, this one’s like… the lead up to the song?

—

She had met Macklin in the 7th grade. He was new, moved to town only a week before school had started, sat next to her in class on the first day. He was a shy kid, but eventually, as she attempted to make conversation, he opened up. They were friends. But then, they went to different high schools. Lost contact, despite their proximity to each other. Keeping in touch just became too difficult, they had other friends so they didn’t really need each other anymore. In college, they reconnected. She had run into Mack on campus during the second week of their freshman year. She had no idea he was even going to BU. They talked, and talked, and talked. Rekindled that friendship from their Junior high days. Learned all the new things and interests the other had developed over the years. Friendship though, didn’t last forever. She found it hard not to develop feelings for him. He had changed, his face had slimmed a little, though it was still mostly baby fat, he’d become leaner, more muscular. He was attractive. But not only that, he was kind, caring, and seemed genuinely interested in her and being around her, even if it was just in a platonic way.

What she hadn’t expected, was for him to return her affections. So they started dating. It was awkward at first, she’d never had a boyfriend, and Mack had just about as much experience as her, but as time went on and they became more comfortable, it got better. She fell in love with him. It was more than just “feelings”, it was love. She tells him after their 4 month anniversary date. He says it back. When Mack gets drafted, things change. He acts distant, colder, like he’s unsure of how things will be now. But then, he’s back to normal, as if none of it had happened, as if his behavior wasn’t strange at all. She shrugs it off. When Mack goes to the NHL, it’s great. She transfers to a school that isn’t too far from San Jose, and she sees him regularly. But now, a little over 2 years into their relationship, Mack is back to acting distant. He doesn’t text her as often, had turned his life360 off (which they only had to make sure each other was safe as they drove back and forth between her campus and wherever he was staying), had stopped texting her when he got back home after games. It made her nervous.

She’s visiting him one day, as a surprise. Jumbo had let her in and now, she’s sitting on Mack’s bed in his room, waiting for him to return. She waits, and waits, and then waits some more. He doesn’t get back until 2 am. Mack walks in, surprised to see his girlfriend sitting on his bed. He stands frozen in place for a few seconds before saying anything. “What are you doing here?”, he asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Came to surprise you”, she smiles, but she can hear his tone. Why is he not happy to see her? “We haven’t been able to hang out in a while” Mack sighs, crossing his arms across his chest as he walks over to the bed. “I've been busy,” he says bluntly, “Hockey keeps me pretty occupied.” He sits down on the edge of the bed, not looking at her. She can tell something's bothering him. “I know”, she says softly, “I just miss you” Mack rubs his temples, his irritation clear. “I miss you too, but I told you hockey has to come first.” He's still avoiding her gaze, his attention focused on a spot on the floor. “I know. I’m not going to keep you from practice or anything”, she says. “I just, looked at your schedule and noticed you don’t have anything for a few days after tomorrow so I thought it would be a good time to visit…” She sounds unsure now. This isn’t the first time they’ve surprised each other like this. Why is it a problem now? Mack lets out a scoff. “You looked at my schedule?”, he asks, finally meeting her eyes. “And just decided to show up unannounced without even asking me first?” He shakes his head in disbelief, a frown on his face. His tone and expression hurt her, but she tries not to let it show. “I didn't think I needed your permission to visit you,” she says quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap. Mack rolls his eyes, clearly frustrated, and stands up. “Well, maybe you should've thought that through, because I'm exhausted. I was going to rest after practice, not deal with this.” He gestures vaguely towards her. It's as if he's annoyed by her very presence. Her eyes fill with tears. He’s referring to her as if she’s an issue. As if he just doesn’t want to see her. “Okay…”, her voice soft. “I can leave then..”, she says. She has her own car, and a two hour drive back to campus isn’t that bad she supposes. Mack sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Maybe that's for the best,” he says, his tone harsh. “I need some time to myself, okay? Hockey's stressful enough without you showing up out of the blue.” She nods, grabbing her bag. “Alright… well I’ll see you some other time then I guess”, she says walking towards his door. She has this weird feeling in her chest. Why was he being so mean? Even if he’s tired and stressed, to kick her out at 2 in the morning? After she had drove 2 hours to see him? That was harsh. She drives back in silence, lost in her thoughts.

Three weeks later, he shows up at her dorm unannounced, flowers in hand and an apologetic look on his face. She opens the door, surprised to see Mack standing there with flowers in hand and a sheepish expression on his face. “Mack...”, she starts, her tone guarded. “What are you doing here?” He holds up the flowers awkwardly. “I wanted to apologize. Can I come in?” he asks, his voice sounding hopeful. She steps aside, letting him in. He sits down on the edge of her unmade bed and she closes the door, crossing her arms. She looks at him expectantly. Mack takes a deep breath. “Look, I'm sorry for being such a jerk a few weeks ago. I was tired and stressed out with hockey and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair and I know I hurt you.” He looks up at her, his expression remorseful. “I really am sorry, I shouldn't have kicked you out like that.” She nods. “Okay”, she says. She’s still a little upset about it, but she can forgive him. Mack seems relieved that she's willing to accept his apology. “Thank you for understanding,” he says, looking down at the flowers in his hand. “I know I was a total dick and I promise I won't do it again. I really do miss you.” “I miss you too”, she says, taking the flowers from him and setting them on her desk. She climbs into his lap, giving him a soft kiss. Mack wraps his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing her back. “I've missed this, missed you,” he murmurs against her lips. She feels herself relaxing into him, his apology seeming sincere.

They lay together for a few hours. Adjusting themselves so that they’re laying on the bed, her head on his chest as they watch a movie. It’s late now and Mack’s fallen asleep. His phone buzzes on her bedside table and she picks it up. Her stomach drops to her feet when she reads the preview, her heart sinking to where her stomach should be. Shes going to be sick.

| Kristen 💞: Baby when are you coming over? It’s getting late

She feels tears well in her eyes as she grips his phone. She unlocks it, scrolling through the messages. The words “Baby” and “Sweetheart” and many, many hearts stick out to her. Conversations about how much they miss each other, plans for how they’re going to spend their nights together. She scrolls to the top, the messages go back all the way to his draft. Her heart feels like it's about to beat out of her chest. All the pieces are suddenly falling into place in her mind. His distant behavior, being more and more annoyed with her visits, now these texts. He's been seeing someone else. Someone he's calling petnames and sending hearts to. She feels like she could throw up. She hesitantly looks over at Mack's sleeping form. He looks so peaceful, completely unaware of the betrayal he's caused. She wants to wake him up and confront him right then and there. But she can't bring herself to do it. Instead, she quietly gets up and goes into the bathroom, tears streaming down her face. She closes the door, back against it as she sinks to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest as she cries.

It’s as if Mack can sense something’s wrong, waking up to the soft click of the bathroom door and the muffled sound of her sobs. He sits up, groggy from sleep at first. Then, he realizes the bathroom door is closed and he can hear faint sniffling coming from behind the door. He gets out of bed, padding over to the bathroom and knocking lightly. “Baby? You okay in there?”, he calls. Her heart clenches at the name. The name he’s been calling another girl. Mack knocks again, a bit harder this time. “Baby, open the door. Please. I heard you crying.” He sounds worried, he has no idea why she's crying. She doesn’t answer, but she does move from being pressed against it. She knows if she doesn’t open it, he’s going to do whatever to get in. Mack tries the door handle, finding it unlocked, and slowly opens the door. He sees her sitting on the floor, her eyes red from crying. “Babe... What's wrong?”, he asks, concern clear in his voice. She doesn’t look at him, can’t, not without sobbing. How could he do this to her? After they’ve been together for so long? Mack kneels down next to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder, but she flinches away from his touch. He looks confused, hurt even. “Babe, talk to me. You're scaring me,” he says, his voice gentle. She shakes her head. She can’t speak. Mack scoots closer to her, trying to get a better look at her face. But she just keeps her head down, refusing to meet his gaze. “Baby, please. Say something,” he pleads, his tone desperate.

That’s when he notices, his phone gripped in her hands, unlocked. His heart drops. Mack's stomach twists in knots as he notices his phone in her hands. He knows what she's seen. He reaches out, trying to take his phone from her, but she pulls it closer to her chest. “How— How could you?”, she sobs out. And when she looks up at him, he almost looks… angry? At her? At the fact he got caught? She doesn’t know. Mack rubs a hand across his face, frustration clear in his expression. “You shouldn't have been looking through my phone,” he says, his tone sharp, “You violated my privacy.” She just sobs again. She can’t even say anything. How could this have happened. Was she not enough for him? Mack lets out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I knew I should've just put a passcode on it. You didn't need to see that,” he mutters. His tone is harsh, not at all comforting or apologetic like she would've expected. She can't believe what she's hearing. He's angry that she found out? What about the fact that he was cheating on her in the first place? She stands up suddenly, her sadness replaced with anger, quickly boiling over. “I didn't need to see it?”, she says incredulously, her voice shaky with tears. “You're the one talking to another girl, calling her pet names and making plans behind my back!” Mack stands up as well, crossing his arms, his expression still frustrated. “It's not a big deal,” he says, his tone dismissive. “We're just talking. Nothing's happening.” How can he downplay something like this? As if it was nothing, as if he didn't completely betray her trust.

“Macklin I read the texts. You talked, Multiple. Times.”, she emphasizes, “about having sex with her. We haven’t even done that!”, she gestures between the two of them, her tone is desperate. For what she doesn’t know. For him to stay? To leave this girl and be with her? For him to understand the weight of what he’s done? Mack flinches at her words, his expression faltering for a moment before hardening again. “It's not like I've acted on it,” he says, his tone still defensive. “I just... I got lonely, okay? Hockey takes up so much of my time and you're not always around, and she was there.” Her heart sinks even further. How could he even try to justify this? She shakes her head, feeling sick to her stomach. “So you're blaming this on me because I'm not always around? Because I'm in college trying to get a degree? And that makes it okay for you to talk to another girl and hide it from me?” Tears are streaming down her face, her anger and hurt blending together. She’s yelling now. It’s late. Quiet hours he damned, he’s hurt her. Worse than anyone ever has. Mack steps towards her, irritation clear on his face. “Keep your voice down. It's the middle of the night, I don't need you waking up the whole damn building,” he snaps. It just makes her angrier. He's worried about noise complaints when he's the one who cheated on her. “Don't tell me to keep my voice down,” she snaps back, her anger matching his. “You lost that right when you decided to go behind my back and talk to another girl.” Mack runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. It's like he's annoyed that she's confronting him about it. “You lost the right to tell me to do ANYTHING.”, she says.

Mack clenches his jaw, his expression hardening even further. “You're being dramatic,” he retorts, his tone dismissive. “This really isn't as big a deal as you're making it out to be.” Her blood boils at his words. How dare he downplay her feelings like that? “Get out.”, she says, her tone cold. She’s done. She can’t do it anymore. Mack looks taken aback by her command. He had expected her to cry, to beg him to stay, to forgive him. Not this. “What?”, he asks, his voice cracking. “You can't be serious.” “I’m so fucking serious.”, she says, her finger jabbing angrily at his chest. “I loved you Macklin. You were my world, And then you go behind my back and do this to me?”, she says, her voice strained. The tears still haven’t stopped streaming down her face. Mack's expression falters for a moment, guilt briefly crossing his face. “I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear,” he says, his voice more hesitant now. “It just happened. I was lonely, you were gone, and she was there.” His attempts to explain himself just anger her more. He's still trying to justify his actions, to make it seem less severe. Quite frankly, he sounds like a broken record. Saying the same thing over and over again as if that’s going to make it better. She shakes her head, her eyes narrowing in anger. “Just because I wasn't around as much doesn't give you a free pass to mess around with someone else,” she says, her voice firm, finger still pressed into his chest. “You had an obligation to me as my boyfriend. You were supposed to be loyal, and instead, you betrayed me.”

Mack's jaw clenches again, frustration written all over his face. “Loyalty doesn't mean I can't have human needs,” he retorts, his tone defensive. “You can't expect me to just sit around and wait for you all the time.” The nerve of him, making it seem like she's the one in the wrong. She shakes her head again. She pushes past him, wiping at the stupid tears that keep falling. She takes his stuff, his book bag that has his clothes in it, his shoes, even the flowers he brought, and throws them into the hall. Mack looks shocked as she starts to shove his things out into the hall. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks, trying to step towards her. But she moves quickly, blocking his path and pointing at the door. Her anger fuels her actions, and she's not going to back down. “You need to leave.” His jaw clenches again, tension clear in his body. “You're really gonna kick me out in the middle of the night?”, he demands. “Where am I supposed to go?” “A two hour drive isn’t that long”, she repeats her thoughts from a few weeks ago, when he had kicked her out. He stares at her before giving her a nod, tonguing over his front teeth as he walks to the door. She stands in the middle of her room and watches him leave, flinching as he slams the door. Hard. As soon as the door slams, her legs give out from under her. She sinks to the floor, her back against the bed frame, as the sobs wrack through her body once more. The pain is overwhelming and the tears won't stop. She had loved him so much. Given everything to him. All of her time, her attention, her affection, and her love. His betrayal feels like a knife to her gut. And the worst part? He barely seemed sorry for it. She cries herself to sleep that night, curled up on the floor, her body drained from sobbing so much. She wakes the next morning, her eyes swollen and her head pounding. The weight of the previous night's events comes crashing back to her, and she has to fight back another wave of tears. She has classes today, but the thought of leaving the dorm feels unbearable. But she pushes herself to get up and get ready. She needs something to distract herself.

She roots through her desk drawer, finding the bottle of wine she has hidden there. She doesn’t even bother reaching for a glass or a cup, just pops it open and starts to drink. Straight from the bottle. As she drinks, her mind races, reliving every moment they had together. The first time he made her laugh, or the time he held her all night when she was sick. The memories are bittersweet now, tainted by the knowledge of his betrayal. She takes another large swig of wine, desperate to numb the pain even if just slightly. She drinks until it’s empty and she’s sloppy drunk. She’s spilled some of it on her clothes, dripping down onto the floor as she sinks down again, completely numb. She sits there for what feels like hours, staring at the wall as her brain goes in and out of focus. Everything feels hazy. The memories, the pain, even the room seems to be spinning slightly. She doesn’t know what to do. How to feel. So instead she does the one thing she knows will help. She calls her mom.

—

a/n; Yayyyy another Mack fic! As always, this is based off of one of my c.ai chats. Requests are open and feedback is much appreciated! Love you and thank you for reading!

[oceantornadoo]

when the sun came up (i was looking at you)

the pitt fic: samira mohan x jack abbot

-

Samira tries not to hate people.

She doesn’t hate Robby for the condescending squat he does when she doesn’t meet his eyes. She doesn’t hate her father for leaving her thirteen and missing half her heart. She doesn’t hate her father’s sister for screaming it was all Samira’s fault behind closed doors at the funeral house. She doesn’t hate her Amma for cutting her off from her cousins after that.

But she really, really hates drunk drivers.

They aren’t her “thing”, the switch every healthcare worker has that cuts like a serrated knife between broken ribs. They just suck, as Trinity would say, and as someone with a higher-than-normal level of self control, she just doesn’t understand how this happens. How a drunk driver hit an afterschool care bus of three children and one driver, who swerved at the last minute to take the brunt of the damage.

Samira works on the driver for 43 minutes, but there’s too many glass shards in her bloodstream. Robby calls time of death after they lose her heartbeat twice, a murmured “Time of Death: 6:23pm.” The group bows their head in silence for a moment, the heart monitor silent as Samira’s eyes trace the pattern of blood on the floor. Robby exhales sharply, his frown lines more pronounced than usual, and that’s that.

Samira takes the little girl in North 15 so day shift can start wrapping up while she settles into her double shift. Mel’s the best with kids, but she’s off today and Jesse and Mateo have tried their hardest, but the girl hasn’t stopped crying. Samira pretends she’s talking down one of her cousins on her mom’s side from a tantrum, an open face and an understanding tone.

“Hi, sweetheart. My name is Samira. What's your name?" The little girl sniffles, her crying ebbing slightly. It seems she might be more comfortable with a woman, as both Mateo and Jesse couldn’t get through to her. Samira waves them out, trying to analyze her patient as much as possible. "Audrey," she finally whispers. Samira gives her an encouraging smile.

"My friend Mateo thinks you have a broken leg, but I need to do a scan first. Do you have a parent I can call?” Samira puts Audrey at about seven years old, with auburn curls and all-seeing green eyes. There's something a little familiar about the slant of her eyebrows and her curls, but Samira can't place it. Instead, she takes in her trembling lip and watery eyes and decides that despite her mantra to not hate, she can hate drunk drivers.

"My mommy got a new phone and I can't 'member her number." Audrey sniffles, wiping at her eyes. "That's okay. Now I know your bus was an after-school bus. Do you know where it was taking you? Was someone waiting who isn't your mommy?" Samira gently approaches as she peppers the girl with questions. Audrey seems to no longer be crying, instead fiddling with a friendship bracelet on her arm.

"I was going to see Uncle J since Mommy works late. I don't know where Daddy is." She frowns at the blanket like it's refusing to tell her the location of her dad. Samira can relate, even she has no clue about the circumstances Audrey alludes to. The X-Ray tech, thankfully female, knocks on the door. "Audrey, this is my friend Jaida. She's going to help me look at your leg. Is that okay?" Audrey nods. Jaida is a seasoned professional, doing the scan as quickly as possible without compromising care as she senses the tension in the room. When the scan comes back, Samira sighs. Audrey's tibia and fibula are broken, but it's a clean break with no fragments. Jaida uploads the scan and retreats quietly as Samira sends her a thankful smile.

"Okay, Audrey. It looks like you've hurt your leg. You're being really brave today. Do you know your Uncle J's number or where he lives?" Audrey's emerald eyes brighten as she nodded enthusiastically. "Mommy says Uncle J lives at the hopsitial." Interesting. Hopefully Audrey's mom meant he's a worker there and not a frequent flyer. Either way, he'll be in the system. "Do you know his first name, like how yours is Audrey? Or maybe his last name? It might be the same as your mommy's." Audrey purses her lips for a second, and Samira is hit with a sense of deja vu that she cannot name. She's seen that thinking face before, which seems impossible. That is, until, Audrey says:

"Abbot! Our last name is Abbot." Followed by, "Janie at school says my name sounds like a-butt."

Well, fuck.

-

Samira steps out for a second, leaving Audrey in the capable hands of Princess, who the little girl immediately adores. She takes out her phone and clicks the name she's texted tens of medical journals. It rings and rings and rings, and she hopes this is all a bad dream, but he finally picks up with a rushed "Mohan? Not a great time."

Samira straightens her shoulders. "Do you have a niece named Audrey?" There's no pause at the other end, just the immediate sounds of a man getting out his keys and leaving his house like he's being chased. "Fuck, I've been trying to call the program but they didn't know what hospital she went to. Is she okay? I need the facts."

Samira peeks into through the glass door of North 15, just to see Princess feeding Audrey a cracker. "Six-year-old female, MVC car crash. Presented with leg pain. Broken tibia and fibula concluded after portable X-Ray, no bone fragments visible. Patient is stable with normal stats but emotionally distressed." Jack inhales sharply, the sound of his car engine rumbling in the background. Samira thanks every being in the universe that Audrey is stable, that Jack doesn't have to lose another person he loves. It's been ten months since she started pulling more doubles to cover Langdon's absence, five months since Jack told her how his wife died on the roof as the sun came up, and less than one month since Samira became an R4. And it's been one year and eight months since Jack sent Samira that first journal article, but who's counting?

"I'll be there in five minutes. Thank you, Samira." He hangs up before she can say anything. What she would say, she has no idea. "You're welcome" feels both hollow and untrue, since she didn't even do anything.

-

Jack Abbot bursts into the Pitt four minutes later. Samira's there, brow furrowed and hair frazzled, beautiful in a way he cannot comprehend. Despite the neurons and brain waves and other neurological shit that computes every day up there, he still can't believe her inky waves and doe eyes exist and intelligent mind in the midst of chaos. "North 15," she spits out in a rush. Jack nods and beelines there.

The curtain isn't closed, so he can see the moment Audrey recognizes him. His little ladybug starts waving vigorously, and he bites back a grin at her determination while Princess exerts herself to ensure Audrey stays put. "Uncle J!" She greets him with his favorite voice in the world the moment he opens the door. He scoops her up in his arms, firm as to make sure her leg isn't jostled. "My brave bug. I'm so glad you're okay." Audrey starts crying again, but he's pretty sure they're happy tears. Between his sister Deb's divorce with Audrey's piece of shit father and Deb's new job with long hours, his niece has been going through things no six-year-old should. The family therapist he got for Deb and Audrey is going to have a field day next Thursday.

Out of the corner of his eye, Samira hovers protectively outside the door. It's like the God he doesn't believe in anymore knew to send Audrey to the most capable doctor in the PTMC, let alone the state. He catches Samira's eye and she immediately darts away, most likely heading towards the board to pick up another case. Always working, always moving to the next -- the complete opposite of whatever those shitheads call Slow-Mo. "I called your mom. She should be here soon. How are you feeling?" He releases her only to pull up the circular chair with wheels. Audrey immediately grabs for his hand, always the one with the ring so she can fidget with it. As her breaths calm and her tears recede, Jack pushes away the fringe of auburn curls that's sticking to her forehead, a mirror of what his own looked like at her age.

"I was scared. But Samir- Sami- Mira and Princess are nice. Princess said I'm going to get a cast and I can pick any color!" He grabs the iPad Samira left for him to pull up Audrey's scans, nodding along as she ruminates between blue and green. There seems to be no bone fragments, but when Deb gets here, he'll want to run an extra test just to be sure. As he gets to Audrey's file, there's a note from Samira asking for the same test.

Jesus.

"Can I tell you a secret, Bug?" His little gossip is all ears, nodding so fiercely he might need to do a concussion test. "Doctor Samira is my favorite doctor in this place. If I was here, that's who I would've picked to see you." Audrey's eyes widen. "She's so pretty." Audrey replies. Looks like Samira really has this effect on all Abbots. Jack agrees with Audrey and kisses the side of her head, remembering how fragile she felt the first time he held her. Still fragile even now, and he wasn't there. Recently, he'd been trying to keep the police scanner off, instead watching a rerun of a Pitt Panthers game as he waited for her afterschool bus drop off. He'd waited on his porch ten minutes to five, eyes on her bus stop, and was still waiting there ten minutes past, the yells of basketball fans instead of police calls echoing from inside. And then that dreaded call from the program and-

"Sweetheart!"

"Mommy!"

Deb sweeps in, still in her fancy lawyer suit he made fun of this morning when he picked Audrey up after his shift and drove her to school. His baby sister's curls are dull rust instead of Jack's premature greys, currently trying their hardest to escape the tight braid down her back. Deb goes to Audrey's free side, gathering her own child in a tight hug and murmuring prayers of the God she still believes in into her hairline. When she pulls back, it's jarring to see tears in her eyes. The few times his stoic baby sister has looked like that was her first visit to him in the VA hospital after his amputation and Claire's funeral eleven years ago. "Jacky, what happened? All I know is her bus was in an accident." Jack opens his mouth, but a sharp knock on the door interrupts him.

"Ms. Abbot? I'm Doctor Samira Mohan and I've been treating your daughter today." The baby hairs around Samira's forehead crown her like those angels Jack used to see in the paintings in his grandma's house; embossed golden halos encircling their heads. Deb turns back to Jack with an evil glint in her eye, mouthing 'Samira'? And of course, his lawyer baby sister has a perfect memory of Jack, even when it happened months ago. When Audrey was with their mom and the two Abbot siblings got wine drunk to celebrate Deb's divorce and starting waxing poetic about Samira in their porch chairs. The morning after, Jack's limb aching after he slept wrong on his couch, Deb greeted him with scrambled eggs and her mom smile, sad and understanding. That was the only time he's voiced this parasite in his head.

Deb clearly gets the message, turning on work mode and standing to shake Samira's hand. "Deb Abbot. Jack's sister, as you've probably noticed." Samira shakes her hand firmly, completely unaware of the magnitude of the moment. The last woman Deb met that Jack loved liked was Claire, seventeen years ago after their six-month anniversary. This meeting, however, is covert, and he takes in Samira the way he imagines Deb is doing. Waves clipped back in an all-business claw clip (a new vocabulary term in his mental dictionary, courtesy of Santos and her side remarks), mouth set in a stern line but offset with those dimples that come out whenever she's trying to calm a patient, and a too-big scrub shirt, meaning the machine was out and she's been sprayed with some sort of fluid today. Strength, in all its forms.

"Audrey was very brave, and very lucky. She's suffering from a broken tibia and fibula in her left leg, but I'd like to run a few more tests to make sure she doesn't have any bone fragments floating around that could harm her in the future. While we wait for Radiology, let's talk about family history and next steps." Jack stands up immediately, giving the free chair to Samira who he's sure hasn't sat down all day. She pretends to not notice, clearly wanting Deb to take it. But Deb Abbot is a force of her own.

"Dr. Mohan, if you don't sit in that chair, I'll force you in it myself. I have been sitting for 12 hours today and don't plan on making it 13." Jack helps his baby sister and her incessant need to order people, rounding around the hospital bed until he stands behind Samira's shoulders. Gently, to the soft giggles of Audrey, he curls his fingers around the slopes of her trapezius down to her acromion, resisting the urge to brush her clavicles. He pushes her forward until he's satisfied she can walk the two feet left to the chair. Once she sits, and he can see the relief in her face, he steps back next to Deb. "I'll leave you to take a history, Dr. Mohan. And take your time, because I will be double checking." He shoots Audrey a wink and exits before he can think twice.

-

When Jack Abbot can't think, he goes to the roof. On the worst days, it's on the wrong side of the railing, but that's with a small part of knowledge that Robby is in the building and can pull him back. Robby's here today, and he's already called Shen for a last-minute replacement without even consulting Jack, probably because he knew he'd refuse. But Audrey's in the building, and Debbie, and Samira if he forces himself to go there, so Jack stays on the right side. He does, however, sit and prop up his arms on the rails. That's where Samira finds him an hour later, staring at the sinking sun, thinking of how he could've prevented his baby niece facing the brutal side of life.

"I didn't know you broke your wrist in fifth grade," is how she greets him once the iron roof access door swings shut with a bang. "I was trying to do a front-facing slide during a Little League game. Didn't quite get the technique down." She snorts, sitting down at his side with crisscrossed legs, but keeps her hands in her lap instead of joining him at the railing. "So, the baseball cowboy came before the ER cowboy." She states, not even a question. He huffs at that stupid nickname, knowing she finds a little truth and a lot of stupidity in it. Silence stretches after that, comfortable like a sigh after a long day.

Her knee nudges his thigh. It's the leg that's not a leg, stuck out straight instead of folded. "It's not your fault." She whispers. But it is, is the problem. This is why he listens to the police scanner at all times of the day, giving into his anxiety about shit exactly like this. Warfare brought home, civilians facing violence that he should be there to fix. But this time he wasn't, he was selfish and the baby he held (before her own father, who was out shitfaced somewhere) was alone and scared and he wasn't there.

"I turned the scanner off. I was watching a fucking basketball game, Samira, and her bus was overturned because of some drunk idiot." Samira inhales at the sound of her first name, one he almost never uses, but he's too weak to keep up the pretense of being professional. When he turns, it's not pity he finds in her eyes, but understanding. He thinks of the father she's grieved for longer than he was in her life, and how she might share this heavy burden of guilt, despite the time that's passed. That's why he does it, he thinks. Not because he's acting on years of infatuation, but because Samira might be the only person in this building that understands him.

She moves in tandem with him, as always.

His legs leg retracts to the right side of the railing as Samira opens her arms. Jack buries himself in the crook of her neck, only noticing the wetness on his face when it slides against Samira's neck. There's no rumble of disgust or complaint, just acceptance as she tightens her arms around the breadth of his shoulders. His hands tighten around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer as the tears fall. It's a catharsis, a rebirth, a release of the guilt that's weighed on him since one drunk driver took away his wife and another harmed his ladybug. And Samira just holds him, even as he begins to shake with relief. A warm hand rubs at his back, a grounding motion as his breathing slowly calms with every exhale.

When he pulls back, after a wipe at his face to ensure it's dry, Samira's dimples are winking at him. "Feel better?" She murmurs, her hand dropping from his back to his knee, warming the metal of his prosthesis. After a clarifying inhale, he nods. "Always taking care of me, huh?" He softens it with a laugh, but she doesn't return it.

"What are you talking about? If anything, it's the opposite." Jack disagrees, but he wants to hear her continue, so he stays silent. "You, you, give me these protein bars at shift change on the days I don't have time to eat. And then you email me about my research even when the other attendings think there's too much on my plate. You even offered me your veteran benefits when I started complaining about my insurance!" Frustration laces her tone, and maybe that means he's been pushing this too far? But her hand is still on his knee...

"Audrey hates those protein bars." Jack mutters, like he hasn't been caught red-handed. "Don't get me started on Audrey." She says sternly. When Jack frowns, Samira rolls her eyes. "You've mentioned her, but I didn't realize how much you take care of people until I saw you with her. This isn't on you, Jack. You'd never hurt her and you know that." She's right, because Samira Mohan is always right. And he takes care of Samira (and Audrey and Deb), but maybe he can let her take care of him right back. His defenses are down and she's right there with so much openness on her face and she's the one keeping him on the right side of the railing.

When he kisses her, he thinks of magic.

Of rediscovering it by reading Audrey bedtime stories as Deb worked late. Of the feeling of a human heart in his hand for the first time at 24. Of getting that baseball slide right the third time, stealing home and breaking a tied championship two years later. Of Samira Mohan, and her determination to treat people like people, and not numbers on a screen.

Her lips are soft, and after a moment, open wider to let him in. She tugs him into her, farther away from the edge and he knows what she's doing and he won't stop her, practically caging her onto the ground as he ensures there's no way for her to stumble. He pours years of longing into it, and he didn't want it to be under these circumstances, but Jack Abbot has learned he's a selfish man when it comes to Samira Mohan.

She pushes at his chest slightly, her hands having migrated there at some point, and he immediately retreats. Her brows are furrowed and her lips bitten, and he can't help the masculine possessiveness that rears its head for an ugly second, especially as his hand cups her head to protect it from the concrete under them. "I can't do this if it's guilt." She confesses, and his heart aches. Jack leans forward until his forehead touches hers, their breaths one and the same. "I've been watching you for years, Samira. Every overpriced latte, every printed journal article with colored ink from the Pitt, every protein bar, that's not guilt. I've been waiting for you to see me this whole time, and it turns out you have, and I'm just the blind old man." She smacks his chest with a playfulness he almost never sees in the ER.

"You're not old, you're middle-aged." Jack kisses her jaw before replying, running his nose down the side of her face. "Somehow, baby, I think that's worse."

Samira seems to have decided the kiss is guilt free and tugs him back for more.

That is, until, something starts vibrating between them. Jack pulls away with a grunt, smoothing the baby hairs threatening to drown Samira's face as she pulls out her pager. "Audrey's scans are back from Radiology." She reports, and its so inane that all he does is shake his head. Ignoring all the creaks of his bones, Jack rises up, one hand proffered to Samira. She takes it, leaping up in a much more flexible manner Jack would like to investigate further, and he can't help but kiss the smooth skin of her hand before dropping it.

"Let's go help some patients, Dr. Abbot." She orders, and he gladly follows her lead.

-

out of the woods lyric was necessary for a title but the sun was literally setting during the last scene oops

[jerreeeeeee]

what do u think r important aspects of the IPRE crew that can be easily overlooked or like misunderstood? I'm so obsessed with all ur thoughts towards the characters i wanna hear every thought uve ever had about them LOLL

ahh thank you!!! i think about them SO often..

i don't know that its fair to say its overlooked/misunderstood per se for davenport since he has so little screentime and most characterization for him is more or less invented wholecloth but i wish people explored his wrath more often. we don't really see what that actually is in reference to in canon, but that just means there are a lot of directions to take it and i think it has a lot of potential to be really interesting

merle in general is kind of easy to overlook.. he's a fantastic character but also just like. he's very understated for the majority of the story. and there's a lot of interesting themes but i don't know what to do with them. him and his kids, his tendency to run away, that's interesting. his failed marriage and his response in wonderland's dating game and the way he sees romance, that's really interesting. his relationship to faith and divinity, that's interesting as well. everything to do with john is extremely interesting. but i don't know what direction to take it or how to make it into something coherent if that makes any sense

i think for barry its like. guilt. like the scene where he's talking to taako right before lup disappears, taako talks about feeling weird and out of place in this world that's meant to be home now, and barry says "i would feel guilty being a citizen in a world that i... poisoned." which is in reference to the relics, obviously, and a lot of other characters feel guilty about it too, and are all rationalizing it as best they can. but he denies himself participation in the world because of it. and then also in his coin monologue he feels like his love for lup (and imo widely for the crew) "defined and redeemed" him. what's that about? what did he need redeeming for? all i can think of is that 1. he's kind of a dick with his memories gone, and 2. on the judges' cycle, his sins were sloth and envy, that he never participated in the world and was jealous of those who did. but damn, do those things really need redeeming? that's such a strong word to use. idk i guess it just sorta seems like he's someone with a lot of guilt

god what ISN'T overlooked and misunderstood about taako... i think if i had to pick just one it would be that most people are aware that his idiot wizard thing is a facade, but i think you have to go farther than that too and recognize how deeply intelligent he is. like that is his major character defining trait to me more than anything else, he's pragmatic and shrewd and clever. and actually i can't just pick one because he's goofy too. it gets lost a little bit because its easier to remember the emotional moments in the show and because its a comedy podcast so everyone else is funny too, but like, he's just a strange guy and he is intentionally goofy in-universe in a way merle and magnus aren't as much. like they crack jokes sometimes but taako has pocket pudding and pretends to be godzilla and does silly dances to cheer up his sister ykwim

for lup i think i'd just say the full extent of her effect on the story is easy to overlook because she's only actually present toward the end. the reason lup haunts the narrative is because she is literally a ghost carried in taako's hand but also because she set the whole thing in motion by coming up with the relic plan and then disappearing. she's eminently important to the entire thing because of her choices and convictions. like her relic was the first one the boys encountered !! they come across her body before they even meet lucretia!!

magnus is hard because his arc is so laid out and clear in the show so i think it's pretty difficult to overlook parts of his character? and i'm not much of a magnus scholar lol. i guess i'd just say that he's pretty ruthless and violent sometimes, like he cares about his friends for sure and he loves to pet dogs and everything but he's also murdered a lot of people lmao. which like. i find interesting the way the medium (dnd) intersects with the story. you can characterize your fighter as a rustically hospitable gentle giant all you want but in the end he is going to murder people with an axe because that's how the game works. which is kind of horrific. its odd

lucretia is such a complicated character it's difficult to fully capture her.. but the thing that's coming to mind is how like. unsure she can be. its easy to think of her as someone with a lot of confidence and conviction because she's so in control and has so much gravitas, but in the smaller quieter moments, i'm particularly thinking of her convo with merle at the spa, she seems to be sort of trying to convince herself she did the right thing. like, i'm not saying she's indecisive or plagued by doubt, we see that's not the case, but stubborn as she is, she also seems to second-guess herself a bit, which i think in the end makes her an even more well-rounded character

[seaouidbabyx]

SUCKER || Dealer! Chris x Maneater! Reader

chapter three.

notes: sorry guys, I got carried away. I might split this into two parts. Also, sorry for not updating regularly, ive been swamped at work :(

warnings: swearing, smoking weed, mentions of drugs (no use, just dealing),

Jayden was... nice. I was currently sitting across from the boy with neatly styled hair, a pressed, clean shirt, and a suave smile. He had the balls to come up to me while I was out at the cafe near my apartment, he told me I was gorgeous, and that he would love to show me a restaurant for dinner if I liked this place. He was too nice, and the more that the conversation went between us, the more I felt like I was sitting in a lecture. A lecture purely on him. He spoke about all the houses his family owned, how he graduated with honors in Finance and Law. I don't think I've gotten a single word out this whole date besides the greeting when we first walked in.

The restaurant was great; it was a neat little Italian place a few blocks away from where I lived. He also offered to pick me up, but I politely declined. Sure, why don't I just let you see where I live, random man I've never actually had more than a single convo with? I sat with my little red dress, the long sleeves covering my arms as they crossed each other. My hair was in a classy, mid-bun with curls falling out, and my fingertips were tapping against the stem of my wine glass. My knee-high boots tapped against my folded leg as my foot played along to the song in the background. I don't think I've heard this man say anything even remotely interesting. My thoughts wondered to a certain brunette boy who would've given anything to see me smile.

I nodded with a tight lipped, polite smile as Jayden had started another story about how his grandfather took him for polo lessons as a kid. I looked around the resturant, looking at the people who were having actual engaging conversations. There were red and white plaid table clothes on some of the wooden tables, some wicker basket chairs after some of the booths. I actually really like this place, but god was Jayden making it feel like it was claustrophobic. His big head was taking up about half the room with his ego. "It was rather lovely, the fields were always green when we went in summer-" I zoned him out, when my phone lit up next to me. It was an unknown number, so curiously, I picked it up and opened it.

"you're enjoying your date over there, princess?" My heart raced, I instantly started looking around. How the fuck, did this drug dealer fiend get into a place like this. Then it dawned on me, what if it's some random? I looked around, trying to spot a certain brunette triplet, even going as far to lean out of my seat a little bit, but I couldn't see anyone. I was about to text back and ask who this was, when no other than Chris walked up to our table, one hand in his pocket and one hand holding a takeaway bag. His loose curls were free of the backwards cap, but he looked good. He swaggered up and had a smug smile on his face, looking like he just spawned out of nowhere. I sent him a sharp, what the fuck glare, which he just winked at. I was almost, almost about to get angry, but I knew that deep down I was breathing a huge sigh of relief. He stuck out like a sore thumb; his casual attire really did not match the vibe of this place. He casually just dragged a chair from the table next to us, placed it next to me and spread himself leisurely across it.

I think this was the first time that Jayden had actually just stopped talking. I looked at Chris, Jayden looked at Chris, and Chris just lazily smiled back up at me. "What are you doing here?" I finally asked, looking at him expectantly. Jayden looked pissed, "Yeah man, what the fuck? Who are you?" I rolled my eyes at that answer, my god. I know this wasn't convenient for him, but no need to be a dick about it. I sent a sharp gaze over in Jayden's direction, not impressed, but he didn't seem to care as his focus was all on the boy sitting next to me.

Chris leaned over, picking up a piece of bread from the basket in between us and started peeling off pieces and shoving them in his mouth. "'M here to save her from this god-awful date." Chris muffled through a mouth full of bread, and I was so shocked at his answer that I actually let out a laugh. I put my hand in front of my mouth embarrassingly so, which Chris just cheekily smiled at. Jayden then looked at me, back at Chris, then zoned in on me once again. "Did you set me up?" He seethed, his face turning flush with anger and I looked at him with an 'excuse me?' look. "You're just a fucking stuck up bitch, why couldn't you just tell me you weren't interested?" He shouted, slamming his hands on the table, acting like a toddler. I placed my hand on the table, leaning in to not cause any more of a scene then he was. "Look, I had no idea this man was even here, but you've done absolutely nothing but speak about yourself, I mean do you even know a single thing about me? If he can see that this is a terrible date, then I have nothing more I really need to say, now do I?" I smiled sweetly at him, reaching for my purse and throwing a 50 on the table, standing up and pushing the chair back with an awful screech.

"Here's for my wine, and next time you think about taking a girl on a date, give her a chance to fucking speak." I spat, grabbing my purse and tapping Chris on the back before making my way over to the entrance of the restaurant. Chris grabbed two more pieces of bread out the basket, before saluting Jayden and followed close behind me. He walked out next to me, "Hey! Slow down woman! Are you okay?" He asked, following in my footsteps.

As soon as we were a few walking steps down the sidewalk, I stopped, turned to him and let out a belly laugh. God, I can't believe this is happening to me. I placed my hands on my hips, breathing in big deep breaths in between laughs. I heard Chris nervously laugh along too, probably looking at me like I was crazy. I wiped the tears from my eyes, "Did you see the look on his face! God, what a stuck up, asshat. How did you know I was there?" I shouted and questioned, placing a hand on his shoulder, softening my giggles. He shrugged at me, "Oh you know, I just saw this pretty girl who looked bored out of her mind when I came to get see what they have for takeout. Thought she needed saving." He smirked down playfully at me.

Chris stood next to me with a big smile on his face, still shoving peeled off pieces of bread, I smiled up at him. "Oh, so that's why you're out. Totally not stalking me or anything." I teased, falling back into step with him. He rolled his eyes, passing his extra bread roll over to me without even looking at me. I gently took it, peeling pieces off as he did and started nibling. "Where's your car?" He asked, seeing as were almost about a block and a half away from the restaurant. I shrugged, "I took an uber, but its not far from my place, I don't mind walking." I ripped another piece, placing the soft bread in my mouth. He stopped, dead in his tracks and looked at me with a wild and absurd expression. He then rolled his eyes, shaking his head, before grabbing my forearm. "Not a fuck am I letting you walk. I mean, have you seen the type of dudes out here? You were just on a date with one!" He lectured, pulling me across the street and a little further down. I rolled my eyes, "I can handle myself, thank you very much. It looks like youre fucking kidnapping me right now!" We continued walking and I really was not complaining, before Chris stopped in front of a BMW 5 Series. I looked up at him and back at the car, and he huffed, rolling his eyes once again. He opened the door for me, holding my hand as he helped me into the car.

"Wow, a thug and a gentleman, who would've guessed?" I teased, sarcastic, as he made his way into the driver's side. He rolled his eyes as he got him, pushing the 'push-to-start' button, and putting the car into drive. "How do I know you're not one of those weirdo's out here to kidnap me?" I sassed, turning to look at him. He looked at me with a blank, 'really?' look. "Listen, I've got shit to loose, if anything, I'm scared you're going to kidnap me." He chirped back, shaking his head and looking forward, pulling out of the parking space and creeping up the street.

"Kidnap you! You're lucky I don't have my hands around your neck. I'm flattered you're scared of me, that's what I was aiming for." I said, crossing my arms, looking outside. He smirked, a ghost of a smile behind it, shaking his head at my reaction once again. "Alright, you prissy princess, where are we going?" I looked at him, with a skew look. "Um, my house?" I argued. He stopped at a red light, "C'mon, you got all dressed up and pretty and had a shitty date. How about this, I've got some to do some runs, but after that, I can show you what it's like to go on a real date." He rambled, talking animatedly with his hands as he drove. The way he acted, really didn't show that he was a drug dealer.

"Are you fucking joking? You want me to come on runs with you? I am not some thug accomplice Chris!" I said, turning my body to face him fully. He rolled his eyes at me, "I'm not hearing a no?" He huffed, smirking slightly at my reaction. I crossed my arms, looking out the window. "I did dress up really nice," I murmured, softly. I heard Chris let out a laugh, tapping my thigh gently with his big hand. "Atta girl, lets go have some fun." I smacked away his hand once again, missing it already. I heard him whisper to himself, "God, you're so dramatic." I gasped and pushed his shoulder. He put his hands up in surrender, "What? It's true!"

We eventually started driving through some random neighbour hoods, some with large, high houses, others with simple flats. He was nice enough to let me play some music, so I started shuffling through and decided to settle on some Pouya songs, which I could see he appreciated. Conversation flowed between us, naturally, and the more I got to know Chris, the more I started to realise that he was different. A good different, one that made me want to learn more about him. We had just talked about the basic things, where we grew up, our favourite shows, but he gave me chances to speak about myself, like he was actually interested. The last house we pulled up too, was a small, single-story flat. Its fence was not up to par and the streetlights were not all working, but the garden was neatly kept and the patio didn't look half bad. It had peeling green paint on the outside, and the rusted golden number showed '7'. Chris pulled out his phone, silently parking outside the house, phoning someone.

A man, in a black hoodie and some sweats, quickly opened the door to his house and made his way to Chris's window, with a huge smile on his face. He leaned down; Chris rolled the window so he could meet him. "What's up Chris? Thanks for coming dawg." He spoke, and as he leaned down, I locked eye contact with him. He had some face-tattoos, his hair in dreads. He smiled at me, gold grills on some of his teeth. I smiled politely, before looking at Chris, not knowing what the fuck to do in this situation. "Huh, Chris has got a girl with him, I ain't never seen that before. And she's hot as fuck. This your girlfriend Chris?" He teased, placing a thick wad of cash into Chris's hand. He kept looking between me and Chris, but continued to speak like I wasn't even there? What the fuck is going on? I was gobsmacked, most of the people just came and took their shit, this man doesn't seem to care.

Chris reached over to me, pulling open the cubbyhole, and pulling out a couple baggies, some had green leaves, and one had white powder. One bag even had some small, multi-coloured capsules. I blushed when I felt his arm press against my legs. "Something like that," He replied, clearly not interested in conversation with this man. He closed the cubbyhole, handed him his stash and sent a wink flying my way. I looked at him confused, but my heart beat increased, and I felt my face flush. We bid this man goodbye, Chris rolled up his window and drove off down the street.

He looked at me, clearly irked. "Sorry about him, he just doesn't know when to shut up." I shook my head, "It's no problem, I just didn't know what the fuck was even going on." I chuckled softly. He smiled in return, "Alright, that was my last run, no more scary people." He cheesed, looking at me with lazy eyes. "You hungry, Princess?" I smiled, a small one, trying to refuse how hot he looked. I nodded, "What do you feel like getting? Anything you want," He said, leaning back leisurely in his chair, his gaze flicking to me and the road.

I thought about it, looking at him with a teasing look. "If I'm being totally honest with you, I'm really craving some greasy fast food." I said, a little unsure. He smirked back at me, "Some chicken nuggets, for the finest lady?" Teasing, patting a hand on my thigh once again. "You have to choose where we go, though." I stated, cheekily smiling at the brunette. He nodded, pursed his lips. "I got it," he said, driving away from the suburbs.

He had pulled us into a Burger King, and my eyes lit up. I grabbed his shoulder and shook it excitedly, "Yes! This is my favourite! We have to get matching crowns too Chris." I said and turned to look at him. He had a grin on his face, parking the car. "Let's go get those crowns." He came to my side of the car, opened the door for me like the gentleman he was. I smirked, "Aren't you scared it's going to ruin your whole criminal look you've got going on?" I said, placing my hand in his and getting out of the car. He tutted, "I can still look swag as fuck." He gloated, pulling out a flex of his muscles, which made me fake gag in return. I followed him into the restaurant, walking besides him. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close, smirking down at me. "You know, I was not expecting to come to Burger King for our first date."

I shoved him off, placing a hand on my hip as we walked inside, "Who said anything about this being a date." I quipped, returning his smirk. He placed a hand on the base of my spine and walked us to the counter. He ordered for us but leaned down to me again. "We both know it's a date, sweetheart. Get off your high-horse and just enjoy it." He snipped, making me want to swipe that stupid smirk off his face.

"Fuck sakes," I mumbled, feeling a heat run through my chest. I blushed, looking away as he continued with the cashier. Chris grabbed the takeout, before asking the cashier for two of the paper king crowns, grabbing them and stopping me before we made it to the door. He placed the food on a table nearby, grabbing my waist and making me stand straight in front of him. He maneuvered the paper crown, folding it together, before he gently grabbed the underside of my jaw, and placed the crown on top of my head. I smiled up at him, scrunching my nose, as he gently took my hair behind my ear for the crown to sit properly.

He placed his own crown on his head, looking down at me with that, upside down smile, the one that looks like he's trying not to smile, but he just can't help it. He placed a hand on the base of my spine again, grabbing the food and walking us back out the car. He opened the door for me again, helping me into the car, placing the takeout bag on my lap, before heading to the driver's side. I handed him his burger and fries, taking out my own, and placing the chicken nuggets in between both of us on the centre console, so we could share. He sent me a charming smile, taking one of the nuggets and placing it in his mouth. "You know what would make this even better?" He spoke with a mouth-full of food, which I grimaced at before looking at him curiously. He reached into the side of his door, pulling out a freshly rolled joint. I cheered, "Okay, maybe this is like my dream date or something." I mumbled, quickly shoving some fries in my mouth. He looked over at me, placing the joint between his lips. He moved to fix the crown that had gone slightly askew on my head with a gentle touch. "Princess, this is the bare minimum. I thought you out of all people would know that." I shrugged, "I don't need expensive things to like you." I uttered out. He looked a little shocked, but smirked, nonetheless. He lit the joint, taking a drag.

Once he had puffed it a few times, he gave it over to me. We were both facing each other, the night lights and the interior Led's giving us a soft glow. I looked at him, big, aspiring eyes, before taking the joint from his hand. I took a few drags, blowing out away from his face, before handing it back. There wasn't much said, just two people enjoying each other's company. The lowered music in the background, my heart thundering in my chest. I looked at him again, but Chris's blue eyes were already on mine. I moved to hand him back the joint, but he grabs my wrist, pulls my hand over his shoulder and closer towards him, his left hand slithering towards my waist. We were inches away, so close I could smell the weed off his breath. He placed a soft hand on my neck with his right hand, his thumb just below my jaw, looking at me with hooded eyes. "Such a pretty girl," he said, almost a purr. I looked up at him once again, through my eyelashes. I could not show that he was making me blush, but I'm sure he could feel the heat from my neck. "You gonna do something about it?" I teased, to which smirked at, rolled his eyes, before speaking almost against my lips, "Do you want me to?" His eyes were now fully lowered to my mouth. I started to grow frustrated at this game, so I pulled my head to the side, "Don't waste my time, Chris." I said, more meaning than what I had intended.

Frustrated too, Chris's other hand reached up, pulling my face into his again. "Stop being so fucking dramatic," He whispered, eyes fire-y. And with that, he pulled me in for a kiss. It was full of emotions; his lips were softer than I expected to be. I gasped into the kiss, gripping his sweatshirt like my life depended on it. He asked for entry with his tongue, to which I allowed. We kissed each other, ferociously, our tongues exploring each other's mouths. The weed, him, the kiss, his hands, it was all making me dizzy. So dizzy in fact, that I had dropped the joint somewhere between. He pulled away first, but almost chased my mouth for another kiss, making me smile. "Mm, I think you could use a little more kissing lessons," I grabbed his chin, teasing him, looking at his soft, pink lips, now swollen slightly. Fully joking, knowing this was one of the best kisses I've had to date. His hooded eyes followed mine, before lazily smiling back up at me. "Only if you're gonna teach them." He muttered, placing a hand on my thigh. I let out a small laugh, leaning in to kiss him once more.

Who is the sucker now?

A/N: YAAAYYYY THEY FINALLY KISSED WHOOOO

tags -> @chrispycremedonut @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @iluvchr1s @passionfruitchris

[drowninginredink]

(╹ -╹)? so what would your suggestions for writing an aplatonic character be?

Hmm... Okay well, maybe this is a bad point to start off on, because it involves me making an assumption about whoever is reading this, but I'm going to start with it anyway because it's what I thought about first. I figure that if you're asking this question, there's a pretty high chance you're some flavor of aspec. I think alloplatonic aces and/or aros are the ones most likely to want to give other aspecs representation. And if that is the case and you are somewhere on the a-spectrum, the biggest thing I can say is that if you ask me, all aspec experiences are the same. Like yes, the way society treats romance, sex, friendship, family, etc are all different and so being aro, ace, apl, afam, etc are all different, but so many of the basic experiences repeat.

You hear a lot of aces and aros talk about how they either picked someone at random to say was their crush as a kid, or they just picked the person who seemed nicest. They weren't aware that other people didn't choose one by some method, they had actual feelings for them they couldn't control. Similarly, when I ended up in different classes and a different lunch than all my friends in school and quickly discovered that if I didn't want to have lunch alone, I needed to make new friends, what did I do? I found a person who had a lot in common with me (at the time, being very good at school and coming from a conservative Christian background) and went "yeah, I should probably try and be her friend." There was absolutely no emotional desire—it was just logic.

And a lot of this applies to all queer identities, honestly. How many stories do we hear about someone coming out as bi, and their mom says "oh, I just thought everyone was interested in girls and boys?" We all just assume that our experiences are normal. So just as a trans person might have assumed that everyone feel disconnected from their bodies or an aromantic might assume that crushes are exaggerated to create drama in media, an aplatonic might assume that everyone only really cares about their friends when they're there and doesn't miss them when they're gone. They probably aren't going to understand why some people are so reluctant to try new things if they don't know anyone there, because to them, whether they're surrounded by strangers or friends doesn't make much difference. Etc.

So that's one thing I'll say. You can very much take your own experience of what queerness is like and map it onto the norms about friendship.

I think one thing that is important to mention is that if we are comparing to other aspec experiences, you'll see a lot of narratives, both in fiction and real life, where aro and ace characters have never been in those kinds of relationships because they never wanted them. That's almost impossible to have as an aplatonic. Even if you were the kid who was ostracized for one reason or another, there's always that one exception. People will try to adopt people who have no friends. People will declare themselves your friend even if you just see them as "that person I carpool with to rehearsal and talk to sometimes." It is almost never socially acceptable to say "no, actually I don't want to be friends." If you're a child, you'll often get punished for it; if you're an adult, you usually have to nod along to whatever they say and pretend to care and hope that eventually they notice that you'd prefer to be left alone. Obviously aplatonics with friends and who like having friends exist (hell, I'm one) but even those who don't tend to have someone just because it is extremely hard to be completely left alone if you participate in anything at all. And even if we might not consider the people we do hobbies with or talk to sometimes friends, that doesn't always go both ways.

And of course, you do need some kind of support network in the world. If you're alloromantic, aplatonic, and monogamous, you might want your partner to be the person who meets all of your needs and is everything for you... but that might not be practical. They might not like that. And if you're not in that kind of relationship, you may end up having friends for utility. It's easier to find a sexual partner if you can go along with also being their friend. Again, you might want someone to talk to about a hobby or shared interest, and in order to get that, you also have to perform the role of friendship.

The whole idea of friendship needing to have a purpose or reason or place is a big thing to me. Like, as a kid, I didn't make any friends in my dance classes for years, and I didn't care because in my eyes, I wasn't there for socialization, I was there because I liked to dance. So who cares? But meanwhile, at lunch in school? Friends have a purpose at lunch. You need a place to sit, and you need something to entertain you while you eat. So finding people to be with at lunch is important. Recess is the same way. At work? I have absolutely no interest in being friends with my coworkers. I'm at work to do work. Even if I have downtime, I still generally want to spend it on some other kind of "work" like writing. If I want to friend, that's a separate activity. I friend in my free time.

So to me, being aplatonic means I think about people's specific roles in my life and what they fill, instead of just the vague idea of friendship and that I like having people around. One friend is useful as a writing partner who I do writing sprints with. Another is nice because they're in a different time zone, so they're often awake and around during the part of work where I get bored and all my friends are asleep. Another has known me through all my mental health struggles and is generally a great listener, so they're useful to talk to about that stuff because they already have all the necessary context and immediately understand things. And yeah, as I mentioned before, another is just a really good lay, but we aren't going to only screw for twelve hours straight, so friendship does happen in the breaks in between.

And a final note — being aplatonic means I really don't mind leaving people behind. If someone moves away? I enjoyed them while it lasted, but I'm not going to be super inclined to keep things going. There are plenty of other fish in the sea. A play I'm in ends, so I won't be seeing that group of people every day anymore? Even though I really enjoyed working with them, I'm not going to mind or miss them especially. If someone actively ends a friendship with me? Well that's different. That's a form of rejection, and could be the result of me hurting them in some way or an argument that went badly. All of that is going to sting, if nothing else, because it's a form of failure. I did something wrong. But if circumstances change or we just grow apart? I'm not going to mind.

I've said this before, but that's the aplatonic story I'd really like to see. So many stories are about people who go on some big quest or adventure, and in the process it ends up creating these strong unbreakable bonds between them. They're closer than brothers now. They will never be separated again. You can see that everywhere from Lord of the Rings to Shrek and Donkey. I want to see the story where the group gets along well and they accomplish everything they set out to do, but at the end they all go their separate ways again. There aren't any hard feelings. If they run into each other again in their travels, they'll greet each other happily. They wouldn't mind working together again. But they aren't trying to stay together or stay in touch, either. It happened, and now it's over, and they're more than happy to move on.

... Shit that was long. Well I hope it was helpful!

[starstruck-sillies]

[ * We had a really interesting conversation with someone about this, and it really made us want to talk about it more because it put a big part of our discomfort with endogenics and how they treat CDD systems into words. ]

[ * The question that started this whole thing was "why are people insisting that system is a medical term and should be CDD exclusive?" So we explained our personal view, that while it isn't medical and has a muddied history, the community as a whole started with CDD systems to begin with, and we want at least a few terms related to plurality to be CDD exclusive, with system being one of them. This lead to a super interesting conversation about how endos tend to be a bit obsessed with using all the same terms CDD systems do. ]

[ * One thing we see a lot in pro endo spaces is the insistence that anything CDD systems have, endos should to. Every term, every space, every discussion, all of it, we see a lot of (pro) endos insisting that endos should be involved too. ]

[ * When we made posts talking about our bad experiences with pro endo spaces, we immediately were told we need to include the fact that (pro) endos have bad experiences with anti endo spaces too and that anti endo spaces aren't perfect either, despite that it was one single post on this topic we made that didn't include it. The one time we don't, the point we were trying to get at was ignored because we didn't include (pro) endos in it. An anti endo makes a term specifically for CDD systems only? Endos immediately complain that they aren't included with this. Someone makes a post about CDD experiences? Chances are, an endo ends up making it about them. Someone mentions there needing to be more research into CDDs? Someone else says "Don't forget endos too!!" Someone makes a space for CDD systems only? People complain that endos aren't included. Even people we see saying that it's fine for there to be separate terms and spaces for CDD systems, they later say that they're only okay with spaces being separated by this and such, not CDD and non-CDD. Every time CDD systems do, make, or say something involving their systems, endos tend to insert themselves into the conversation. ]

[ * It's an odd obsession that I've noticed, and it's nice that I'm not the only one that notices it. It really does feel like endos want to seem involved with CDD systems in everything, like they want to seem similar to us in everything. I remember one time we got anons saying that system is "just a word" and that it's "not a problem if endos use it too" which is something I see a lot of (pro) endos saying. Which begs the question, why is it only "just a word" when we want it to be exclusive? If it's "just a word" why are you so obsessed with wanting to use it? ]

[ * They compared it to the situation with cripplepunk. For those that don't know, cripplepunk, also called cpunk (since "cripple" is a slur for the physically disabled) is exclusively for physically disabled people. Meaning that able-bodied ND/mentally disabled people aren't welcomed into cripplepunk spaces, as it's focused on specifically physical disability and the discrimination they face in particular. However, despite there being alternative terms/spaces made specifically for able-bodied ND people to use, eg. neuropunk, madpunk, and autipunk, many still try to get into cripplepunk spaces anyway, insisting it's for them too. While they are disabled too, and deserve spaces to talk about their disability and the ableism they face as a result of it, the ableism that people face does vary depending on whether they're physically or mentally disabled. There are similarities into the abeism both face, like being deemed "broken" or "useless", but there's still differences between them that are important to talk about and acknowledge, and there should be separation of language and spaces for it, while still having plenty of shared language and spaces. ]

[ * This comparison really stuck out to me, and I love it really. It perfectly describes how I feel about this, seeing endos so obsessed with sharing everything with CDD systems, and inserting themselves in everything involving us. It really helped us put into words why we think this obsession is so odd, and I feel like it's not only a very interesting conversation to have, but also an important one. ]

-Splotch

[cnnamongirl]

(High School stories. teenager Liam and you at the same class, and he fell for you))

FLUFFY

St. Mary’s High was the kind of place where everyone knew who Liam Gallagher was.

He was the guy who was always late, the one who kicked the hardest on the football field, who cursed loudly in the hallways and still managed to make all the girls swoon. He was pure chaos. A hurricane of messy hair and a crooked grin.

You?

You were the complete opposite. Top of the class, always with neatly organized books, always in a perfectly ironed uniform, and, most importantly, always invisible to the mess that was his world.

Or at least, you were supposed to be.

The first time you found a note in your literature notebook, your heart skipped a beat.

"Hey, nerd. I know you’ve been looking at me. Keep doing it, I like making you nervous. — L.G."

You looked around, face burning, nearly tearing the page in half, convinced it was some cruel joke.

But when you glanced to the back of the classroom, Liam was there. Leaning back in his chair, wearing that half-smile like he knew exactly the effect he had on you.

You didn’t reply. Of course not. It was madness. You two lived in completely different worlds.

But the next day, there was another note. And another. And another.

Until one day, you couldn’t help yourself. You wrote back. Slipped the note into his pencil case when he left for football practice.

"Maybe I do look at you. You seem interesting when you’re not being insufferable."

When he found it, he looked at you with those sparkling blue eyes and bit his lower lip, holding back a smile.

After that, the notes became a routine. Quick words, secret messages, teasing that got bolder each day. But there was always a line he seemed afraid to cross.

"You’re way too good for me, sweetheart. I don’t want to mess you up."

"Maybe I want to be messed up by you." — you wrote back, your hand shaking, barely believing you’d actually written it.

In the next class, Liam leaned over your desk, his eyes burning into yours.

"You should really stop this, you know? I’m no good for you."

"Then prove me wrong." — you whispered, challenging him.

And he looked at you like he wanted to kiss you right there, in the middle of the classroom. But he held back. For now.

You both knew — the game had already begun. And there was no stopping it.

That afternoon’s note was different. No teasing, no jokes. Just a simple request, almost shy, like it had taken him effort to write it.

"Behind the football field, after class. I’ll be waiting. — L.G."

Your heart raced. Behind the football field? No one ever went there. It was a forgotten corner, with overgrown grass and a big tree casting shade. It seemed like the perfect place for a secret.

When class ended, you went. Quick steps, nervous hands. When you turned the corner, there he was — Liam Gallagher, lying on the grass, arms behind his head, uniform all messed up, hair wild in the wind.

Next to him: a crumpled pack of chocolate biscuits and two bottles of soda.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said without even sitting up, just turning his head towards you. "Sit down. Welcome to our humble picnic."

You laughed, dropping onto the grass beside him.

"You brought chocolate biscuits?"

"Of course. I’m a man of taste." He grabbed a biscuit, bit into it, and then offered it to you.

"So tell me, have you always been this… perfect? Or is it just a front to hide that you actually like hanging out with guys like me?"

"Maybe I’ve always liked bad boys," you answered, taking the biscuit from his hand and biting into it slowly, teasing him. "I just never had the guts to get close to one."

Liam looked at you seriously for a few seconds.

"You should stay away, you know? I ruin things. I ruin everything."

"Maybe I need to be a little ruined," you said, looking at him in a way that made his chest tighten.

It was the first time you really talked. No notes. No secret teasing.

You told him about your sticker collection, about spending your afternoons listening to silly songs and watching romcoms, even though you told everyone you hated them.

He laughed, called you adorable, then — without even realizing it — started opening up. He talked about Manchester City like it was family. About watching games with his older brother, about climbing fences to sneak into the stadium, about street fights because he always defended his team with everything he had.

"You talk about City like it’s… your home."

"Maybe it is," he said, tossing a biscuit crumb at you. "It’s the only place that makes sense."

"Maybe you can have another place that makes sense."

He looked at you again, more serious this time, like he was trying to figure out what you really meant. You didn’t look away. And he was the one who broke the silence, leaning in slowly, his eyes locked on yours.

"Tell me to stop."

"I’ll never ask you that."

The first kiss was soft, slow, your lips brushing like you were both afraid to break the moment. The second one was deeper, more urgent, his hands cupping your face like he’d finally let himself fall.

"This is wrong," he whispered against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours. "You’re way too good for me."

"Then let me ruin you."

He smiled. "You’re way more dangerous than you look, sweetheart."

The rest of the afternoon passed like that: lying on the grass, sharing biscuits, talking nonsense, holding hands like the world outside didn’t exist.

And maybe, right there behind the football field, you’d both found a new home. One just for you.

The secret didn’t last forever.

It was just another Friday when you ran — like you always did — to meet Liam behind the field.

You were laughing, sharing a bag of chips, when he pulled you into a quick, clumsy kiss full of longing.

The problem? The headmaster walked by. And he saw.

Mr. Thompson was known as a tyrant. The kind of man who loved rules, especially when it came to troublemakers like Liam.

The next day, you both got called to his office. The door slammed shut, and his cold, judgmental eyes landed on you first.

"I expected this behavior from Mr. Gallagher," he started, his voice dripping with disgust. "But you, miss perfect, I must say, I’m disappointed. I was preparing to recommend you for a university scholarship. Now, maybe a suspension will help you understand the consequences of getting involved with… trash."

You froze. The world collapsed around you. Suspension meant losing everything you worked for. Your grades. Your reputation. Your future.

But before you could say anything, Liam shot up so fast his chair nearly toppled over.

"With all due respect, sir…" he practically spat the word. "What we do outside of class is none of your business. And if you’re gonna punish someone, punish me. I started it. I insisted. She just… put up with me."

"Mr. Gallagher, you’re out of—"

"Give me the suspension. Expel me. Do whatever you want. But if you lay a finger on her, I swear I’ll never come back to this school."

The silence was heavy. You clutched your hands, tears in your eyes, wanting to scream that it was both your fault. But Liam looked at you like he was begging: Let me carry this for you.

Mr. Thompson, grumbling, ended up giving you only a formal warning, but he suspended Liam for "inappropriate behavior."

After school, you almost punched him.

"You’re insane! I didn’t need you to defend me like that!"

"Yes, you did," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, his eyes burning with anger… and fear of losing you. "I won’t let anyone touch you. Not to punish you. Not to look at you wrong."

That’s when you understood. He might’ve had a reputation, but to you, he was just… Liam. Your Liam.

You started going to his house. His room was messy, band posters on the walls, Manchester City shirts everywhere. He’d greet you with messy hair and a lazy grin, like seeing you was the best part of his day.

You spent afternoons playing video games, watching movies on the couch, lying on his chest while your fingers played with the hem of his shirt.

"What’s the deal with these silly romcoms?" he’d ask, pretending to be bored.

"Because they have happy endings," you’d say, smiling.

"You think we’ll have a happy ending?"

"I’m already living it."

He’d pull you closer and kiss you like he never wanted to let you go.

Then you brought your pencil case and said, "I’m fixing your eyebrows today. They’re a disaster."

"You’re not touching my face, sweetheart."

"You’ll look cute."

He grumbled but sat between your legs, closed his eyes, and let you carefully pluck them.

"This is torture," he’d complain, trying not to laugh.

"You’ve survived worse on the football field. Handle a little pain."

When you finished, you kissed his forehead.

"Perfect now."

"I was already perfect. But with you… I think I’m finally whole."

The secret was gone. And honestly? You didn’t care anymore.

After the day Liam defended you in front of everyone, after the deep talks, the movies on the couch, and the nights when you’d hold him to sleep, hiding felt way too small for what you had.

It was official now. It was us.

You showed up at school together on Monday. For the first time, he waited for you at the gate, leaning on his old bike, bag slung over his shoulder, wearing that crooked grin that said it all.

When he saw you, he opened his arms.

"Come here, sweetheart."

You went. Right in front of everyone.

He hugged you tight, spun you around like he always did when he missed you, and kissed you long and slow, not caring who was watching.

"Now everyone knows," you whispered, a little breathless.

"Good. I want them to know. I want them to see you’re mine."

The school hallways were never the same after that.

The girls whispered. The boys stared. The teachers frowned at first. But no one dared say a thing. Liam was the kind of guy no one challenged. And you… well, you were his soft spot now.

You started holding hands around the courtyard, sharing the same earphones during breaks, sitting in the back of the class — because he said it was where he could "watch you all he wanted."

He’d bring extra sandwiches for you and pretend he made them himself, even though it was clearly his mum.

"Tastes good today, huh?" he’d ask, biting into his.

"Yeah. You made this?"

"Of course not. But I did think of bringing two."

You spent more and more time at his house.

He’d open the door in oversized shirts, messy hair, that soft grin. It became normal for you to tidy up his room, play cheesy love songs, make his bed — he’d pretend to hate it but secretly loved every second.

"You know I used to be way cooler before you turned me into a lovesick idiot, right?"

"You’re still my bad boy. Just also my lovesick idiot now."

One day he looked at you and said, "You’re everything I never thought I could have."

And you, laughing, replied, "And you’re everything I never thought I’d want."

That’s how you lived: you showing him cute songs, him teaching you how to kick better, you painting his nails with clear polish "just to see if you could get away with it," him letting you, but complaining the whole time.

"This is gonna look ridiculous, sweetheart."

"Trust me. It’ll look cute."

"I don’t do cute."

"You do now."

He’d hold your hand in the middle of the hallway, hug you from behind when you were distracted, call you "sweetheart" with that little smile that was just for you.

And everyone knew: you belonged to each other.

No more hiding. No more fear. No more secret notes.

But the same love. The same fire. The same feeling that started with a scribbled note and became your whole world.

Now it was just… us.

[bakersimmer]

You may have answered this before, so I apologize if you have, but 20+ gens in - how do you decide goals for your sims & their spouses? I love how the legacy seems like such a great balance of things to achieve while still having fun!

No need to apologize! 💛 I'm always happy to talk about this kind of stuff. Long answer ⬇

I usually follow a few loose "formulas" when figuring out goals for my Sims.

Things I haven't done yet or haven't done in a while. I like to challenge myself to try something new or revisit something I haven't explored recently.

A defined storyline – I often start with a concept or backstory, and then I pick aspirations, skills, or careers that naturally fit that narrative.

New Expansion/Game Packs – When a new pack is released, I try to build a generation around it to explore its features more deeply.

Skills that support the Sim's aspiration – For example, if a Sim has a social aspiration, I would intentionally build up charisma, comedy, and mischief, not because the aspiration requires it, but because it feels right for their personality.

As for spouses, I usually keep it more relaxed. I try to complete the aspiration their creator gave them, plus Soulmate. Some aspirations are definitely more demanding than others, so I sometimes have to put in a lot of extra work to complete them. My born-in-game Sims have a big advantage in terms of skills and traits because they've been developing them from childhood. But a Sim added into the game is often a blank page. That's why I don't give them many goals.

I'm definitely the kind of person who's motivated by goals and checking things off a list. But that kind of system doesn't work for everyone, and that's totally okay. What does matter is figuring out what actually motivates you. Is it structure? Is it spontaneity? Is it storytelling or completion? Once you know that, it's a lot easier to build gameplay around it.

I've also set goals in the past that I ended up changing or dropping entirely because they just didn't hold my interest or I didn't have the energy. Sorules and goals are great, but they should be flexible. If something doesn't excite you, it's really easy to abandon it. And that's where adjusting your own expectations can actually keep the fun alive. My general advice is to start simple because you can always add more challenges later on.

After 22 generations, keeping track of everything—what I've already done, which aspirations I've used, which skills I haven't maxed, even just remembering all the names—gets hard. So I trained ChatGPT to be my legacy assistant. I feed it the info, and it helps me track who did what, when, and which names I've already used.

I hope this answer gives you a few ideas to work with.

[chiqita]

WIP Wednesday <3

Got tagged by: @labskeever

No pressure tagging: @skyrim-forever @theoneandonlysemla @hircines-hunter @dirty-bosmer @friend-of-giants @sunlightpassingthroughthewater @pyre-of-pages @pocket-vvardvark @boiledkwamaegg

And anyone who feels like doing this bit, anyone's free to tag me as always, I want to see your WIPs!

I haven't gotten much actual writing done during this week, I've just been editing stuff. It's hot, it's humid, you know how it is. So, enjoy whatever this is, continuing from last Wednesday's piece.

CW: Violence

There it was. Talisse didn’t respond right away. She let the silence stretch between them. Her cheek throbbed from the strike, and the bark dug into her spine, but she held his gaze. “You’ve got a real gift for saying sorry without actually meaning it. Impressive, really.” Malkar’s smile deepened. “You misunderstand,” he said. “I meant it. I don’t condone senseless cruelty.” “Just the sensible kind?” His expression didn’t change, but the glint in his eyes turned flinty. “I condone what’s necessary. And you seem to have a particular talent for making things more difficult than they need to be.” Talisse didn’t answer him. She had no interest in dignifying Malkar’s words with a response. The others resumed their talk, turning away from her completely now, as if she were no longer a person but just another piece of gear to be packed up and carried. That suited her just fine, she had no interest in exchanging pleasantries with them. When they finally began to break camp, the justiciars handled her roughly, jerking her to her feet. But it was Rellus who intervened, steady and unhurried in his movements. He guided her to the horse and helped her into the saddle with careful hands. She caught the sideways glances from the others, heard the muttering. “She can walk. No need to coddle her.” But Rellus didn’t rise to it. He didn’t even look at them, his silence spoke louder than any retort. Whatever his reasons, he wasn’t letting her walk, which suited her just fine. Maybe saving a justiciar’s life came with a sliver of leniency. It wasn’t comfort, exactly, but it was something. And Talisse had no intention of wasting it. With her hands bound behind her back and the justiciars preoccupied with whatever they were doing, she bent her wrist slowly, fingers curling around the hilt of the dagger still sheathed at her hip. She eased it out with care, barely daring to breathe. The blade whispered free. Bit by bit, she twisted and sawed at the rope, the strands fraying under the edge. Hope flared sharp in her chest. A plan. A sliver of control. She didn’t need to outrun them all, just enough to disappear into the trees. Just enough to make them regret not checking more carefully. But the rope gave way too suddenly, and her elbow jerked. The motion drew eyes—one of the justiciars snapped his gaze toward her. Instinct surged. Talisse kicked her heels into the horse’s flanks, and it leapt forward in a startled burst. She then clung to the reins, urging it into motion, but she got no further than a heartbeat before a gauntleted hand closed around her arm. She was yanked sideways from the saddle. The ground came up fast and hard, knocking the breath from her lungs. A golden-clad justiciar was on her in an instant, pinning her down with the weight of his armored body and the brutal efficiency of someone trained for this exact task. His knee ground into her spine, trying to hold her in place, but Talisse twisted beneath him, rage sharpening her movements. She drove her shoulder up and managed to shove him off balance, then slammed her boot into his side. He grunted and rolled, cursing as he slid into the dirt. Another came—the one that had insulted her. Perfect. She caught the glint of his armor a second before he reached for her. She met him with an elbow to the face, then another to the chest, the jarring impact to his armor sending pain lancing through her arm. But it didn’t matter, pain only meant she was still alive, still fighting.