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What Am I Doing - Blog Posts
Let's be a little too optimistic and illogical
Akane's wish in Teru's phone
mornings
john lennon x reader
(era: teddy boy? or any era you would like.)
warnings: NO MATURE CONTENT, fluff, pet names?
——————————
john cursed silently as he accidentally put his hand onto the hot pan to feel if it was warm enough to start the eggs. it was. he was too focused on the burning sensation that he didn’t acknowledge you, his lovely girlfriend of 2 years, padding down the stairs, until you wrapped your arms around his torso.
“hey, baby.” you sleepily mumbled into his shoulder blades, he was still wearing his pyjamas. john was a morning person, very cautious to get to bed ON TIME and out of bed exactly at 7:30am on weekends (6:30am on weekdays.).
“the bloody pan was two hot!” he cried out, turning around and shoving his hand into your face, which you sleepily looked over.
“stop yer wining and stop vigorously moving yer hand so i can actually look at it!” you exclaimed, gently taking hold of his wrist to inspect. you lead him over to the sink and ran cold water over the now red and irritated skin.
“you should know how to treat burns.” you smiled slightly at his piercing glare at the pan on the stove. you kissed his hand after a few minutes of running it under water, and brought out some gauze and carefully wrapped the skin.
“thanks, love.” he muttered, his nasally scouse accent is one of the things that made you fall head over heels for him, not that he was popular, or any such things like that. you ruffled his messy chocolate brown hair.
you took over the cooking for now, as he watched the telly in the living room.
——————————
(p.s, i had to re post this bc it was tagged as mature 😭😭)
Obsessed "Baby, Only You!" It filled every inch of my heart with love! May I ask what your fave Beatles album and song are? Mine are Revolver and "Dear Prudence." May I also please make a request for Jack Hughes? Anything more with him and a more stoic/quiet in public girl, would love to see where your incredible mind takes you. The way he understands and defends is just...yes! I needed that lol. Please and thank you!
i’d do it a hundred more.
(JACK HUGHES x reader)
hey!! thank you so so so much literally this made my day. 🫶🏻
my fav beatle albums def are sgt peppers and help (i adore the movie), and my fav songs are the long and winding road, i want you (she’s so heavy), across the universe, sgt pepper’s lonely hearts club band and julia :))
warnings: no mature subjects, fluff, no proofread (you can tell i never proofread my stuff)
—————
you had always been a quiet kid, stoic and stern looking. that obviously lead to you having a resting bitch face, making not many people approach your phlegmatic gaze.
not many kids were your friends, forcing you to turn your back to society and do things yourself, cold walls lifting to sternly keep out outsiders.
that was,
until jack. he melted those ice walls, wiggling himself in a short period of time, to be the centre of your universe. you fell in love with this man, the way his wide smile made your lips curl into a grin, the way his blue eyed gaze was boyish and gentle, the way he reassured you when a girl tried to get his number and hit on him, he stood up for you, most important of all. he was your everything.
he understood everything about you, your reactions, how you felt in public and how you were the most loud and outgoing person on the inside, when it was just them two, locked away giggling together.
jack held your heart and kept it protected, he knew your past, and you like the back of his hand, so he made it his part to protect you from jabs that people made.
one of his teammates girlfriends took a shot in mocking you and jack was sure to glare at her and tell her off.
“why do you look like that? you aren’t even in jacks league. don’t even pretend you aren’t not trying in the relationship.” the girlfriend snootily said, her boyfriend did nothing in reply to defend you. you glanced towards jack and could see him get angry, so you squeezed his knee, but he still started to yell at the girl, making her jaw drop and her eyes open wide.
“you don’t know her!”
“don’t ever speak about her in that way!”
“don’t speak on our relationship!”
jack roughly grabbed your hand and walked you out.
“you didn’t have to do that.” you said quietly, kicking some tiny rocks on the pavement with your shoe.
“for you? i’d do it a hundred more times.”
—————
sorry if this ain’t any good but
🫶🏻❤️🤍
babe, only you.
jack hughes x reader
to feed my jack obsession recently, here’s a bit of angst and fluff (no mature content). please, enjoy.
also: there’s no proofread, so..
—————————
you found yourself always wondering; “am i good enough for him?”, “do i deserve him?”. comments had been lashed out earlier this evening to darken those already eerie thoughts that you fought so hard to not reside with. a long, long stay.
jack came into the room, that was the man that’s ‘in love with you’. those thoughts slashed at your mind little cuts kept wracking your head. the trance you were in was broken by your lovers lips lovingly placed onto your head, and you felt the couch slightly dip when he sat down beside you. his arm snaked around your shoulders and pulled you close to him, your head lying on his shoulder.
no one questioned if he did enough in this relationship. no one made snarky comments on how he was so quiet, how he looked like he never put enough effort into how he showed his love, but they did to you. and it was torture trying to hit those thoughts out of your brain. every single one of those comments lingered for longer and longer each time someone made another.
“what’s wrong?”
his soft voice lingered in the room as he ran his calloused hands up and down your arm. the television was playing in the background, an old re-run of big bang theory, muted, but with subtitles.
“jack, it’s just,” you started, why couldn’t you form words. a pang in your heart stung against your chest. “i don’t deserve you.” you whispered, he froze, eyes straying from the tv and to your slumped form against him.
“what makes you think that?” he murmured, his blue eyes connected with your glossy (e/c) ones.
“i- im not good enough-“ you were cut off by a sweet kiss to the lips. “don’t talk like that. i don’t care if your quiet, i don’t care what people say about our relationship, (y/n)!” he exclaimed. “people don’t know you, and how lucky i am to actually know and to be with you. i thank anyone in the skies above that they let me hold your hands. you are everything, my universe, my world. don’t let people tear into you.”
he rubbed his hands up and down your spine as you sobbed painfully into his chest, dampening his shirt.
the thoughts were still there, but at least you had someone to guide you along this long and winding road.
“i love you.”
Can i rq a ringo x reader were the reader is an assistant for The beatles and is really burnt out and tired and ringo tried to care for them?<3
What’s up buddy 😝😝
Hello! First req ahh n this is so cute !!!
If I fell in love with you
Warnings: FLUFF. (And John being annoying.) (and bad writing.)
You happened to be an assistant to one of the biggest bands at the time, and it was absolutely lovely. Just kidding!! The Beatles made it a bit more difficult to work, John who would take his sarcastic and idiotic comments and remarks to a whole new level, eventually annoying the living crap out of you. George was okay, but he honestly talked your EAR of when he had the chance, how could anyone CONSIDER him the ‘quiet Beatle’? Paul was… okay, he had very pretty eyes, though. And then there was little old Ringo. He wasn’t as annoying. He had a pretty voice.
Brian had assigned you to keep an eye on the boys in a hotel in America, as it was their first time, and they strictly needed to stay in the hotel at all times for the show the following day.
“Would’ya pass me the water, Macca?” John asked innocently, his nasally British accent rang out. Paul passed over the salt as he had a burger half in his mouth. John grinned. ‘Oops.’ He muttered, still smiling as he poured the whole jug on Paul’s head. Macca’s eyes widened as the water trickled down his face and clothes, and he slowly turned to John. “It’s on, Lenny.” Paul picked a handful of whatever the heck was on the table, and hurled it towards John.
“Boys, please-“ you tried to interrupt, knowing their suits were freshly washed, dried, and ironed by indeed, you. You sighed deeply and wiped a hand down your face. You shouldn’t have signed up for this position. It was silly.
“John, food down!” Your voice raised slightly, a thing you never did, catching the attention of John, who put down the food and shrugged, still giggling at Paul, and Paul was doing the same. You could never control these boys, and it was like a war zone job if you did say so yourself.
After the food fight, no, literal war, you went back to your room and curled up on the bed, staring at the ceiling, praying to God that tomorrow wouldn’t be as bad.
A soft knock was heard on the thick wood of the door.
“Come in!” You hollered, (your nationality) accent wavered a tad.
The door creaked open. Maybe it was a serial killer? Just kidding.
Ringo stood in the doorway, plate in hand.
“hi.” You said, rushing to sit up and fix your skirt and hair, nodding in the process.
“Hello, love.” Ringo nodded, stepping farther into the threshold of your room. “Brought ‘ye supper.” He said softly, approaching your bed. You studied his face, his nose, and how his eyes were a perfect china shade of blue. You noticed how his hair falls on his forehead, and how the brown colour accentuated his rosy red cheeks.
“Why are you doing this for me?” You ask quietly, taking the plate, fingers heating up from the bottom of the plate.
“‘Cuz yer workin’ hard, and John n Paul n Goergie ain’t makin’ it easy for ye.” He shrugged and sat beside you, smiling a bit.
Gosh, his smile.
“Aww, Ringo.” You blush, smiling slightly. He smiled back and put his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly and getting up. “I’m gonna run you a bath.” He grinned playfully, running off into the bathroom.
How sweet. Maybe being The Beatles assistant isn’t that bad. <3
(Ik this isn’t really the req im sorry i had trouble thinking of stuff : , ( )
get this man a new stick 😭😭😍🙅🙅😩😍🙅🧏😔🧏🙅🙅🧏😍😢😢🔥😣😣💥❌🔥❌💀💥❌💔😡☠️
thinking of starting an RP blog but im too nervous to reach out and don’t know where to look for people LOLOL
How do i send this to someone without actually sending it to them
I have become painfully aware of the fact that I have yet to do an intro on this site-
Hello everyone!!
My name is Stanley. I use he/him pronouns, and like to do art.
I can be kinda dumb and slightly forgetful from time to time, but I’m trying my best!
I also like to use tonetags from time to time, just in case-
I don’t really know what else to put here, so I’ll keep updating this as we go-
Thank you for reading this, so sorry for not having much here,
Stanley!
Sammy Lawrence Has A Headache
૮ • ﻌ - ა
Ouch
OOP HI!! It’s been at least a year since I last posted (whoops) 😭
But I’ve been wanting to do a little art challenge for Women’s History Month, inspired by the challenge @southpauz does for Black History Month (go look at her art btw she’s amazing!!!). I figured this year, of all years, was a good time to finally actually do it. So I’ll be trying to do a drawing of a different female character each day this month! Hopefully!! We’ll see if I can keep up with it!!!
I’m already a day late, but for day 1 I’m doing my own character, Tuesday. This is also a re-draw of an older piece from (I think) 2020.
One more thing I might do is put these designs up on RedBubble. I had a thought that maybe I could donate like 50% of the profits to a charity. Still figuring out which one, maybe planned parenthood or something similar. If anyone has any recommendations please lmk! I’ll do my own research on a few options too.
Guess its time for introductions:
HI.
my name's Miel, she/her pronouns and uh yeah...
I'm really into Gravity Falls, Cookie run kingdom, Fallout, QSMP, Poptropica (kinda but not really but i know all the lore buts thats another story-)Tommyinnit, Phineas and Ferb, Quackity, and slow mexican folk music :))
first blog post so uh yeah send in asks i guess? idk how this app works :\\
i have exams coming up and yet i've been so engrossed in online quizzes like why are they so addictive? How did i go from which music album suits me best, to which henry viii wife i am?
Ooooookay.
So this is partially the blog post I promised to my awesome mysterious tumblr mutual @lostclouds-world and partially an autism issue rant. If you don’t want to deal with that kind of stuff go ahead and skip this one.
So my friend that I’ve caught feelings for, has also told me numerous times that if I ever needed to talk that she’d listen. Well, of course I took that at face value, and because of how crappy this week has been mentally and lots of things bothering me, I finally caved and just poured it all out, including how I feel. It felt great to get everything off my chest, but I almost immediately felt like I had made some sort of mistake. It was so unfair of me to just put that all out there, even though I’d been told if I needed to I could.
Well it took almost all day for her to respond, and it turns out I was flipping right. I had once again apparently overstepped, and overshared. I had no shot to begin with, and now I’m not even sure I’ve got a friend because I was having a mini-crisis and turned to someone who had consistently told me that I could go to them if I needed to get stuff off my chest. So that’s that part. Now for the rant.
So why the flip do I even trust anyone when they say they’ll be there for me anymore? That every time someone says that if I need to talk, that they’ll listen? Pretty much every time I trust that, it turns out to be a lie. And why the flip do they try to assume that I want them to fix it?? Like if I’m talking to someone about something I don’t want them to fix it, I just want them to listen. I’m capable of dealing with crap myself, but talking it out helps. I swear sometimes I really hate being autistic because I can’t ever seem to be able to understand what people actually mean. And more importantly, why the flip do neurotypical people say things they don’t mean?? Like just say exactly what you mean, not what you think you should say. I’d have a lot more respect for people if that was how it worked.
But it’s not how it works, and so I’m stuck in a seemingly endless loop of trusting people only to be told that they’re not my therapist. Like you bitch of course you’re not my therapist. You’re my flipping friend, and YOU TOLD ME I COULD TRUST YOU IF I NEEDED TO TALK. But when I actually need to talk, it’s always either “I’m not equipped to handle this” or some variation of “I’m not your therapist”. Like cool, I wish I would’ve known you didn’t actually intend to just listen and let me rant BEFORE I came to you to rant.
And you know what, maybe it is just my fault for ranting to them in the first place. Yet when I talked to my therapist about wanting friends who will listen and be there for me while not trying to fix my problems for me, I was told BY MY THERAPIST that I needed to find friends who would do that. And how the flip am I supposed to do that without trusting my friends? I swear that I’m going to lose my mind if even one more person that tells me I can talk to them when I need to about whatever I’m going through only to turn around and act like I’m overstepping a boundary. People can really frigging suck without being a horrible person.
Like I’ve had a lot of good friends who are usually good people that I trusted only to then essentially lose them because I talk to them about whatever I’m going through, good or bad. So I’m questioning why the flip I even try to trust people anymore. Maybe it’s because I like trusting people to be good people, or maybe it’s because I can’t seem to not take people’s words at face value. Either way, it’s just another way my autism is alienating me from those close to me. And I can’t help but feel like it’s all my fault somehow because I just trust people’s word and take them at face value. I wish I wasn’t like this and that I could just be normal and not struggle with this stupid part of living. I swear eventually the only people I will ever interact with is random people on the internet. Anyway, rant over. Thanks for coming, I’ll see y’all whenever. Hope y’all are doing better than I am
In class today, we had to design a person named “leg man.” (Long story)
Anyway this is gonna be my contribution, and the first formal art project of the school year.
how do people tumblr do I just tumble down a hill or something?
Because if so how far do I tumble until I find the secrets of tumblr?
Vid 2
First post
Third post
What’s wrong with Bychance?
It’s not that I HATE bychance it’s just that chance isn’t a good person and I really doubt that will would like/date him.
I mean chance did in fact bully, hunt and attack wills friends in season 4, and I really don’t think will would just accept that and like/date him.
But don’t get me completely wrong I don’t wanna be classified as a toxic byler (I’ve seen toxic bylers and milkvans and I don’t want to be part of that) and IF and ONLY IF chance wouldn’t have been an “antagonist” (by yk BULLYING HUNTING AND ATTACKING wills friends) and would have been a supportive character by maybe idk telling jason hunting down and killing Eddie (and his friends yk hellfire/hawkins gang) was taking it too far, I would have been cool with bychance but yk he was part of that and supported jason in attempted murder (directed to eddie and WILLS FRIENDS) so I seriously doubt will would ever consider dating chance.
But I can still see bychance as an option if chance wasn’t such a dick and all the season 4 shit with the basketball team didn’t happen.
I’m not telling you to stop shipping it ok it’s your choice but shipping it hardcore is a bit far (saying this as someone who before all the drama started liked bychance I didn’t ship unless it was for byler plot purposes but I did like it).
maroon
calex !! 2k wc
first time posting a fic on here YIKES
i was going to make this longer but i got through one part and got bored
updated!!
inspired by Maroon by Taylor Swift
sue me
The first rays of pale sunlight seeped through the windows of Alex Cabot’s loft, illuminating the incense ash that sprinkled across the oak floor.
Casey Novak, with her rumpled hair and wine-flushed cheeks, tucked her legs beneath her and knelt beside the record stand. She gently brushed the sandalwood from cardboard jackets: Rumors, Tusk, Mirage. Faint creases on sleeve corners told their own quiet stories of late‑night needle drops long before she’d moved in, long before Alex had made space for another toothbrush beside hers.
From across the rug, Alex tipped the soiled incense holder over the small trash bin, grimacing as the ash slid from the ceramic in a hush of gray. Her borrowed Harvard Law crewneck hung just past her thighs; every time she shifted her weight, Casey’s gaze caught on the swing of fabric, the easy way Alex occupied her own home—and now, somehow, Casey’s too.
They’d meant to review witness statements and crash early. Instead, Alex had put Fleetwood Mac on the turntable, and Casey cracked open some cheap‑ass screw‑top rosé. Everything after Blue Letter dissolved into laughter—burned popcorn, a debate over hearsay exceptions, Casey’s terrible impression of Judge Petrovsky that made Alex choke on wine and clutch her ribs.
Steam drifted from a single mug on the coffee table—the blonde’s jasmine tea. Casey had already stolen a sip, her lipstick print glowing a faint maroon on the rim beside Alex’s own. She lounged back against the couch, idly brushing her toes against the loose hem of Alex’s sweater, a slow, playful sweep that made the burgundy fabric sway and Alex glance down with a half-smirk.
“How’d we end up on the floor, anyway?”
Alex asked, voice still rough with sleep. Casey, knees drawn up and heels resting in Alex’s lap, tugged her hair down from its haphazard bun and let it encompass her shoulders. “Easy culprit,” she said, a lazy grin tugging at her mouth. “Your old roommate’s bargain-bin wine demolished our sense of time management.
Alex’s laugh was a quick, unguarded burst, sharp and melodic, filling the loft with the kind of warmth that made everything feel brighter. The sound bounced off the brick walls, then sank into Casey’s chest, stirring something she hadn’t realized had settled there. It was a sound she didn’t know she’d need this much. One she’d come to crave more than anything. Three weeks had passed since Casey moved in. Boxes were still haphazardly stacked in corners, a lone lamp perched on the dresser with no shade. But mornings like this, with Alex beside her, had a way of making everything feel rooted in place, as though they'd shared this space for years, not just weeks.
A faint draft slipped in from the fire escape. Smoke from the incense curled and spiraled, pale and gentle against the glass, wrapping the room in its quiet calm. For a few moments, they simply listened. The soft popping of vinyl static, the ticking radiator, the steady, almost shy rhythm of two heartbeats learning the same tempo. Outside, Manhattan kept its frantic pulse, taxis groaning across the wet pavement, but from up here, the noise felt decades away.
Alex reached for the kettle, poured a second mug, and handed it over. Their fingers grazed and Casey’s pulse thrummed, not with urgency but with a grounded certainty that surprised her.
“So,” Alex said, voice soft enough that it nearly blended with the crackle of the record, “when we finally unpack those boxes, where do you want your books?”
Casey leaned her head on Alex’s shoulder. “Somewhere close. I’m tired of looking for things I’ve already found.”
Outside the window, snow began to fall, the first flake landing on the wrought‑iron rail like a single note on an open staff. Inside, two women sat amid incense ash and album sleeves, finishing lukewarm tea and memorizing a silence that felt, for once, like home.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Two nights later, winter hovered indecisively above the city, unable to choose between sleet and snow. The courthouse steps were slick and gleaming when they stepped off the curb, breath visible in the cold.
“You didn’t even call,” Casey said, not looking at her. Her heels clicked down the sidewalk.
Alex tried to catch her pace. “I was buried in witness prep, Casey. I wasn’t ignoring you.”
“You don’t even have to ignore me,” Casey shot back, then stopped, folding her arms tight across her chest. Her shirt was damp, her curls frizzing at the edges, and her voice came out low. “You just forget.”
The words landed like a slap. Casey wasn’t raising her voice, but that calm, steady tone was worse. Alex opened her mouth, closed it again. They stood in the glow of a streetlamp, faces half in shadow.
“I didn’t forget,” Alex finally said. “I just… lost track of time.”
“You always do.” Casey’s voice broke, just a little. “And I wait. And I forgive it. And I keep showing up.” She was calm, but underneath her voice was that quiet, brittle kind of sadness that never announced itself until it was already settling in.
Alex ducked into a bodega, the kind with flickering lights and a handwritten sign for oranges out front, without a word. When she came back, she had a bottle of wine (actual cork, not screw-top) cradled in her hands. “Come on,” she said. “Walk with me?”
Casey hesitated. Then, she stepped out of her heels and scooped them up by the straps. “Only if you promise not to talk about depositions.”
“I solemnly swear,” Alex said, and Casey gave her a tiny smile.
They walked under a dull streetlamp that made everything look a little more golden. Casey tipped her head back and gave a spin on the wet sidewalk, hair flying. “Tell me again why we don’t just quit and move to Barcelona.”
Alex laughed, startled and bright. “You don’t speak Spanish.”
“You do,” Casey teased, and twirled again, before handing the bottle back over. “Problem solved.”
A cab tore past, catching a puddle, Alex jolted to protect the wine, but the bottle tilted just enough to splash a crimson streak across Casey’s white blouse.
“Oh my god,” Casey gasped.
“Oh my god,” Alex echoed, horrified. “Casey, I am so sorry—”
“You spilled Rioja on the one thing in my wardrobe that didn’t already look like a crime scene,” Casey said dramatically, but her grin was spreading.
“I’ll replace it.”
“You can’t replace white-collar ugly,” Casey said, eyes dancing.
And then she started laughing. Real, unguarded, throw-your-head-back laughing. It bubbled out of her so easily that Alex couldn’t help joining in, half-doubled over with relief.
“I choose you,” Alex said between gasps, holding the wine like it was sacred. “Always. Even when I’m an idiot.”
“Especially when you’re an idiot,” Casey said, still breathless. “You’re kind of my favorite idiot.”
Then Alex tugged her closer, gingerly, because the wine bottle was still open, and Casey dropped her shoes and wrapped both arms around her neck. They swayed there, in the middle of the sidewalk, tipsy on nothing but each other.
No music. Just the soft rhythm of laughter, the spill of streetlight, and the way the world seemed briefly, wonderfully, theirs.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Casey dropped her bag. Too hard. Alex winced at the sound.
“You could’ve backed me up,” Casey said, not looking at her. “You didn’t have to cut me off like that.”
Alex, already toeing off her heels by the couch, sighed. “It wasn’t personal.”
“It never is with you.”
Alex turned slowly. “Excuse me?”
“You treat me like your intern. Like I’m lucky to even be in the room.” Casey’s voice cracked, too loud for the space between them, but still too small. Inferior. “I’m not your assistant. I’m second chair. I earned that.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Alex snapped. “You think I asked to work with someone who—” She stopped. Bit the rest off and swallowed it down.
Casey stared. “Someone who what?”
Alex said nothing.
“Jesus,” Casey breathed. “You’re unbelievable.”
She shifted nervously. She knew she was getting ahead of herself but the words were coming out too fast for her mind to stop it. “You don’t even see it, do you? You walk into a room and everyone listens. You speak and people shut up. You don’t have to prove yourself every goddamn day.”
There it was. What Casey could never quite say out loud. The burden that loomed between them. A brick wall. That she felt like a shadow beside Alex. That even when they were laughing, touching, kissing, part of her never stopped wondering how long it would take for Alex to realize she could do better.
Alex crossed her arms, spine straight as a ruler. “You’re being emotional.”
That did it.
Casey’s eyes went glassy, but her jaw locked tight. Alex’s gaze flickered. Just for a second. But it was enough. Enough for Casey to see the wall slam into place behind her eyes. Cold. Controlled. Done.
“I love you,” Casey said, a last-ditch effort, her voice ragged. “But I’m tired of feeling like this. Like I’m chasing after someone who won’t even turn around.”
Alex blinked, but didn’t move. Didn’t answer. The silence pressed in so hard Casey thought it might crush her. She turned and stormed down the hall. And when she reached the bedroom, she didn’t hesitate, just slammed the door so hard it rattled the frame. Then came the sobs. Messy, awful ones, muffled into the sheets of their shared bed,
Out in the living room, Alex stared at the door for a long minute. Then she picked up her heels and her keys and walked out. Quiet. Composed. Like she hadn’t just left a wreck behind her.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°
Crammed into the single‑stall bathroom at the office, whisper‑laughing like schoolgirls at a sleepover instead of two ADAs with open case files and coffee breath.
“Stop moving,” Casey hissed, blotting at Alex’s collarbone with a wet paper towel that wasn’t helping at all.
“I told you not to use teeth,” Alex whispered back, biting her lip to keep from laughing. Her button-down was already halfway open, revealing a smudged scarlet mark just peeking over the neckline.
“I didn’t use teeth,” Casey grinned. “Not exclusively.”
Alex glared but her lips twitched. “You’re a menace.”
The mirror caught the flush on both their faces, the way Alex leaned into Casey’s touch like it was gravity. Somewhere outside, footsteps echoed down the hall, but the moment stayed quiet, warm, dizzy with stolen time.
“We should probably get back,” Alex said, though she didn’t move.
Casey’s fingers brushed the mark one last time. “Too late. Everyone already saw your scandalous hickey. The entire floor knows you’re getting railed by your second chair.”
Alex snorted. “Jesus.”
“Don’t worry,” Casey murmured, eyes soft now. “I’ll make sure you win your next case. For…reputation’s sake.”
And Alex, against all her instincts, let herself laugh, really laugh, and pulled Casey in by her stupid tie.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°
She didn’t even hear the front door close. Just the quiet afterward, thick and mean, like the apartment itself was holding its breath. She slid down the side of the bed until she hit the floor. Her coat was still buttoned, hair still pinned, makeup smudging with every wipe of her sleeve. Her sharp composure was gone, replaced with a mess of hiccuped sobs and red eyes, knees pulled up to her chest.
There were no more hickeys now. No giggles. Just silence thick as grief and the echo of Alex’s voice saying nothing at all when it mattered. She’d cried herself sick and quiet, tucked under her blanket with the door still locked, but it hadn’t helped. The ache stayed put.
Why did it always feel like this with Alex? She wanted to be chosen. Wanted to be seen. She loved her. God, she loved her.
But she couldn’t keep bleeding just to prove it.
In another part of the city, Alex poured herself a drink she didn’t want, stared at a text she couldn’t send. She wanted to call. To say I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Come home.
Maybe she thought Casey needed space. Maybe she was punishing herself. Maybe she didn’t know how to be soft without breaking. She told herself she didn’t slam the door because she was composed. That she left because she needed space. Because Casey was being unfair.
The words echoed in her mind, muffled by the way her chest ached, tight and quiet.
I love you.
She didn’t mean to hurt her. She never meant to. But closeness always came with edges. And love, real love, scared the hell out of her. Casey wanted all of her. But Alex didn’t know how to hand herself over without losing the pieces she spent years keeping safe.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Me realizing I made a mistake after turning in a 5 question quiz:
(Last character is Kage)
some ocs I’m hoping to one day use in some comic, if I learn how to make comics 🫠🫠🫠 just gotta live laugh love through it all
Even though he’s tried to kill Finn on like 3 separate occasions I still worry about Fern. I hope he’s doing okay.
redbubble || ko-fi