#And this is why I have a strong dislike for this people and I better not hear any shit from them about this
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gudfornuthin · 8 hours ago
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Hate is a strong word
Dae ho x gn!reader
Summary: you’re not easily annoyed, but player 388 has been getting on your nerves. Is it hate, or something more intense?
A/N: I want to preface☝🏻I’m not good at writing anything too smutty. I’ve tried my best and hope you all enjoy but yeah this is as far as smut goes for me lmao. Based on this and this request. Feedback is appreciated :)
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You hate his guts. Player 388 (you don’t care enough to learn his name) has made it his mission to piss you off any chance he gets. The very first game. Tripping you over. Bumping into your back causing you to almost get killed. Apparently both times were accidents. Then it seemed to get more personal.
He acts surprised and mad that you pass the second game. Rolling his eyes and slow clapping. Hitting your shoulder with his whenever you walk by to vote or get food. You can’t even think about ‘mingle’ without wanting to punch someone. He made it incredibly clear that the group he was in was not picking you. They needed an extra person? No chance, as he does his best to block you from the other players.
You want to confront him about it all. In general, he seemed like a reasonable guy. To everyone else at least. Very polite, enthusiastic and willing to get to know people better. Except for you. There was a target on your back, and player 388 was aiming right for it. Two can play at that game.
It’s late, and you’re in the bathroom leaning over the sink and splashing some water on your face. Like most people, the games have been getting to you mentally, and the only time you have a chance to think is when everyone else is asleep.
Unfortunately, the door opens, forcing you out of your moment of peace. You turn and see the smiling face of the man who’s been causing you trouble.
“Fantastic,” you huff and mumble under your breath.
He spots you by the sinks, the smile on his face quickly dropping. “Oh. Didn’t realise there was anyone else in here.”
“Just needed some time by myself to think,” you respond, hoping he’ll leave the conversation at that.
He doesn’t, as he moves and enters one of the stalls, his voice now slightly muffled. “Why? You ready to give up?”
You ignore him, knowing he’s trying to get a rise out of you. It’s not worth it. Don’t give him what he wants.
Player 388 exits the stall, walking over to the sinks and washing his hands. “If I were you I’d give up. Someone like you will never make it to the end.”
You finally snap. “Alright,” you back up from the sinks, glaring at the back of his head. “Have I done something to piss you off?”
Player 388 turns around, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. He shrugs, looking shocked as if he didn’t expect the confrontation.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit,” you respond. “Since the first game it’s like you’ve had a vendetta against me. For what?”
Player 388 doesn’t say anything, almost lost for words. He shifts uncomfortably, looking you up and down several times. You’re still unsure of his reasons, why he may have formed a dislike for you. But if he wants to get under your skin, then you’ll have to go deeper.
You move closer to where he stands. “Oh I get it now,” he looks up. “You’re threatened.”
“Am not,” he says, sounding like an angry child.
You shake your head, staring at him in the most patronising way you can. “You definitely are. Ex marine, acting all tough, wanting the respect he so desperately craves.”
You can tell your words are getting to him, as his nostrils flare and his brow furrows. You carry on talking.
“You see someone like me, doing just as if not better than you. Braver, stronger, more resilient. It kills you.”
You’ve moved closer, now toe to toe. You can practically feel his breath on your face.
“All that training, and deep down you’re still that terrified little bitch that had to join the marines because you weren’t good enough for anything else.”
Thump!
Player 388’s fist slams right into your jaw, knocking you sideways. You’re shocked, grabbing the side of your face and feeling a painful throbbing. You look up at player 388, a similar expression on his face.
“Oh shit-”
He doesn’t have time to say much else before you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist and pushed him to the ground. You both yell out as you crawl on top of him, throwing punch after punch, hoping one will hit. It feels messy and awkward, and you can already feel the bruises forming all over your body, but this was the breaking point.
You continue hitting player 388, your hips bucking slightly from him writhing underneath you. He lets out a small moan, loud enough for you to hear. You still, as the pair of you look at each other with shock. You move your hips harder this time, another moan coming from player 388.
“Does this turn you on?” You whisper, leaning down closer to his face. “Me beating the shit out of you, or me sitting on you like this?”
You move once more, player 388 now moving his hands to rest on your legs, halting your back and forth rocking. You can already feel something hard poking at your inner thigh, instead taking your hand and moving it to the space in between you. Pressing down, he whines, as you stroke over the fabric of his pants.
Your mouth is hovering over his, as you smirk slightly. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?”
Player 388 nods his head rapidly, as you lean down and kiss him, teeth clashing and lips devouring each other. The taste of blood falls on your tongue, not sure if it’s from the make out session or the aftermath of punching him until he bled. You can’t believe this is how things turned out. Not that you’re one to complain.
Your hand moves into his pants, gripping him strongly and continuing the stroking motion. Player 388 tries to grab your hips, but you swat him away with your other hand.
“Put your hands above your head,” you say in between kisses.
He does so, as your free hand follows them up and grabs both his wrists. You hold them in place as you pump his shaft, his none stop whining rumbling from his throat.
“Pl-please,” player 388 whimpers. “I n-need to-”
You pump him faster now, not letting him say anything else. “You wanna cum?”
Tears well up in his eyes, as your kisses trail down from his mouth to his neck. His legs are shaking and he tries desperately to move his hips higher, thrusting his member further into your hand. You’re both breathless, and you can tell player 388 is reaching his limit.
Just as he’s about to release into ecstasy, you quickly pull both your hands away, leaning back and staring down at him. He lets out a shocked gasp, raising his head as best as he can to look at you. He looks lost and you smile.
“This was fun,” you say, standing up and towering over his body. “I’m sure you can finish without me.”
You can’t help but laugh, as you slowly walk out of the bathroom, looking back briefly to see his disheveled and angry expression piercing into your figure. You still hate his guts, but he definitely hates yours more now.
- - -
Taglist:
@h3ll0k1ttyx @ivanttier @shewanfsrevenge @sugalump3d
(Sorry if it didn’t tag everyone)
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tricksh0t · 2 days ago
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★ comfort
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☾ jaime lannister x top m reader
𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ prince charming jaime lannister (s1 jaime) is my fav; also genuinely the first fic of mine where the pairing kisses lip to lip
𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 3.0k words
cw: long intro, lighthearted s*x, reunion s*x, soft, cheating, light incest (don't sue me, it's game of thrones, they're very distant cousins however many times removed) , calling your lover names playfully (bastard, asshole), more plot than porn (entire second part is s*x, but not focused on the s*x)
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"Did you grow up with boy-cousins, Lord Tywin? Sons of your father's bannermen, squires, stable boys."
"Of course."
"And you... never..?"
"No."
"Not once? Not in any way?"
"Never."
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You were never destined for anything.
You were born a Lannister, yes, but you were so far from the main line that you were set to inherit nothing. You were only a Lannister by name, long lines of second sons marrying outside of important houses over and over until your blonde locks were nothing but dirty.
Your father did not own a large sum of Lannister fortune. His greatest achievement was being the squire of one of Tywin's lesser brothers; but his brother never lead any wars, and so that was hardly a feat anyway.
When you were born, it seemed like you would follow in your father's footsteps. There was hardly anything Lannister about you.
Your greatest feat would probably be setting foot in Casterly Rock to shovel horse shit to and fro. At least then you'd get to admire your distant cousins, the glorious ones, the ones you'd use in your fantasies as the shoes you'd like to wear.
Except, one day you stole a sword and caught the eye of Tywin's lesser brother, the very same that your father had squired for. He showed you, in turn, to his brother, Tywin Lannister.
Under the Lord of Casterly Rock's eyes, you showed promise.
Before Jaime Lannister ever took up the sword with a purpose that wasn't "because daddy told me to", there was you in the training grounds as far as he could remember.
There was you, strong, barely a teen yet.
You became friends, then, under the sword. Tywin bid you an example for his son. As a boy, you were hardly fit to be an example, so instead you became friends.
Between his overzealous sister, his outcast brother, his jealous cousins and the frightened servants, you were the best friend he could ever have.
From friends, you became... not lovers, but something close. It was hardly romance, it was hormones, it was just boys being boys, and it was only fooling around. A kiss or two, sometimes longer, sometimes with tongue; playing at maturity.
With you, Jaime got a taste for breaking the rules and the thrill of sneaking out of his bedroom under the bright cast of moonlight. He got his first taste of romantic companionship, and he liked it.
You were only a couple years older then, but Jaime's dislike for letters caused him to be bound to the book for several hours a day, and so you were the stronger swordfighter.
He admired you. You were more literate than him, though most people are, and stronger, taller, more built, more worked.
You knew hardship and, as the heir to Casterly Rock, he didn't.
He got his first taste of hardship when you were summoned to become a King's Guard, and he did not like it.
Jaime had never begged before. "Don't go. Please, don't go."
And you had never denied him. "I must."
That's why, when you left for the King's Guard, he was left in despair. Despair caused impulse, and he fell back to his sister.
You did not send any ravens the years you were gone, so you grew apart. Jaime held some resentment too, for the first couple of years when he became a King's Guard, so you grew further apart.
He had his sister now, and she was a jealous woman.
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The older you grew, the more you thought of your little youthful escapades as just that, things of the youth, inconsequential to anything else of your now adult existance.
Jaime came around eventually.
He became the better swordsman. He was quite fine with letters, and stronger, taller, more discreet, more dutiful.
You were lovers once more, but only that. This time, you knew how to please a man, but again he was only learning. You pleased each other under the influence of wine, or maybe not. Maybe sometimes your minds were unobstructed, and instead, you were more truthful, softer... and some rare nights, you only talked, you shared heart-to-hearts.
But you weren't friends, not by actions. You did not talk often enough, freely enough, unguarded. You were just lovers.
Regardless, to Jaime, there was great comfort in knowing that you were somewhere in the Red Keep, still there for him, still alive. It was one of the things he fought to remember during his year-long journey back to King's Landing.
When you open your door to leave your chambers, you are quickly pushed back inside.
Jaime's there. He's different, but he's there, and he slams the door behind him. You take it as another moment where he seeks the comfort of your body, especially after what you heard had happened to him. The idea occurs naturally to you, even after a year apart.
You kiss him roughly, cupping his cheeks in your hands, because you've missed him.
Jaime breaths hard into the kiss. He's breathing hard in general, and it's more evident when he pushes you away.
You lose your footing in a daze and land on a chair. It'd be a great position, and you'd be quite excited in anticipation, if it weren't for the look on his face.
"Jaime?"
"You didn't come see me." He says, angrily. His arms are crossed, hands—hand folded over his inner elbow.
Standing before you is a shadow of the man Jaime once was. His hair is shorter, darker, his skin is tanner, he's got dark circles under his eyes. He looks worn.
This is a man who has gone through hell. This is a man going through his second war, a man who was held prisoner for a time, who had to kill his cousin, and who tracked through mud and shit to get back to his home. He was missing a bloody hand!
And you didn't go see him.
"No, I didn't." You sit up quickly, fixing the smirk on your lips to a neutral one. "I thought Cersei would keep you, or that you'd be busy recovering...or that our family would want to see you."
"Cersei saw me." Jaime said pointedly. The next moment, he's climbing onto your lap, bracketing your legs with his. "I saw Joffrey and Tommen. Myrcella is gone, and I just found out. Tyrion had his opportunity. Father wished to do nothing but scold me. I was recovering from my journey in my chambers for three days. You didn't come see me."
"I didn't... and now I see I have no excuse." You keep your eyes on him. Past his heavy lids and dark circles, his eyes are the same as you last saw them, a beautiful green.
"All I could think about was getting back to you." He says through gritted teeth, and though it was a lie, you would believe it. He shifts his hips to rub against your length, a subtle grind.
It loses all subtlety when he continues, over and over. Pleasure rises.
"You are." You say with shaky breaths, heavy enough to mirror his. Your eyes close instinctively, head tilted down to the source of your pleasure.
You haven't had him in a year. You miss him, his body. A brothel whore cannot compare.
"Look at me." His teeth are still gritted. He grasps your face with his hand, squeezing your cheeks in the pull to make you look at him.
"Jaime." You say, acknowledging him, looking at him once more.
He looks angry. It's in his gritted teeth and wide eyes and his heaving chest, it's in his words—but he's not violent, no, never to you.
You kiss him, lick into his mouth to urge his tongue to meet yours. His teeth separate, not with a screeching difficulty, but easily. It's almost familiar, the way his tongue feels against yours, the taste of his saliva.
You have known this man longer than you haven't. Perhaps he is missing a hand, perhaps he is wrinkled and older, but he is still the same man you tousled with in your youth.
You find yourselves eventually on the bed, like you have a hundred times before. You on your back, him on your lap.
Except this time it is not quite as swift, and this time he is struggling with the clasps of your armor.
"Let me."
"No."
You do it anyway. Jaime watches you sit up and he sighs. He thinks of himself as helpless, a mope of a man settled on your lap like a peasant sitting on the Iron Throne.
He sighs out of his nose once more, but to you, he only seems like a sad puppy. "Knights can hardly do this themselves. That's what squires are for. I'm sure you've never heard of a one-handed squire."
"That's not helping." Jaime huffs.
"Look," You say, with all the parts of your chest plate, shoulder parts and neck pieces off. You fix his arms around your neck, "you can still wrap them around here. That's all that matters, hm? All you need is to hold on tight enough."
"Asshole." Jaime says as he pushes you onto your back again, though there's a bit of a lift to his lips.
It's the third time he pushes you. "Pushy."
"Asshole." He repeats.
There's little else to remove after that, just the flowing scales covering your crotch that he removes easily with new determination, and your shin guards, but those won't obstruct the path to your dick.
He undoes the laces of your pants with two harsh tugs and then your cock is free to him. With the way he's looking at it like a meal, you're sure he's missed it.
"Do you still keep oil behind the curtains?" Jaime asks, already reaching behind the canopy's bedpost, where the curtain is usually wrapped securely around the flask.
"No." He looks disappointed then, for a moment. "At least it means I've been loyal to you?"
"It can just as well mean that you've only been visiting brothels." Jaime laughs, leaning his forearms on either side of your head to kiss you before you can protest.
You like this, it's easy; it's carefree and humorous. You can feel his smile against your lips.
He shifts his position to press his ass to your cock and grind against the length of it, swallowing your groan with his lips. You hardly noticed when he tugged off his own pants.
For a moment you think that might be how he gets you off, but then one of his arms leaves the mattress, and his fingers are gathering precum from the tip of your swollen head.
It sacrifices his balance, and you catch him before his full weight falls on you. "Bastard." You breathe out a laugh.
"What?" Jamie returns a grin, though it falls open just slightly when he stretches himself out with your precum as lubrication. Quite the sight.
"One journey from the North to King's Landing on foot, and suddenly you don't care for cleanliness?"
He winces slightly, "One, I was also tricked into drinking horse piss. Two, you're cumming inside sooner or later, it's not very different, is it?"
"One," You mirror with raised eyebrows, "what in the Seven Hells? Two, fair enough."
Holding up his thinner body with one hand is easy enough, and if it weren't, you'd have sacrificed the possibility of him falling onto you for the opportunity to hold his face.
You cup his cheek. In another time, a year ago, your fingernails would've been tickled by boyishly long hair. Now, his hair is only prickly.
"Will you grow it out again?"
Jaime thinks on it. He thinks about how it stuck to his face whenever it was dirty with muck or grime, about how easy it was to tug at his hair, how it was used to tug him backwards into horseshit or some other crazed punishment... but he also thinks about how much you liked it, how you often sweetly pushed it off his forehead when it stuck, how tugging at it did feel good in intimate situations such as this.
"I might." Is what he settles for, and he relishes the sight of your smile.
He's good at prepping himself and keeping a smug face. You've seen it thousands of times before, when he's tired of being ordered around and decided he needed to take control for once. You've seen him the other way around just as many times, quite willing to give up the reigns because he's just so tired.
There's just something about another person's hand.
"Oh..." Jaime moans as you push his hand away and replace his fingers with yours.
Furtheremore, you let him slump forward. You're almost—nay, you are cuddling in this way. Your legs even tangle. You've got him right on top of you, one hand over his back and the other prepping him, letting him just relax.
"That feel good?"
He's practically melting on top of you. It's rather funny how nonchalant he replies with the subtle nod of his head and, "Yeah, uh-huh."
You drag your other hand over his spine and up to hold the back of his head. "Tell me about your journey."
"Okay," He hums pliantly, "Robb Stark captured me in an ambush... which, though it cost me hell, is quite admirable for a boy born after the war. I spent several months travelling behind the army convoys as a prisoner, without a roof, without a floor. Just a stick in the mud and a shitty cage."
He recounts the journey while you prep him languidly like you have all the time in the world.
You don't have all the time in the world. You'll only have tonight, and perhaps the next night, thought it is quite unlikely. Before long, you're sure, Cersei will stop this grudge of hers and Jaime will be gone again, only crawling back after another lovers' quarrel.
"Are you listening?" Jaime suddenly asks, voice rather soft. He looks up at you, beautiful green eyes batting under his eyelashes. Yes, you're looking.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening." You say dismissively.
"Hold on a moment."
Jaime sits up to straddle you once more. You watch him go up all the way, eyes locked onto his. He's beautiful; different, worn, but still beautiful.
He shakes his head with a small laugh, "What are you looking at?"
You're so distracted with his face that you don't realize him sliding down onto your cock in one swift motion. "Fuck."
"Fuck is what you're looking at?" Jaime teases.
"Bastard."
"Ah, ah, ah," He tuts his tongue, hand on your abdomen as he rolls his hips. "you already used that one once. Be a little more creative, for once?"
You roll your eyes yet reply anyway, "Dickhead."
Jaime grins, "Better."
You settle a hand on his hip, helping guide his movements as well as make sure he doesn't lose his balance, what with the hand and all. It's... he's probably fine, but you can't help but be cautious.
You wrap your other hand on what remains of his wrist, almost as if to hold his hand. He notices the gesture.
His voice is soft when he says, "As I was saying?"
You nod your head, "As you were saying."
"About losing my hand... suppose I was way in over my head. I'd managed to convince that bastard of a man, Locke to leave lady Brienne untouched. I thought I could convince him to do more, to give me a decent meal and a fire, but instead, he convinced me that he was following along with my orders. Next moment, his men are pinning me down and he cuts my hand off himself. For the next months, he ties the bloody thing around my neck and I can't even take it off."
Grueling business to talk about while he rides you, but you've never held off from venting during these moments. It makes release all the sweeter, releasing your problems as well as your pent up sexual frustrations.
It's soft, all of it. The hand holding, the slow pace and desire to clench around every part of your cock, the eye contact, the easy way he tells you the entire story without sparing details to save his dignity.
"I should've gone after you." You sigh, kissing his bandaged wrist.
"No, you're a King's Guard, not a foot soldier." Jaime shakes his head, heaving a sigh. "You–"
You flip him over easily. "I should've gone after you." You say, and it's almost like you have authority over him, leaning over his body. You do, really, you're in control of your pleasure now.
Speechless, Jaime doesn't fight you. "Yeah."
You start up slow again, but quickly build up in chase of his pleasure. Jaime breathes out a shaky sigh, breaths growing heavier with each thrust.
"I'm sorry for all you've been through," Jaime has half the mind to protest, but you give him a look and continue, "and I wish I could kill every man that wronged you myself. I'm glad for Catelyn Stark, and glad for lady Brienne. I'm also happy that you're back, back to me. Happier than women leaving Maester Pycelle's room."
He wraps his arms around your neck, like you'd showed him earlier, and his legs around your waist. He's holding you close, for comfort, as if to make sure you're really there.
It's silly to do so. You're in front of his very eyes, your cock is fucking him open, and you're very much real.
"I'm happy I'm back with you." He mirrors with a grin, "Happier than even your cock is, I'm sure."
You kiss. No teeth, no tongue, just him and you holding it for as long as possible.
Maybe he will go back to Cersei. You think it almost inevitable; but at least you're sure there's a little part of him that loves you dearly, even if you might never admit it to each other.
For tonight, he's yours.
Yours to lavish, yours to pleasure, yours to fuck.
Yours to love.
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tardis--dreams · 2 years ago
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One thing you need to know about me is that I will never reblog anything that has the addition "this should be reblogged by everyone" or anything of the like.
#unless it's like#really funny and not a guilt trippy kind of bullshit#i can agree 130% with a post and then see that comment and I'm like#yeah no. go fuck yourself.#(this point has been made so many times but people don't get why it's annoying apparently. people don't dislike your stupid addition#because they secretly disagree with the post but because now it seems like some weird social obligation to rb is#rb this or you're a bad person is a clever marketing strategy but it's quite stupid because it weakens the original point#oh you're saying everyone should rb this? well now it looks like the ppl rbing actually just do it out of some feeling#of social obligation. not because they really want to but because they want to fulfill the arbitrary standards you just made up for being#a good person#and don't get me wrong most certainly are most people rb these posts still out of agreement with the original statement#but it's still annoying as fuck and also you'd think ppl would know by now that people don't generally like being told what to do#so my hypothesis is (and i won't do any research to prove or disprove it (i might be very wrong and most people don't mind obviously)) bjt#but my hypothesis is that people who originally agree with the post but have a strong desire of being free in their choices#won't actually end up rbing bc it's just not that free of a choice anymore bc you just had to make it 'obligatory' but we all know#nothing is obligatory on a stupid webbed site like this so they scroll past while people who maybe would have scrolled past now feel#like they might actually be a bad person if they don't do as it says but without actually caring about the content. which diminishes#the positivity the post originally was supposed to spread bc how do you tell ppl actually mean it now when they rb these things#anyway. am i ranting about something completely asinine phenomenon on tumblr.com? yes.#would it be better to not dedicate my time and energy into making a 'hate' post? absolutely. but that will never stop me from doing so#(also works for things like 'you guys HAVE to do xyz [for your (mental) health/etc]'. literally the best advice phrased like this#is counterproductive. post something that doesn't sound like you're judging everyone who does otherwise and maybe ppl will be more inclined#to believe whatever your point or statement is)#ok I'll stop#shut up amy#void screams
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lord-shitbox · 2 years ago
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win for the gozu and mezu fandom. ill have time to clean up+post this within a month
#nurarihyon no mago#gozumaru#mezumaru#should i look at the story crafting as a whole and write about the narrative purposes gozu and mezu serve? yes. will i? no#something something foil.#actually i had the words in my head until i typed that out and then i forgot them all#gozu is there on nejireme to trigger rikuos awakening mezu is probably just there to give the rest of the cast something to do#see the problem with this is the zone i care about is so narrow. i dont want to look at the big picture even if itsto see the shapes of my#little pieces better. the big picture is not my little guys.#in spy arc theyre used for like .. exposition and mostly showing how fucked up tamazuki is#you could say gozu loses to rikuo on nejireme because rikuo is in the thematic right for not disliking everyone#and wanting them to Fuck Off TM#actually i think. it was more a refutation of gozus attitude towards strength. (im going off of memory here ok) gozu implies/sees#that having strength is what gives people worth. or something similar. the main house losers arent strong;he thinks; so theyre not worthy#of bossing him around#'why did i lose to you; who arent even a full yokai' how are you stronger than me. how have my convictions in strength failed me. i think.#rikuo winning is about refuting this. the strong have power so they can protect the weak/ create a world in which the weak can thrive#is the general platform i think#something something edo yokai are the fireworks in the night#related; gyuki clan mentality seems to be a nice bridge between the 'edo vs kyoto' mentalities in human policy#(gyuki clan territory is the border between them/ furthest nura territory in that direction)#geographically theres a scale there and the gyuki clan literally middles it#time to copy paste this into my slideshow.
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honeydewandcake · 4 months ago
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“Shrimpo, you’re pathetic”
This was based on the note found in Shrimpo’s room! I have so many theories and speculations on everything in his room it’s actually making me go crazy
Read more if you want to listen to my insane ramblings!! ↓
So I have so many things to talk about —
Firstly, the punching bags and holes in the walls. Shrimpo’s hatred towards everyone is always usually verbally, but in his room there’s proof that it’s physically too. This leads me to believe a lot of things:
— Shrimpo is somewhat strong, at least strong enough to break through the walls.
— Shrimpo tries to at least control his anger. He could easily beat someone but he limits himself by only being a verbal bully. He must relieve all his more aggressive emotions in private in his room.
— The wardrobe in his room is partially blocking holes he presumably made. This could either mean that he is embarrassed or he’s trying to hide it to avoid getting in trouble.
Overall, it’s clear that Shrimpo’s anger is a lot more than people might have expected
Secondly, the papers. There’s plenty of other toons that also have crumpled paper in their rooms but to me Shrimpo is the most interesting. Shrimpo is definitely not the type who writes, but the note and trash says otherwise. A few things I immediately think of is:
— Shrimpo can write, but everything he writes is always deemed “not good enough” by him and thrown away.
— Shrimpo is either willingly writing things or being forced to write by others (possibly as a required thing by directors and such).
— The note on his desk can tell a lot about him. The fact that he only writes about the things he hates is expected, but the way it continues is more interesting. He repeatedly writes “hate” over and over and it gets bigger. To me, this looks like Shrimpo having a mental breakdown. It’s not uncommon for someone who’s venting out their frustrations to repeat a phrase or word, but the fact that it gets bigger makes me think Shrimpo is writing it more desperately. He could have been writing to relieve stress but it only made him more frustrated, causing a slippery slope into a terrible episode. If this was in writing and not text, I expect his note to be sloppier than it seems.
— Shrimpo’s discarded paper can mean anything, but the thing I immediately think of is ideas or failed writing. Someone in a server I’m in brought up the idea that the reason why Shrimpo has only posters of himself in his room is because he’s reminding himself of all his flaws. Maybe his writing helps him cope with that or he’s trying to come up with ideas of how to be better.
Shrimpo’s room also has many knocked over furniture. He has multiple desks, traffic cones, trash cans, and a coat hanger.
— This supports my theory that Shrimpo is a lot more aggressive in private. He knocks over furniture out of frustration, imagine someone flipping a table because they got upset at something.
— Shrimpo’s room could have been a storage room. It seems to be more bland (could just be Shrimpo not liking decorating) and it has a lot of useless things. Really, the only thing that makes sense for a room is the desk, wardrobe, and bed.
— A confusing thing to me is the airhorns in his room. Shrimpo could be using these or they just came with the room. If he did use them, it would probably be on other toons as a “screw you” signal.
Sorry I talked so much, usually I don’t like doing this but I needed to yap for a good 5 minutes about my favorite toon. I love you Shrimpo!! No one could make me dislike you!! I will make many, many more theories for you. . . .
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rosesnbooks · 6 months ago
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Astrology observations #5🖤
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🌜I wrote these for fun, based on how i see these placements. i'm not a professional! hope you enjoy these🌛
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⭐cancer placements allow themselves to feel their emotions. they may get annoyed by the intensity or the amount of them, but they process them fully, and this makes it easier for them to move on. random thought but writing letters to people they like may be something they do or did as kids haha. they're very romantic
⭐some aries venuses have obsessive tendencies when they have a crush, and they get frustrated a lot if they think they can't/shouldn't pursue them. they enjoy the tension, but they don't want it to last too long because they dislike not being in control, and having feelings for someone leaves them feeling too vulnerable. that's why they try to move on if they can, but it takes work. when they do find someone, they become really clingy but they still need freedom when it suits them
⭐mars in libra avoid conflicts and try to be reasonable about everything, but if they think you crossed a line, you'll see why aries is their sister sign pretty soon. once they tell you off, you'll never see them the same way, so underrestimate them at your cost
⭐having stelliums can be interesting. it for sure puts a lot of emphasis on the influence of that house on your life, and i found that it can be both positive and negative since they face lots of challenges related to their house but also many blessings. those who have stelliums kind of embody multiple characteristics simultaneously
⭐sun in the 11th people glow when they are with their closest friends. they also tend to dream big and care a lot about the world. their friends usually help them in their future goals. they feel a bit different than people in their hometown/country, mostly because they cannot be tied down to a single culture because they enjoy different things, which usually makes them quite open-minded and tolerant. they can be picky about the people they let in super close though
⭐mars in the 6th can procrastinate a lot actually, but they get things done. may get sudden waves of high energy and get things done rapidly and extensively. they expect a lot from themselves regarding their ambitions and aspirations. they try to improve themselves in any way most of the time, but they should also accept their current state if they want to evolve and love themselves. they need to watch out for their moral perfectionism too. it's okay to make mistakes as long as you apologise and strive to change for the better
⭐i've found that virgo mercuries can be really direct, even if they are shy or don't talk much around strangers or acquaintances, they have their moments. super funny too
⭐north node in cancer struggle with accepting their vulnerable side. they hate feeling like things and people can evoke strong emotions in them. they want to be more detached, but those that work on themselves find it very rewarding once they embrace their strong emotions. they can also be really reliable, practical, and thoughtful
⭐fire+water combinations in birth charts-i am sending you a hug. i know exactly how difficult it is to keep all those emotions under check, and that you need a lot of understanding and rest to function. use those emotions and passions well hun, you are strong and capable. you have a lot of empathy and wonder inside of you
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⭐capricorn sun/mercury have a dry way of texting. their humor is difficult to read via text and they simply are not fans of texting, and it shows lol
⭐aries mercuries are not always available online and they may come and go when they're online, but they'll answer all of your messages one by one with lots of enthusiasm. they also like to send memes and joke around a lot
⭐virgo mercuries are not fans of texting and they can answer you after a couple of days or so even if they really like you. similarly to aries, they'll make sure they answer everything and they also pay attention to every detail you mention. very sweet really. their humor shines brighter in person
⭐taurus moon are very capable. they may prefer rest over anything else, but their patience and dedication to the things they need to do is really cool. they are calm most of the time so it's nice to be around them, just don't disrespect them and everyone will thrive
⭐taurus venus men can be really possessive. even if you like such behavior, some can go to extremes and try to control how you feel, think, and behave. they have a specific image of an ideal partner and they want you to fulfill it
⭐libra venus tend to care about how they look and present themselves so they put lots of effort into that. they also have standards when it comes to beauty and some expect others to dress and look well, whether they know them or not
⭐women with venus in aquarius-you may be attracted to men who are mysterious and act like they're special. just be careful because there are so many toxic ones out there who want a relationship but not truly, because they don't want to dedicate themselves to you and maybe plan on using you
⭐pisces moon can feel like they're drowning in their own emotions sometimes because they cannot control them easily and they tend to give in. if they like to portray themselves as a martyr these emotions can get out of hand because they let those emotions lead them which influences their mental health and relationships. those who are developed process these emotions and try to figure them out and let them pass. they can learn a lot about themselves and others this way. creative outlets can be of help to process this
⭐leo moon need to watch out for hurting people when their ego is hurt because they can lash out and make lots of damage. take a second to think whether it's worth it or not, since there is no point in trying to "win" in a fight with someone you love
⭐pisces mars can be too forgiving, especially to those they care about. don't let people walk over you dear, no matter who they are. nobody deserves that kind of treatment
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thank you for reading!🤍i also offer paid astrology readings, so check out my blog for more info
©rosesnbooks
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brucewaynehater101 · 10 months ago
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Time Travel AU: Timothy "Trash" Drake Edition
Tim, to save his family and the world, travels back to when he was a kid. Considering the super powerful shadow organizations that are trying to take over the world (and to prevent his family from becoming targets [or he doesn't trust them. Your pick]), he elects to take on a persona:
Timothy "Trash" Drake.
Instead of the kind, charming, intelligent kid he used to be, Tim methodically mucks up his reputation. He's an asshole, he's self-important, and he's like a typical Gotham Socialite but worse. By 16, he's practically a drunk idiot who's only passing school by the Drake name. He's like Brucie Wayne, but he's hated instead of being a loveable fool.
In the background, he's subtly saved people from their tragic events in the timeline. Drake industries has been booming (try as he might, he couldn't save his parents and became the CEO at 16 as an emancipated minor), and a lot of their funds goes towards better wages and benefits for their employees. Continually, they spend a lot on Gotham infrastructure and social programs. This doesn't match the CEO's arrogant, asshole, and greedy ways. Most assume he's just a figurehead anyway.
The important part to note is that the Waynes hate interacting with him and have a strong dislike for him. They don't know that his demeanor is a persona. Jason, in particular, hates his frivolous, wasteful guts.
Tim has been somewhat successful in mitigating the shadow organization's plans and stopping the world from ending. He's still got a few plans in the works, but he's overall satisfied by what he's accomplished.
Issues start to arise when the Waynes notice contradictions in Timothy Drake's behavior.
Timothy is an asshole who only cares about himself, so why did he give away his coat to someone in need? Sure, he complained that it was of poor quality and not to his standards, but he could've just thrown it away.
Someone else notices that he crashes into the champagne tower when someone was getting harassed at a gala. It was supposedly an accident, but the person was able to get away from the harassment.
Timothy also slapped a homophoic asshole when he kept going on and on about their prejudice. The kid played it off as him being mad at them for stealing his look, but are all of these incidents coincidences?
The final nail in the coffin? Cass goes to her first gala where Tim in in attendance (he has purposefully avoided anywhere she would be). She takes one glance at him, smiles, and then softly says, "Little Brother."
Safe to say everyone promptly looses their shit.
Anyways, I kind of want to see a Trash of the Count's Family AU with Tim Drake
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foldingfittedsheets · 4 months ago
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A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.
When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.
It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.
Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?
Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.
It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.
I stabbed him with his own pencil.
I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)
That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?
The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.
This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”
I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.
By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.
I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.
All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”
“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”
Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.
Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”
My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.
After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.
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tojisfourthbiatchoftheweek · 6 months ago
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early mornings in the fushiguro household
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『••✎••』
toji, from the continuously changing jobs he’s had, is used to a rather fucked-up sleep pattern. he wasn’t the type to sleep from 9 to 6, but rather 2 to 7. he wasn’t insomniac, no no- the sleep always found him- but he was so used to pulling all-nighters in his previous life, that now, he couldn’t go back to sleeping in the early hours of the nights. he was a little night owl, smoking a cigarette at 10, drinking some wine at 11- because, even after his part-time job as a bartender, toji can’t handle such fizzy drinks as champagne or lightweight beer. he’s more of a wine, a rhum, a whiskey or even a strong beer. whatever he can afford. it’s not that he can’t handle alcohol, he just doesn’t enjoy the taste.
after his nightly drink, he’d do some laundry and some dishwashing, squeezing the sponge that’s full of suds, as he had his eyes precisely on the football match he’s been waiting for to start. then, nightly check on megumi- only god knows what the teenager’s doing in such late hours, other than sleeping. but he’s filled with relief as soon as he opens the door, and the loud sound of his snoring reverberating against the walls of his bedroom.
much to his surprise- and delight- since you came in their lives, megumi’s been a better kid. not in behaving, he never was the troublemaker- but megumi is nowadays more open to his dad. he’s much more happy too, not that he necessarily has a smile on his face everyday. but his demeanor is less tense, his expression is relaxed, and no longer carries a very expressive frown, a scowl even. all that thanks to you.
『••✎••』
speaking of, where were you? in your shared bedroom, sleeping with the covers halfway on your shivering body. the night could get quite cold when your lover wasn’t in bed, warming you up with the simple radiations coming from his much stronger, bigger, and imposing body. that’s why, after he checked on megumi, he checks on you- pulling the covers back up, leaving a small kiss on your forehead, as you subconsciously smile. toji wasn’t one to be strong on showing affection, but small gestures like this one made up for it. after the death of his late wife, it was hard for toji to open up. but everything was easier with you. not that he doesn’t struggles with his old ways from time to time- but you’re here.
as the whole neighborhood screams in a mix of rage, laughter, sadness, happiness, toji realizes he missed a goal. and a good one. so he tiptoes back in the living room, sitting on his couch, smirking, as he notices the team he’s bet on has scored a goal. and he bet a whole lot. the lords of football have blessed him.
the night buzzes, with the crowd of people down his complex apartment building all screaming in the pub with each goal- and for the final 10 minutes, you join him, waken up from the constant shouts.
“hey doll. why aren’t ya sleepin’?”
he questions, a visible frown on his face. he doesn’t like it when his pretty baby doesn’t get her beauty sleep.
“nothing, they jus’ keep screaming and ‘s waking me up. so i figured there was a football match tonight, and… wanna watch it with you.”
his eyes widened, but a genuine smile replaced his shocked expression, as he patted the empty spot besides him. it’s not that you hated football, you just were very much oblivious and lost when watching it. so instead of enjoying the game, he’d be explaining to you every move, reminding you of which team you support. not that he disliked it.
soon enough, the match ends, with a whooping 4-1 score from the team toji bet on. it’s euphoria in toji’s head- he’s gonna get money! you and him and megumi are surely going to the restaurant tomorrow night, megumi will get some new shoes or maybe this new game he wants, and you’ll be able to indulge in some shopping, and he… well he’ll spectate. because he already has what he wants. and all he wants is you, and megumi happy.
but the night goes at a fast pace, and before you both realize it, it’s 5 in the morning. but toji doesn’t sleep yet. maybe because it’s his day off,or maybe because he’s too busy admiring you sleeping. the soft, consistent move of your chest, as you breath in and out peacefully. the gentle glow the moon has blessed your pretty face with. the way your breasts are being supported in this tight tank top-
Maybe this is what keeps him awake.
but he doesn’t mind. he doesn’t mind at all. you’re a sight for his sore eyes. a sight he can’t revel in, during the day. but a sight he admires, he adores, during the nights. maybe that’s why it’s already six and you’re stirring up, and the sun is shining in your shared bedroom, and megumi’s preparing his breakfast, and he has not an ounce of sleep in his system. but who cares?
[Pic found on Pinterest, i do not claim credits at all! only the writing is mind 🙂‍↕️]
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manikas-whims · 5 months ago
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hello i love your headcanons and was wondering if you could add sylus in some of your older ones? i was reading the "LADS men react to you dating a toxic partner" (it wasnt the title i forgot sorry) and was wondering how sylus would react. i would love it so much if you could add sylus headcanons to some of your previous ones. thankyou so much, your posts make my day🎀💓
i got you dear ♡ i’ll add Sylus to all my older HCs slowly in various posts I'll try to make throughout the coming week :)
thanks for reading my silly lil HCs ♡ hope you like this!
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Sylus’s reaction to you dating someone who later on mistreats you
🐦‍⬛ He's actually quite surprised when he finds out you're dating because he genuinely believed whatever him and you had going on was far more than just being close associates. So the idea of you seeing someone else kinda shakes him off his game for a while. Luke and Keiran can see it in the way he acts— slightly distracted during serious business meetings and even when a gang war breaks out.
🐦‍⬛ He isn't the type to get jealous but he will openly express his dislike for this person. Now he may not be a saint but it feels insulting to him that you'd rather date someone else when he can give you the world if you so much as ask.
🐦‍⬛ And he will be displeased every time you come up to him for a favor with your work or anything else, saying things like, “Oh, so now you need me? I thought you'd completely cut ties with my kind.”
🐦‍⬛ If this person ever hurts you emotionally or physically, then they better start counting their breaths cause they won't be spared many.
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Sylus may not like this person you're dating but he's decent enough to respect your boundaries. And it would've stayed that way. He wouldn't have involved himself in your personal matters at all until Mephisto, (whom he had still left to watch over you) catches this person yelling at you one evening.
The sight is enough to make Sylus drop whatever work he's been swarmed with.
It doesn't take him long to arrive at the residential area you reside in. He stops his bike and teleports right over to your apartment. In an instant, he's standing between you and this person, the smoky red wisps of his evol holding this person by their neck.
“Is this your type?” Sylus asks, his crimson eyes glowering at this person. “I’m truly disappointed in your taste, Miss Hunter.”
You watch with dread as the fingers of his right hand curl into a fist, his arm poised to throw a punch. And though you appreciate the gesture, you can't let him proceed with this. You have seen him in action enough times to know how strong those fists are. You know that using said fists to hurt someone would only get him in more trouble. And you definitely wouldn't want that because even if you stubbornly refuse to say it out loud, you've grown quite attached to him.
“Sylus stop!” You yell.
As expected, he does not.
But right before his fist can collide with the person's face, Sylus blinks. He can feel the amount of strength you're exerting as you hold onto his arm to keep him in place. To keep him from hurting this person who broke not just your heart but also your trust.
He doesn't glance at you but scoffs. “Even now you defend them. Why?”
“I’m not defending them.” You say. “I just think it's beneath the leader of Onichynus to be wasting time on such people.”
He scoffs again. “You’re not wrong about that, Sweetheart.”
His evol lets go of this person's neck, and he gestures with his chin towards the door. “Get lost.”
They immediately run off.
Seeing that, your own fingers slowly loosen their grip on Sylus’s arm but he grabs hold of your hand before you can completely let go.
“Let’s go for a ride.” He suggests.
And you find yourself smiling for the first time in a while. “Where are we going?”
“Guess.”
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XAVIER, RAFAYEL AND ZAYNE’s VERSIONS [HERE]
» MASTERLIST «
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saintslewis · 7 months ago
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𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒
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- drabble.
pairing: sir lewis hamilton x black! fem reader
summary: reader will never let the paddock forget who Lewis Hamilton is.
warnings: cussing.
saint’s team radio 🪩: this is just a lil something. I was pissed tf off yesterday because of some lewis “fans” and i will never miss an opportunity to let ppl know who my goat is 🫦. enjoy
ps, i’m not adding actual reporter’s names for this so i made up random names.
taglist: @mauvecherie-writes @perfecttrashface @non-stop-imagines @emjayewrites @purplelewlew @hopefulromantic1 @motheroffae @exotic-iris13 @httpsserene @queenshikongo3 @greedyjudge2 @cocobutterqwueen
-
The tag from your denim jacket had been irritating you since the second you put it on but you chose to forget about it, often adjusting it with your nails or a little shimmy of your shoulders.
Holding the mic from Sky Sports F1 wasn’t all too odd for you, the broadcast team only handing it to you when talking about Lewis and his achievements. Your support for the Stevenage driver was strong, often being as labelled as biased but you couldn’t care less. The support was mutual between the two of you, usually lingering on the line of friendship but doubt and time was always against you.
Your sunglasses sat on your braided head with a bored expression on your face, just wanting to get this segment over with so that you could go back to your individual blogging and interviews. Standing patiently in front of the cameras while other reporters ran around unorganised, you played with your beaded ‘44’ bracelet.
“My goodness, Y/n! I have no clue how you are so calm, this is always so hard!” One of them exclaimed, laughing in the process. “Not to mention the outfit! You look like you could go to a party!” Another laughed, her smile faltering when your eyes snapped to her, expression never changing.
After a while, the segment began and off the reporters went on a scripted tangent about other teams before getting to the main topic; Lewis. “Now, onto a different subject, Lewis Hamilton’s performance in that car has been nothing short of a…disaster if I could say.” Jimmy said, deciding to look at you as he spoke. Almost as if he was challenging you.
“For a specific race weekend or overall? His teammate, George is doing significantly better. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, it’s like he doesn’t know how to drive.” Jennifer spoke, poorly making an attempt of a joke.
“I’m not too sure why you’re speaking as if he is a rookie. You lot can see that Mercedes hasn’t been doing well as a collective yet you’re targeting one driver who has brought then 8 constructer titles rather than the other who has one win.” Lifting your mic, you spoke with a clear voice, never stuttering.
Frank shook his head and tried to chuckle. “Look Y/n. We understand he’s your boyfriend or whatever but we need to be factual here. What Ferrari has done is a mistake by signing him. I mean, there needs to be more space for others and he’s taking up space.”
“And Alonso’s dusty ass doesn’t need to leave? Using my support for Lewis to try and justify your dislike for him is unprofessional. I have no clue how you have the gumption to say all this.” You responded, still not moving from your spot.
The other 4 reporters stared at you in shock along with other people stopping in the paddock, surrounding the space just in front of the official f1 hospitality suite.
“There’s no need to use aggressive language, Y/n.” Jennifer lifted her hand to place on your shoulder but you moved away in time. “Aggressive for who?” You challenged, tilting your head.
It had gotten quite. “The viewers. It’s not a lie, Lewis is just not good anymore. He needs to make space.” One of them spoke up but you couldn’t be bothered to listen to anyone else other than Frank, your eyes trained on him.
“What? We need to speak with the producers, having an independent journalist was a mistake.” Frank smirked.
“You can take your opinion and shove it up your ass. Thanks for having me, Sky Sports F1.” You turned to the camera to blow a kiss then you gave the mic you were holding to whoever would catch it.
Walking away from the set, you knew what you did was undeniably unprofessional but those people had always had a vendetta against Lewis and any reporter/journalist who support him. Breathing out, you sashayed your way through the paddock with people staring as your braids glided in the slight breeze.
The buzz of your phone shook you out of your racing mind, a little gasp escaping your mouth as you read the notification from instagram.
lewishamilton no joke, that was the best thing i’ve ever seen. glad we have that interview together in 5 minutes :)
You first looked around the paddock after reading that message but you figured that he watched it live just like everyone else did. Your anger for that segment had clouded your thoughts so much, you forgot about the interview you were supposed to have with the champion.
Rushing to the large luxurious paddock club, you received all types of looks from those who either clearly watched the broadcast live or they’re looking at your outfit, although the latter was made up in your mind.
Luckily, he hadn’t arrived to the designated room you booked to have the interview with him but as soon as you got your phone out to record and your notes, the screams and excitement were heard from outside the door and a smile couldn’t help but sneak on your face.
You have only interviewed him three times in your entire career but every time you did so, he never wanted it to end, always trying to make it longer by asking his own questions to you or just sharing a laugh.
With security opening the door for him, he entered the room and spotted you with a smile on his face. He entered alone in the mercedes shirt already on. No words needed to spoken by either of you, Lewis opening his arms for a hug to greet you. Once in his embrace, you thought it’d be quick but to your surprise, it lasted a few moments longer.
“Hi Y/n.” Lewis spoke, a hand still on your shoulder. You took a quick breath and immediately relaxed on the spot. “Hey Lewis.”
“Your response to Sky was insane but I liked it.” He chuckled, sitting across from you with his legs open and a ring clad hand sat comfortably on his lap.
You didn’t want to show him how the sight affected you especially when your emotions are sky high so you remained calm on the outside. “It’s just…I’m pretty sure I lost my job just now because of how I reacted.” You sighed out, flicking a few braids back.
“Some of them had said worse things so you’re okay.” Lewis responded, his tone wasn’t all too sure but he just wanted to lift your mood. “Yeah but I’m black. They used micro aggressions too.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at everything once recalling back to that moment.
“I heard. I’ll have a word with Sky.” He reassured you. “Oooh okay, Sir.” You joked, masking how the reassurance made your stomach flutter. You’d like to think he was openly flirting with you but you quickly put that thought at the back of your mind.
“I just don’t want those people to forget who you are, you know? I’m sure you hear this all the time. You know what you’re doing and you’re the best at it. I wanna remind the people who the goat is.” You rambled a bit, noticing his smile growing as he listened to you.
“You’re too kind, really. I know what I am, it’s just a little tough right now.” He shrugged as he fully leaned back into his seat. “If you need me to fight anybody in your team, let me know.” You winked, flashing a comical smile that made Lewis laugh.
Giving you a once over, Lewis leaned forward and rested his tatted arms on his knees. “You look good today. You always do but today…phenomenal.” He spoke, his voice noticeably relaxed. “Don’t make me blush, Sir.” You smiled, failing terribly at hiding your feeling.
“That nickname, Y/n,” He chuckled. “Is that door locked?” He asked. All you had to do was nod at the man and Lewis smirked, licking his lips in the process.
“C’mere.”
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saint’s notes 🪩: slightly rushed, george pissed me off, hope you enjoyed. bye. <3
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diariesofthelover · 7 months ago
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A New Regular
synopsis: After his favorite bookstore in Gotham went out of business, Jason had to find a new one that he’d actually like. He decided to check out one a couple blocks down from his apartment in hopes that it’ll be a decent replacement, when he goes in he finds something worth coming back for.
notes: Jason Todd x reader, 3rd person pov, reader works at a bookstore.
Of course Jason’s favorite bookstore went out of business. It was a small store tucked away in one of Gotham’s less populated neighborhoods meaning that they never got enough sales and it didn’t help that their star customer was “dead” for a couple years.
Now he had to go searching for a replacement, god he had a strong dislike for that word, something that’ll at least be adequate enough since he knew that nothing could ever replace his original bookshop. Not with all the memories, the owners who knew him so well, the atmosphere, and that certain smell that brought him back to the last time where he actually felt happy. The place meant more to him than just a bookstore, it was a piece of his childhood that wasn’t tainted by anything, and now it’s gone.
His search began with another small shop that was only a few blocks down from his apartment, convenient. He wasn’t excited about this, no, he didn’t want to be doing this in the first place. His place should’ve never closed, it should still be there running and waiting for him, but it wasn’t which upset him more than he thought it would.
With a slight scowl on his face he made the walk to the unfamiliar bookstore by his apartment. Jason’s hood was up as usual, trying to keep his face away from people on the street for numerous reasons.
After a few minutes he made it to the possible replacement. It was nuzzled in between a cafe and a record store, fitting. It was small, smaller than the rest of the businesses on the block. With uncertainty Jason walked in, a doorbell sounded signaling his entrance. There were only a few other customers in the store, quietly picking out books to escape to, and no workers in sight.
“At least I won’t be bothered,” he thought to himself.
He headed straight for the classics, hoping to stumble upon a work he hasn’t read yet, practically impossible. As he searched through the novels he heard footsteps coming to this section, being who he was Jason was able to pick up on them several seconds before they got to where he was. When the steps came to a stop Jason looked up from the books to see who was near him now, was it curiosity, paranoia, or both?
What he faced was someone who was either an employee or an extreme book enthusiast as she was holding a stack of books that went so far up that her face was hidden behind the literature.
His first thought was to help, that’s the kind of guy he was or at least used to be, but he didn’t do anything as he looked away and went back looking for books to read. He wasn’t interested in meeting new people and talking to strangers anymore, even if they shared the same love for reading as he did. In fact, the idea alone made his stomach churn which is why he minded his business and kept to himself. People were probably better off without him in their lives anyway.
All of a sudden there was a crash as each book fell to the floor, the noise startling him a little.
“Shit,” he heard the girl swear under her breath as she squatted down to pick up the books.
Jason glanced over to her, she had a name tag signaling that she worked there as well as a defeated expression on her face. The longer he stood there not helping, the faster the guilt began to seep in.
God fucking damn it, fine.
Before he could even register what he was doing, Jason squatted down across from her helping her retrieve the dropped books.
“Oh thank you, you really didn’t have to,” she said shyly.
Jason didn’t respond, instead he gave her a slight nod as his way of saying, “no worries”. He was trying his best to avoid any eye contact and keep his eyes locked on the books but he couldn’t help but take a look at her face.
She was beautiful, fuck, so beautiful actually she may as well of come out of one of the novels she dropped. He quickly looked back down again hoping a blush hadn’t formed on his face, he knew that if he spoke now he’d stutter and make a fool out of himself.
She couldn’t help but steal a couple of glances of him as well. Her gaze went from book to him then back to the books then to his perfect face again. Some may have found him to look incredibly intimidating, most actually, and she did but she also thought him to be incredibly handsome. Maybe she’d been reading too much but he looked like he’d be a character from any of those classic romance novels that she loved.
Jason rose as he gathered the remaining novels. She looked up at him from where she was kneeling below him and to her he looked like god. Forget Austen’s novels, he was from a greek myth. His shoulders muscular and broad even under his red hoodie and brown leather jacket, his thighs thick with muscles hidden under the denim, and his height…well he was certainly tall, much taller than she. She had to be mindful of her facial expressions as she gawked at him for far too long.
He tried to make himself look smaller, tried to relax his muscles and hunch over. He didn’t want to intimidate her or scare her off. After being resurrected, his body began to change rapidly. Yes puberty kicked in but the lazarus pit was like an intense steroid resulting in him being huge, an absolute unit.
Sure, he liked how he looked when he was suited up as Red Hood but when he was without his mask and armor, he left like a brute. His size made him feel like some sort of monster. He didn’t want to scare good people away, especially women, but he knew he appeared incredibly intimidating to them all regardless of what he wanted.
And the scars, god that was the worst part for him. His body is scattered with them from all the fighting he’s done and violence he’s endured, his face not left unmarked either. As a kid, he thought they were cool, that it meant that you were strong and a survivor, now it makes him feel weak and reminds him of what has happened to him and what he became as a result. Each scar held a story, not the kinds he wants to be reading about.
All of these thoughts were swirling in Jason’s head as the bookstore worker looked up at him in what he thought was horror and disgust.
To his surprise she stood up with half of the novels in her hands with a sweet smile on her face.
“Thank you again, that was very kind of you,” she softly said still with a smile on her perfect face.
Jason hadn’t been called kind in awhile, it caught him off guard for a moment as a small smile broke out on his face.
“No problem,” was all he chose to say as he handed her the rest of the books.
“Do you need help finding anything? I practically know where everything is, especially in this section,” she let out a small laugh.
“I,” he cleared his throat, “I’m just browsing, thank you,” his deep voice contradicted his shy tone as he turned his back to her before she could see the blush that threatened to paint his structured face.
“Okay, well just let me know you if need anything, I’ll be around,” she said a little awkwardly.
Disappointed, she went over to the shelf behind Jason to do her job.
The two couldn’t help but look over their shoulders to sneak glances at one another, never catching each other in the process.
She only had one more book left to put away, Frankenstein. Of course, it was on the same shelf that Jason was currently browsing through.
“Excuse me, sorry,” she came up behind him to slip the last novel on the shelf. Jason stepped to the side giving her space, his eyes caught on the book in her hand.
She noticed his possible interest and stopped herself from returning it to its place.
“Oh, did you want to see this one?” She had a hopeful expression on her face as she reached the book out for him to take.
Jason read Frankenstein when he was younger but he hadn’t gone back to it since his death, he feared that it would hit too close to home. He didn’t want to relate to the monster, especially as much as he did, he wanted things to be different. He’d oftentimes fantasize about a life where he didn’t get killed or at least a world where Batman avenged him, these fantasies only screwed with his head more. Maybe it was time for him to really look at reality through a fictional lens, maybe it could help him figure some shit out.
Jason accepted her offer, his calloused fingers brushing against hers when he grabbed the book.
“Thank you,” he mumbled as he examined the new cover.
“I really enjoyed that one, it’s actually one of my favorites,” she beamed but got no response from Jason. She quickly grew embarrassed as she felt that he was bothered by her talking and overall presence. In reality, he wanted to hear more. After a couple of seconds of awkward silence, she turned away ready to leave him alone.
“Why’s that?” He suddenly asked causing her to turn back around again, his focus still on the book in his large hands.
Caught off guard she took awhile to respond, “The story, the character, well everything about it really I could go on and on.”
Jason finally looked at her, his cheeks heated but he didn’t care he wanted to talk to her.
“I’m listening.”
The pair went on to discuss the book that they both had a love for. Luckily, the store remained relatively dead and no one intruded on their conversation. Jason was mesmerized by the way she spoke and the way she thought. She was charmed by how good of a listener he was and his own takes.
For the next couple hours they had jumped from book to book, connecting pieces of their personal lives to literature, it was their way of getting to know each other.
He felt silly for ever worrying about finding a place that at least was decent. He ended up finding a treasure, one worth coming back for again and again.
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cheeseceli · 7 months ago
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Reassuring them
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Pairing: Ot8 Skz × Gn!reader (individually)
Genre: headcanons, fluff, reverse comfort (1.6k words)
Request: could you do something sweet where the members are insecure and reader is comforting and reassuring them?
Warnings: mentions of insecurities regarding body image, personality and the idol life; mentions of food in Changbin's.
A/n: because everyone deserves comfort!! Also, this pic of Han 😭😭 | help Gaza
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When you reassure them by...
Bang Chan - simply looking at him
Chan never really liked his features, saying he would change most of his appearance given the opportunity. That's something that never really made sense to you. How could one dislike its appearance when it looked like that? He looked absolutely gorgeous in your point of view, and it pained you that he didn't see it.
Although you said thousands of compliments to him, that's not what made his perception of himself change. It helped, of course, but the most impactful thing you've ever done was to look at him. You looked at him the same all the time: lovestruck.
When he got all dressed up for a photoshoot, when he was sweating after practice, when he was with make up, when he just woke up... You would always look at him like he was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. At first he tried to hide himself from your gaze. He felt shy and unworthy of it in the beginning. But when it didn't work and you kept on admiring him all the same, he started to give in.
Now he likes the way you look at him. Although it still makes him shy, he hopes that you'll keep looking at him like that. And even though he's not totally there just yet, he's starting to see what you see whenever there's a mirror in front of him.
Lee Know - shutting down people's comments
Minho knows most people wouldn't describe him as the most affectionate person to ever exist. Most of the time he'd be okay with that. He needs his space and words of affirmation isn't his better love language. Nothing wrong with that, right?
But when people start to say that he's a bad boyfriend, he wonders how truthful those statements are. And he really wasn't supposed to eavesdrop, but when he hears your friends calling you to question your relationship, he can't help but feel defeated by hearing it. However, he doesn't miss how quick you are to shut down your friend's comments and list times where Minho made you feel loved.
And later on, when you see him, he notices how your eyes shine. There's still this voice on his head accusing him of not doing enough, but he also knows that you don't love him any less because of that.
Maybe, anytime now, he'll realise that he's already doing way more than enough in your eyes.
Changbin - caring for him
At some point in his life, Changbin convinced himself that he needed to be strong. He had to take all the weight of the world in his shoulders and he should do it smiling. That's one of the reasons why he usually keeps his problems to himself: he doesn't want to bother anyone.
But of course, this is not an easy task. Sometimes he fails to do so. And when he does, that's when he feels his world falling down all at once. He feels incapable, useless, nothing. And the words he repeats to himself get harsher every time. That is until you put a stop to it.
He never really allowed anyone to fully take care of him because that would go against his ideal of "I need to be the strongest". But you never asked for permission. You would just do it. And when he finds himself eating the food you cooked him, having his hair brushed by you and the tears being dried by your fingers, he feels like it's okay.
You make his weakness seem like a good thing, and if it keeps going like this, he might as well believe that it's not even a weakness at all.
Hyunjin - saying "I love you"
Every once in a while Hyunjin falls in this dilemma of receiving thousands of "I love you"s but not believing them in the slightest. Did these people on the internet, who have not seen him not once, loved him or the image of him? How much could he believe out of those confessions?
That made him wonder for nights if the real him, the one the internet didn't really know, was also worthy of love. And then he would feel himself falling on this rabbit hole where he was stuck. His questions started to become affirmations that would insist that no, he could never be truly loved.
You'd never hesitate on disagreeing with that though. Not when you knew him better than anyone, probably even more than himself, and still showed love in everything you would do. By the way you hugged him to how you'd text him goodnight every night. Your gifts and your acts. Everything screamed "I love you". Especially when you literally said those three words that Hyunjin desired more than anything.
Little by little Hyunjin felt that his own skin was also good and loveable. He started to glow because of that. That made even more people love him. This time though, he welcomed the affection with open arms. He felt like he deserved it this time.
Han - being there
Self doubt is a funny thing, Han thinks to himself. Once it appears in your life, it's extremely hard to get it out. And even though you know all of your insecurities aren't true, you still don't fully believe it. So when Han starts to think that he is insufferable, that all his friends hate him and that he deserves to be alone, it's hard to stop thinking that.
But then he sees you. And it's like the sun peeking from foggy weather: light at last. You're always there. In his happy moods, when he's sad, when he's screaming nonsense. It doesn't matter what is happening, you're always there. You're the affirmation that, no matter what happens, you'll be there. That he deserves to have someone by him.
He still finds himself distancing himself at times, when the insecurities speak louder. But your presence always reminds him of what's the truth. And sooner or later, the self doubt drowns a bit and he finds himself being more comfortable and confident. He allows himself to have people, to have you, in his life without the fear of abandonment.
Felix - endlessly complimenting him
Insecurities are nothing new to Felix. He has grown used to doubting himself and his actions constantly now. Add that to the infinite amount of hate he receives every day and it's easy to just drown in this endless cycle of self doubt and hatred.
However, he notices that he is now taking it easier with himself. The inner voices that could never stop complaining were slowly but surely stopping. They were being replaced with your sweet and soft spoken compliments.
It was almost second nature to you, he thinks. To just overflow with love and end up reassuring him with your words. He doesn't think you realise it, but it seems that you can always read his mind. You can always tell what he needs to hear. And you always say it as it's the most genuine thing you've ever said.
So when he stops listening to the hate and just hears your voice instead, he knows exactly how it happened. He also knows that, if it's up to you, your praises would be a thing that would follow him for the rest of his life.
Seungmin - taking pictures of him
Seungmin never really liked his smile, he doesn't even know why. It just never felt right for him. And as far as he can remember, he always did everything he could to hide his face whenever his lips would turn up. He thought he was doing it well.
However, he came to realise that he was horrible at hiding his smile. At least he was when it came to you. You had a lot of pictures, maybe up to a hundred, of him. Most of them were blurry and spontaneous. He didn't even know you were taking a picture of him for the majority of the time. Maybe that's why he never covered his smile in the photographs you had of him.
As your wallpaper, as a Polaroid, framed near your bed... There was always a picture where he was smiling carefree. And he looked beautiful in all of those.
You most likely didn't even realise how this little gesture of yours made him like his smile more and more, but you were glad when, after a few months, he stopped putting his hands in front of his mouth whenever a laugh erupted from his lips.
I.N - hyping him up
After living in such a competitive environment for years, Jeongin thinks he should be used to the music industry now. He can tolerate the overworking, he knows how to control the media, he loves his fans and job. Everything is fine. Still, there's always that one part of his mind saying he's incompetent at the job. Saying that becoming an idol was the wrong move.
These days he usually locks himself in the studio or in the dance room and refuses to get out of there until he feels like he deserves it, until he feels like he's good again. But then again, it feels like this time never comes.
That's when you have a vital role in his life. You're the living proof that he's actually doing a good job. And the funny thing is that you have never said it, not even once. But he still knows it. He knows when YouTube recommends you another fancam of him, because apparently you like his dancing and stage presence that much. He knows when you always applause him after a dancing session and when you playfully beg him to sing you a song, and the huge smile on your face when he finally does.
It's almost as if you are his biggest fan. At this point, you might be. And funnily enough, you are the "fan" that is motivating him to keep going. If he managed to make you like his work that much, he must be doing something right after all.
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Masterlist | you'll probably like: when your parents don't like them
Thank you for reading <3
Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143
Credit for images 1 2 and 3
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
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imaginespazzi · 5 months ago
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Part 7: In All My Victories
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Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13
Somebody said you got a new friend (But does she love you better than I can?)
(In which a writer in an EST timezone uses the PST timezone to announce that technically she's still meeting the deadline)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy
Words: 6.5K
TW: Swearing, Toxic Relationships
A/N: Hello my lovelies! Listen it's past midnight here but it's only around 9 pm in California which is where most of this fic is set so TECHNICALLY I am still meeting my deadline. This chapter is kind of a filler (and I guess that's why I don't love it) because it was gonna be about ~3K longer with another scene but it was either a longer chapter or a Monday chapter and I feel like y'all would prefer a Monday chapter. I have not edited this yet because I simply just don't have the energy to so pretty please point out my errors as you read so I can use them when I edit some time tomorrow. There's probably other stuff I need to say but I'm feeling oddly delirious right now so I'll just end with the usual. Let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3
March 2033
Paige wakes up to a stream of sunlight tapping at her eyelids and someone’s soft breath tickling against her nose. She can feel a tiny hand pressed against her chest -right above her heart- and the weight of another person’s fingers intertwined against her own. The room is silent with the exception of the clock ticking on the wall and the perfectly harmonized breathing of the other people in the room. Stephie and Azzi. And Paige is scared to open her eyes, scared to move even an inch, scared that if she does either of those things, her dreamlike reality will prove to be nothing but a hopeless mirage. 
It had taken Paige a moment last night to really register what was happening around her. Dazedly, she had followed Azzi up the stairs into the guest room. She’d watched, albeit unhelpfully, as Azzi had searched out extra pillows, setting up the queen-sized bed so it could fit three people instead of it’s regular duo. It hadn’t sunk in even as Paige had slowly gotten herself ready for bed, finding herself in one of Azzi’s old oversized t-shirts suddenly overwhelmed with how much she’d missed falling asleep embraced in the scent of the younger woman’s favorite lavender and eucalyptus deodorant. Even as she’d made her way back from the bathroom and found Stephie beaming at her from where she was curled into Azzi’s side on bed, Paige still felt like she was simply just watching everything from a facetime call, like she had been while back in Dallas. It wasn’t until Stephie’s bedtime story was finished and the lights were turned off, when Azzi’s hand finally captured hers underneath the comforter and squeezed gently, that it finally clicked for Paige. 
Azzi had asked her to stay over.
Azzi had promised she wouldn’t run away. 
And as Paige finally lets eyes flutter open, blinking to adjust to the light, she breathes out a sigh of relief at the sight of a promise kept. 
Propping herself onto her elbow, she lets herself take in the view of the two people still sound asleep next to her. Paige isn’t a morning person by any means -rarely is she the first person to wake up- but she thinks if this was what she could open her eyes to every time, getting up could become her favorite part of the day. 
It’s uncanny how similar Azzi and Stephie are while sleeping. The little girl’s grip on Paige’s shirt is almost as strong as the tight hold her mother has on Paige’s hand. It’s like they’re trying to reel Paige into their world and keep her there forever, like even if she let go, they wouldn’t let her. There’s an air of contentedness on Azzi’s face as she snuggles closer to her daughter and Stephie has a soft smile at being cocooned in the protection of her mother’s arms. And Paige’s whole body aches a little bit because this bed they’re on is definitely not made for three people, but it’s nothing in comparison to the way her heart feels like it might burst from this feeling of and maybe this is how i become whole again. 
She presses a kiss against Stephie’s forehead and rubs her thumb against the back of Azzi’s hand before carefully detaching herself from the duo and slipping out of bed. The whole house is still clearly asleep as Paige lethargically brushes and then begins to make her way down the stairs. Her eyes gloss over the pictures placed across the stairwell until they fixate on one that has her in it. It’s an image taken after one of many water fights they’d had at the Fudd household during a hot summer day. Life had been so simple back then when it was water and not bullets that they shot at each other. 
Five drenched children are beaming at the camera. Jon and José are posed in some ridiculous stance, their water guns pointed at the camera. Paige, par for the course, is flexing, a far too cocky smirk dancing on her lips because she’d probably won the game (even if nobody else agreed). And then there’s Drew and Azzi. There’s a familiar pang in Paige’s chest as she brushes her fingers over her little brother’s exuberant smile. He’s latched onto the brunette’s back, a blue water balloon in his hand, as Azzi uses one hand on his hip to keep Drew in place and uses her other one to hold a pink water balloon of her own. The Fudds -Azzi- had been as big of a constant in Drew’s life as they had been in Paige’s and she wonders now, as she thinks back to her little brother’s irritation with her joining the Valkyries, if he’d ever forgive her and Azzi for taking that away from him. 
“Oh hey good morning,” Tallulah says as Paige lets herself into the kitchen, blanching slightly at the sight of the other woman. 
“Good morning,” Paige greets, pouring herself a glass of water as she takes a seat at the island, “guessing you’re making pancakes?”
Tallulah nods with a grin, “Stephie’s orders you know.”
“Ah of course,” Paige laughs, “can’t defy the queen.”
She watches as Tallulah prances around the hardwood floor, grabbing bowls and ingredients, like it’s her kitchen and Paige can’t help the twinge of envy that blooms in her bloodstream. It used to be her. She used to know the Fudd’s kitchen -the whole house- like the back of her hand because really, like Katie always said, it was her home too. But she doesn’t quite know this place, couldn’t tell you where to find the sugar or where the utensils were kept and that stings more than she’d expected. It spirals Paige into the thought that she wouldn’t know any of those things at Azzi’s own house either. And suddenly she’s struck by the reminder that two people who’d once promised to build a world together, had spent the last couple of years, building two separate ones instead. 
“Hey,” Tallulah breaks Paige out of her trance, “you good.”
Paige musters up a smile, “yeah- yeah of course. Just- just thinking a lotta things I guess.”
“They’ve all missed you, you know,” Tallulah says softly, “they try not to do it too much around Azzi but it’s always ‘oh Paige would’ve loved this’ or ‘did you catch that bucket Paige made last night’. And whenever the Wings were playing here, it was a no-brainer that they would go.”
“Yeah?” tears prickle against the blonde’s waterline. 
“Yeah,” Tallulah confirms, “Tim lowkey lost his mind before you got here last night. Poor man was running all over the place making sure things were good. Katie thought it was pretty hilarious.”
Paige lets out a watery laugh, “that sounds like them-”
“Miss Buecks,” a tiny voice interrupts her before she can say anything and Paige whirls around to see a teary-eyed Stephie looking at her from the last step of the staircase, her bottom lip trembling and panic courses into Paige’s bloodstream
“Stephie,” she practically trips over herself as she rushes to fold the little girl into her arms, “sweetheart what’s wrong?”
Stephie nestles herself into the blonde’s neck, mumbling something incoherent as she holds Paige impossibly tight. 
“Stephie,” Paige whispers frantically, concern dripping from her voice, “tell Miss Buecks what’s wrong please. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me sweetheart.”
“Thought you left,” Stephie confesses finally, keeping her head burrowed against Paige’s shoulder, “you weren’t next to me when I woke up. Got scared.”
“Oh honey,” Paige whispers, as she gently coaxes the little girl’s head out from the crook of her neck so she can cup her face, “I’m right here. I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
Stephie’s quiet for a second, hiccoughing to herself as she searches for something on Paige’s face before she holds out a pinky, “promise you’ll never leave?” 
Paige hesitates, the words sitting heavy on the tip of her tongue. It’s not that she doesn’t want to but Paige has learned first-hand about the fragility of the future, about how true the cliché about time changing in the blink of an eye can be. Because the truth is that it’s not just Azzi who’s scared. Paige is terrified. She’d drowned in this ocean once before and as she tries to swim in it again, she can’t quite find it in herself to shed her life-jacket by making an oath that she can’t guarantee to protect from the dangerous tides of circumstance.
And so she hopes it’s enough for Stephie as she caresses the little girl’s cheeks and says, “I promise I’ll try to stay.”
“Okay,” Stephie says softly and Paige lets out a sigh of relief, “I trust you Miss Buecks.”
Paige smiles, giving the little girl a kiss on the cheek before hoisting her up onto her lap, “did you wake your Mama up?”
“No. She’s still snoring,” Stephie giggles. 
Paige laughs, tucking that little tidbit away to tease Azzi with later, “how about you and I go get your Mama her favorite coffee?”
“Oh that’s nice,” Tallulah chirps from where she’s still standing in the kitchen, “go get coffee of course. Why would anyone stay here and help me?”
“Go ask uncle José,” Stephie shoots the younger woman an unamused look, “isn’t that what husbands are for?”
Paige stifles a grin as Tallulah narrows her eyes, waving her whisk menacingly at Stephie, “he’s not my husband yet and you watch it missy or maybe I won’t let you be a flower girl at the wedding.”
“Your wedding would be boring without me,” Stephie scoffs, “besides Aunty Tully, we’ll get you a drink too. Uncle José always says you drink vod-ka, too much of it app-ently, but I don’t know what that is,” she turns to Paige who’s gone bright red in attempt to stop herself from keeling over with laughter, “can we get vod-ka for Aunty Tully?”
Paige tries her best to compose herself, “maybe we’ll just get her a latte and save the vodka for later huh Tulls?”
Tallulah glares at her, flipping her off when Stephie’s gaze shifts towards the door, “just go get the coffee Bueckers.”
***
Not that she didn’t know it before, but Paige quickly realizes just how similar Stephie is to her mother while they’re standing in front of the bakery portion of the coffeeshop and it’s been ten minutes and Stephie still hasn’t decided which sweet treat she’d like. 
 “Stephie sweetheart,” Paige says, only slightly impatient, “how about the double fudge brownie?”
“That sounds good,” Stephie says excitedly and then her eyes dart towards the cinnamon bun in the corner, “or maybe the ninnamon bun- no wait- Aunty Tully’s gonna put ninnamon in the pancakes so maybe something else. Ooooh maybe a cookie but which one?”
Paige groans to herself as Stephie busies herself looking at the assortment of freshly baked cookies. The old woman over the counter, wearing a name tag saying Ruthie, shares a commiserating smile with her. 
“My daughter was like that too at that age. Couldn’t make a decision to save her life,” Ruthie says, a fond look in her eyes while talking about her child. 
Paige smiles, “did she ever grow out of it?”
“Well considering we went out to dinner last night and she couldn’t pick between the pepperoni and the sausage, I don’t think they really grow out of it,” Ruthie winks and Paige can’t help but think about Azzi and the way she’d struggled to pick out what to wear to bed last night, staring helplessly between two shirts that practically looked the same. 
“Oh I know that look,” Ruthie says, eyes twinkling at the hopeless smile on Paige’s face, as she tilts her head towards Stephie, “you’re thinking about her mother huh?”
“That obvious?” Paige blushes. 
Ruthie shrugs, “what is love if it can’t be seen by everyone?”
Love. The word seeps into Paige’s veins, traveling up her bloodstreams until it claws its way into her heart, settling against her ribcage like a rock so that when she breathes, it’s all she can feel. It’s too soon, she knows, and it defeats the purpose of going slow except- it’s not soon at all. Because this isn’t a new feeling, it’s a far too familiar old one that she’d buried as deep within her as possible but is now yearning to get out. It had never gone away, simply lingered in the back of her mind just waiting for this moment. And if she’s honest with herself, Paige doesn’t know if she should fight against it or let herself ride the waves of the before that are desperate to crash against the shore of now. 
“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whines, “come help me choose.”
Shooting Ruthie an apologetic look and ignoring the pit in her stomach at the elder woman’s words, Paige walks over and bends down to the little girl’s height, “how about a chocolate chip cookie?”
“Boooooring,” Stephie crinkles her nose. 
“Peanut butter?”
“I’m ‘lergic to nuts Miss Buecks,” Stephie says matter-of-factly and Paige pencils that important fact into her mind’s ever growing list of all about Stephie.
“Salted caramel crunch?” 
“That sounds good,” Stephie nods, “yeah I’ll get that,” she says as she turns to Ruthie, “could I get a salted car-mel crunch cookie please?” but Paige doesn’t miss the wistful look she sends towards the rest of the cookies. 
“Stephie?”
“Yes?”
“Do you want me to get you one of each?”
And she’s absolutely going to get a disapproving glare from Azzi when she shows back up at the Fudd’s with almost a dozen cookies in hand but it’s worth it for the way Stephie immediately latches onto her thigh, a dazzling smile lighting up her whole face. 
“You’re best-est-est-est Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, staring up at Paige with delight. 
“I know,” Paige smirks, “and you better protect me from your Mama when we get back.”
Stephie nods very seriously, “of course Miss Buecks. I’ll protect you with my life.”
Paige ruffles the younger girl's hair before turning to Ruthie who’s grinning at her, “one of every flavor of cookie you have please. Except anything that has nuts.”
“Coming right up,” Ruthie winks at Paige, “your daughter has you wrapped around her little finger huh?”
And maybe Paige should at least attempt to correct the misconception but as Stephie clings to her just a little bit tighter, she can’t find it in herself to say anything but, “yeah, yeah she does.”
***
“Next time you kidnap my daughter, can you at least send me a text?” Azzi says, a grin on her lips as she opens the door to let Paige and Stephie enter back into the Fudd household. 
“Good morning Mama,” Stephie says happily, launching herself into her mother’s arms and placing a sloppy kiss against her cheek. 
“Morning sunshine,” Azzi laughs, “you seem giddy this morning.”
“Miss Buecks bought me six-teen cookies and she let me eat two of them while we were dri-” Stephie pauses mid ramble, eyes widening as she dramatically slaps a hand over her mouth. 
Paige groans as a glare overtakes Azzi’s previously smiling features, “Steph what happened to protecting me?”
“It was an aksy-dent Miss Buecks I’m sorry,” Stephie whimpers, hurriedly cupping her mother’s face, “please don’t be angry at Miss Buecks, Mama. It was my idea.”
Azzi rolls her eyes, “I bet it was. But if you already had two cookies, you must be full? I guess that means no pancakes for you-”
“Miss Buecks forced me to eat the cookies,” Stephie cuts her off and Paige gasps at the betrayal, “not full at all Mama because you can’t get full unless you like what you eat and I didn’t like those cookies at all. So I neeeeeeed pancakes.”
“Traitor,” Paige hisses at the little girl who shrugs sheepishly. 
Stephie shoots her an apologetic smile as Azzi hides a grin against her daughter’s hair, “I’m sorry Miss Buecks but I really, really want pancakes. I’ll die if I don’t get pancakes.”
“Okay drama queen,” Azzi chides fondly as she puts Stephie back on the ground, “go get your pancakes,” and then she rounds onto Paige with a patented glare. 
“I got you an iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream,” Paige says before the younger woman can say anything, practically shoving the cold drink into her hand. 
“Sixteen cookies? Paige seriously?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised as she sips at her coffee. 
“You didn’t see her Az,” Paige defends, “she looked so sad when she couldn’t decide.”
“Just because she looks sad doesn’t mean you buy her every single cookie to make her happy,” Azzi shakes her head exasperatedly. 
“I’d buy her the whole shop if that’s what would make her happy,” Paige says, sincerity weaved throughout every word of the sentence. 
“You would, wouldn’t you?” Azzi says softly, a hint of awe in her voice, “you’re kind of a sap Paige Bueckers.”
“Only for you and your daughter Azzi Fudd,” Paige whispers, leaning her head against the younger woman’s temple, “only for the two of you.”
They stand there like that, barely touching beyond their foreheads, yet basking in a certain kind of intimacy that they’ve only ever found with each other. The thing is, Paige’s senses are always heightened, every part of her always alert of what’s going around her. Except when she’s with Azzi. When she’s with Azzi she can let the noise fade to the background and let everything else become a blur and simply just be with Azzi. When she’s with Azzi, she doesn’t have to worry; doesn’t have to have her sword out ready for battle because she knows the younger girl will always be her shield. When she’s with Azzi, Paige is safe. 
They’re shaken from their reverie by a cough in the background and Paige reluctantly looks over her shoulder to see Jana regarding them with an amused look. 
“Guess I missed a couple of chapters?” 
“Shut up,” Paige grinds out, annoyed as Azzi moves out of her space, “what are you doing here so early El-Alfy?”
“I’m here for breakfast because I’m basically an honorary Fudd,” Jana throws her head back before yelling, “RIGHT KATIE?’
“Right Jana,” comes the muffled confirmation from the kitchen as Jana smirks at Paige. 
“The better question Bueckers,” the Egyptian prods with a smirk, “is what are you doing here so early?”
“I slept ov-” Paige bites her tongue but it’s too late as Jana’s grin gets wider and next to her, Azzi lets her head drop into her hands. 
“You slept over? In which room?” Jana asks innocently. 
And of course Stephie chooses exactly that moment to catch wind of the conversation, yelling from the kitchen, “she slept with me and Mama, Aunty J.”
“Thank you for telling me Stephie,” Jana’s eyes twinkle with mirth as she pulls out her phone, “oh I’m about to make some money- hey!”
Azzi snatches the phone out of her younger teammate’s hand, a sweet smile playing on her lips as she starts walking towards the kitchen, “no phones at breakfast thank you!”
“That’s not fair,” Jana whines sauntering after the GSV shooting guard, Paige snickering as she follows the two of them into the kitchen. 
“Life’s not fair. Deal with it,” Azzi glares before slipping Jana’s phone into her own pocket, “you can have it back before you leave.”
“Y’all are so mean,” Jana sulks, pouting harder when she reaches out to grab a pancake and immediately has her hand whacked by Tim.
“That one’s for Paige,” the older man warns sternly and Paige sticks her tongue out at her teammate as she grabs the pancake onto her place. 
“WHAT?” Jana guffaws, “what’s so special about it?”
Tim shrugs, “absolutely nothing. Just thought it would be funny to see you annoyed.”
“Y’all are the worst adoptive family a player could have you know that?” Jana scolds, pressing her fists to her cheeks like she’s barely older than Stephie, “and to think I was gonna invite the two of you,” she glares at Paige and Azzi, “to a party.”
“Party? Can I come?” Stephie asks excitedly. 
“Unfortunately this one’s just for adults kiddo. And it’s not really a party,” Jana explains, “me and Joyce thought it would be nice to do a little team-bonding, especially for you P. Drinks at the bar next weekend?”
“Sounds good,” Paige confirms, “we’ll be there!”
“Oh it’s ‘we’ now is it?” Jana teases, “you guys gonna come together?”
“No,” Azzi says at the same time as a profound “yes” leaves Paige’s mouth. The two of them stare at each other with questioning looks and Paige feels a heavy pit settling in her stomach. Rationally, she knows Azzi’s probably right. No part of going slow includes going to a party with their teammates together, especially not when they’re trying to keep whatever it is they’re doing on the down low. But there’s something about being a secret again, that raises a bitter taste of what killed us then could kill us now in her mouth. 
“Awkward,” Jon whistles slowly, only to be met with a simultaneous slap on the back of his head from both his mother and Tallulah. 
“I mean- I would have to drop Stephie off here- or umm- at Colleen's so like- logically- practically- uh- it um- it wouldn’t make sense for us to go together,” Azzi says and Paige has to refrain herself from calling it a bullshit explanation. 
Instead she gives the younger girl a tight-lipped nod, “right yeah-wouldn’t make sense for us to go together. Obviously,” gritting her teeth and desperate to change the topic, she turns to Jana, “will the whole team be there?”
“A couple of them aren’t currently in the Bay but yeah most of them,” Jana shrugs. 
“Oh,” Stephie claps excitedly, “will Aunty Chérie be there? Is she back yet?”
Paige narrows her eyes as both Jana and Azzi exchange looks, “who’s Aunty Chérie?”
“Aunty Chérie’s the best,” Stephie gushes, “she’s really nice and pretty and she calls me ‘mon chérie’,” the little girl does her best attempt at a vaguely french accent and realization starts to claw at Paige’s mind, “so I call her Aunty Chérie. She’s Mama’s best friend on the team.”
Paige tries and fails not to grimace at the sentence; the idea of anyone else being Azzi’s best friend feels like nails being screwed into her skin. 
“I’m your Mama’s best friend on the team,” Jana butts in, trying to rescue Azzi from the hole her daughter’s about to dig her into, glancing worriedly between the two former huskies who are doing their best not to look at each other. 
“If you say so Aunty J,” Stephie concedes, “but you didn’t answer my question. Is Aunty Chérie back?”
“Yeah she- um Clémence I mean- is coming back for a little bit next week so um-” Jana swallows, clearly not having thought the uncomfortableness of the situation through, “yeah she’ll uh- she’ll probably be there.”
Stephie lets out a whoop of excitement and Paige feels it burn a hole in her stomach. She knows she has no right to be upset at the idea of Stephie being as enamored by another one of Azzi’s teammates but something about it makes her feel queasy inside. Because Clémence Martens isn’t just a teammate. Paige doesn’t know the exact history there; she’d never had the right to ask about it but she’s seen the way Clémence looks at Azzi and she knows she doesn’t like it one bit.
“I thought Clémence was being traded to Atlanta?” Paige keeps her voice low as she leans into Jana. She’s not sure if Stephie knows the news yet and despite the jealousy that’s blooming in every crevice of her body, she doesn’t want to hurt the little girl by accidentally announcing it to her, “why’s she coming?”
Jana sighs, “Joyce invited her cause she was gonna be in town. You know they don’t know about-” the taller woman gestures between Paige and Azzi, “-all of this so. It’s just for one night Paige.”
“Right,” Paige nods, eyes locking with Azzi’s across the table as the younger woman fidgets with the ‘S’ necklace around her neck and shoots Paige a timid attempt at a reassuring smile, “just one night.”
***
August 2028
USA 68         France 64
The entire arena is abuzz for the final 20 seconds of a grueling semi-final match between the storied USA Women’s Basketball team trying to keep their dynasty alive and a vindictive French team eager to avenge their last heartbreaking Olympic loss. France has possession of the ball, shot clock turned off, and Paige has been tasked with guarding Clémence Martens. The woman in front of her, a bench player for the Golden State Valkyries,  had never seemed like much of a threat to Paige when they’d met during the W season, but seemed to have become a whole other beast when representing her nation. Clémence is currently leading the French team in assists and is only behind Gabby William in points. Paige keeps herself glued to the woman as she tries to get herself free for the inbound. 
The inbounder realizes after a couple of seconds that the French coach’s advice to get Clémence the ball wouldn’t be possible and instead the ball ends up in the hands of Iliana Rupert instead. As gameplay resumes, Paige does exactly as she’s supposed to and she can tell that she’s getting under the French woman’s skin as Clémence curses to herself in her native language. Paige bites back a smirk, secretly pleased at having riled her competitor up. The ball continues to pass around the French players, time ticking away, but the USA’s defense doesn’t allow a good shot until Gabby throws up a miraculous jumper with a second left on the shot clock. 
And of course, in a way that’s perhaps too reminiscent of how France had lost in 2024, it goes in. 
But it’s not enough and Paige feels blood rush to her ears as the entire arena, decked out in red white and blue, roars with triumph, celebrating the world's greatest team returning back to the finals stage. There’s still one more game but this win is special. They’d been down by 11 points at the half and Paige could almost picture the headlines ready to write themselves about the streaks that could be broken if they lost. But she was no stranger to the pressure that came from playing for a team with a deep history and it had been her and Stewie, partially motivated by their former college head coach frowning at them from the sidelines, that had spear-headed a 23-3 run at the beginning of the 3rd quarter. The USA women’s team hadn’t looked back since and now they were one more step away being golden again. 
“You did it,” Olivia screams, running into Paige’s arms as friends and family start to gather on the court, “I’m so proud of you!”
“Thanks Olivia-” Paige is about to say more when the familiar back of someone’s head catches her attention and, like they always seem to when she’s around, all the words die on the tip of her tongue. 
Azzi. 
Paige could’ve sworn she’d seen the woman in the crowd at some point but she’d chalked it up to a trick of the light manipulating her eyes into seeing what her heart desperately wanted. But as she watches the woman she’d once imagined celebrating all of her victories with, slowly brush away the tears of someone else’s loss, Paige can’t help but wish that it had been a trick of the light after all. She feels suffocated and she can’t tell if it’s from how tight Olivia’s holding her or if it’s because Clémence is burying her head into the space between Azzi’s neck and shoulder, a space that Paige used to mark as hers. And then Azzi looks above Clémence’s shoulder. Dark brown eyes shimmer with unshed tears as they lock onto watery sky blue ones. They’re standing in other people’s arms and they really should look away but how can they when looking into each other’s eyes feels a little bit like finally coming up for air. And Paige realizes that what she’s really being suffocated by is the regret of you’re supposed to be holding me and i’m supposed to be holding you; it was meant to be us. 
Azzi lets go of Clémence first, soothingly rubbing the francophone’s back as she makes her way over to congratulate the USA team, starting with Cam and Aliyah. Paige pulls away from Olivia, oblivious to the way annoyance flits across her wife’s features as she catches sight of Azzi. No one but the blonde notices how hesitant Azzi’s steps are, how she carefully pauses a little longer than necessary with everyone else until she finally reaches Paige, managing to give her a small but sincere smile. Olivia wraps a possessive hand around Paige’s bicep and the blonde fights the urge to shake it off when she notices Azzi’s eyes flickering to it for a brief second before coming back up to her face. 
“Congratulations Paige,” the formality in Azzi’s voice feels like acid pelting against Paige’s skin, “you were really good tonight.”
“Thank you,” Paige smiles politely, “it was pretty stressful there for a second but I’m glad we got the dub. But it um-” she hesitates, unsure if she should say the next part, “it would’ve been nice if you were out there with me- with us I mean. We could’ve used your shooting.”
“Maybe next time,” Azzi gives her a half-grin. 
“Oh I don’t know about that,” Olivia says airily, sharp nails digging a little too roughly into Paige’s skin as her grip tightens further, “there’s plenty of talent up and coming in the next 4 years.”
This is a side of Olivia that Paige is only just beginning to unveil, the side of Olivia that makes snide bitchy comments with a saccharine voice. And Paige really should let it go at this moment, make a mental note to speak with her wife about it later instead of jumping in. But she can see the insecurities brimming in Azzi’s eyes and the words tumble out before Paige can stop them. 
“Yeah but no one better than Azzi.”
Olivia stiffens, “right unless she’s injured or pregnant or something. You’re prone to those right?”
“Olivia,” Paige hisses. 
“I didn’t mean it offensively,” Olivia feigns innocence and a bitter mix of irritation and anger coils itself around Paige’s ribcage, “just something to think about.”
Azzi’s quiet for a second before a sugary smile, laced with poison, inches itself onto her face, “I’ve only been pregnant once and I haven’t been injured since college which I would expect someone in sports media to know but,” the brunette’s eyes flash dangerously, “I suppose that’s something someone with national media credentials would know, not just a mere local beat writer for Dallas’s fifth most read newspaper,” Azzi turns to Paige, sarcasm morphing into something far more genuine, “congratulations again. I’m really happy for you Paige.”
***
The Reynolds-Bueckers hotel room is a pathetic hot mess that night. Olivia’s livid at Paige and Paige is livid at the stupid #Clézzi tag on tiktok. She’s no stranger to fan edits and she’s definitely no stranger to ship edits and so when the first tiktok appears on her for you page, she knows better than to click on it. She knows better but she does it anyway. And suddenly she finds herself sucked into montage after montage of so-called moments between Clémence and Azzi that fans had noticed and documented. The clips are bad enough themselves but it’s the captions, bold declarations of look at the way she looks at her; no one can love azzi the way clémence loves her, that really piss her off. Clémence might look at Azzi like she’s made of stars but Paige knows that she looks at Azzi like she is the moon, Paige’s moon. As Olivia’s anger bounces off the walls, her rant about disrespect starts to mesh with the audio of the edits that continue to play on the blonde’s phone and Paige wonders if this her God-designed personal hell. 
“Are you even fucking listening to me Paige?” Olivia yells, forcing Paige to look up at her wife. 
“What do you want me to say Olivia?” Paige asks tiredly. 
“What do I want you to say? Well nothing now Paige. She said all of that shit to me and you were silent then so I’m not expecting you to say anything of meaning now either.”
“You’re the one who poked her first-”
“Jesus fucking christ,” Olivia laughs maniacally, “you’re really gonna do this?”
“I’m not doing anything,” Paige protests. 
“You’re defending her,” Olivia yells, “you’re my wife and you’re defending her. You’re defending your ex. Can you seriously not see what’s wrong with this picture.”
“Olivia,” Paige sighs, eyes gazing down at her phone where another fuckass Clézzi edit has started to play and she rapidly scrolls past it, “it’s been a long day and I just wanna go to bed. I have practice tomorrow and the gold medal game-”
“Right fucking basketball. Again,” Olivia rolls her eyes. 
“What-”
“It’s fine,” Olivia pinches the bridge of her nose, the fight draining from her voice, “you’re right go to bed. I’m not- I’m not feeling great so I’ll sleep out here tonight. Wouldn’t- wouldn’t want you to get sick before the gold medal game.”
“Olivia,” Paige says half-heartedly, taking a timid step towards the woman in front of her.
“It’s fine,” Olivia says, “just- just go to bed Paige.”
Paige knows that the last thing she should do is actually listen to her wife. And she knows that if it was Azzi -she hates herself for even thinking this way- she wouldn’t walk away. If it was Azzi, Paige would’ve pulled her into her arms, held her there and made her talk because they both hated going to bed angry. But well if it was Azzi, this whole situation wouldn’t exist in the first place. 
And so she ends up in bed alone, still scrolling through random tiktoks in an effort to not have to deal with all the voices in her head, until suddenly she stumbles on a video captioned and at the end of the day she’ll still always be looking at her. It’s a video taken today. Paige is holding Olivia and Azzi’s holding Clémence but they’re staring at each other. And Paige thinks that whoever wrote the caption, had probably gotten it right. At the end of day, she’ll always look for Azzi. She just doesn’t know if she’ll find her ever again. 
***
USA 102         Australia 73 
Paige can already taste the feeling of a gold medal around her neck as she takes a seat, the crowd roaring with applause as Coach Lawson empties her bench. There’s only fifteen seconds left in the game and her knees are bouncing in anticipation, ready to celebrate a moment she’s been dreaming of for god knows how long. Paige scans the crowd, not even pretending to look for anyone but Azzi and she can’t help the smile that erupts on her face when she spots the brunette with her fingers crossed, a brilliant grin directed in Paige’s direction as she mouths i’m so proud of you. 
Olivia isn’t here, claiming she was too sick to come tonight. Paige thinks she probably should be more upset about that. She thinks the whole thing is probably a ruse that Olivia had concocted to get Paige to beg her to come, to get Paige to show her that she wanted her wife there. The other woman's face had fallen when Paige hadn’t really reacted to the announcement, simply pressed her lips to her forehead and mumbled a feeble hope you feel better before leaving. Paige thinks this is probably the first sign they're falling apart. She thinks she should probably care about that a little bit more too. 
But the first thing her eyes had landed on once she’d entered the court, was Azzi’s face in the lower bowl and everything else had ceased to exist. Her first petty thought had been a ha! fuck you to the damned Clézzi shippers who claimed Azzi wouldn’t show up today, too busy consoling Clémence. They didn't know Azzi was all-american. Her second thought, the one that felt like a warm blanket being wrapped around her soul, was that of course Azzi’s here. Because Azzi had been there every time Paige achieved a milestone and even if they were barely a shadow of what they used to be, it's only right that Azzi is still here. 
Australia doesn’t even bother taking a shot, bowing out gracefully and the buzzer rings. 
The entire arena bursts into confetti and music as the USA Women’s Basketball Team clinches yet another Olympic Gold Medal. 
Paige doesn’t know who she’s hugging, lost in a sea of red uniforms as she feels herself floating through her teammates. They end up in a huddle, screaming and she can barely make out who’s saying what but it doesn’t matter. The chaos has never felt so fucking cathartic.
As everyone else disperses to find their families, Paige’s eyes land where they always seem to: on Azzi. And maybe she shouldn’t do it, maybe she should think again but fuck it Paige Bueckers is an olympic gold medalist and she’s going to share this moment with the first person she’d ever won a medal for this country with. Her legs move of their own accord, walking and then running and she breathes out a sigh of relief when she realizes that Azzi’s moving towards her too. 
“You did it. Oh my god Paige you did it,” Azzi squeals as they crash into each other in the middle of the court, her arms instinctively going around Paige’s neck as the blonds wraps her hands around Azzi’s waist, “I’m so fucking proud of you. I knew you could do it Paige.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Paige breathes out, “I just- it wouldn’t be the same winning without you.”
Azzi’s eyes soften, “I came for you. I don’t know if I’m allowed to say that but- I’m here for you.”
“Good don't want you to be here for anybody else,” Paige tightens her hold on the younger woman’s waist, “we’re gonna do it together next time okay. You and me, we’re gonna be golden together.”
And they both know that they’re saying words they shouldn’t say. That when they break apart from this moment, they’ll have to walk away. But for now, being in each other’s arms is the only thing that feels right, that feels golden.
309 notes · View notes
lorre-verie · 4 months ago
Text
random Megumi Fushiguro headcanons
꩜ includes: dating headcanons with gn!reader, general headcanons ft. mentions of yuji, nobara, gojo, maki, panda & indirect mention to toji. w/c: 900-1k
written by both lorre and jude, proofread by jude. (❦) is a comment from lorre, (✧) is a comment from jude 
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‧₊˚✩ » he’s clingy. but not clingy clingy, he’s clingy in the way that he always lingers around you, always wants to see your face or just be close to you.
he doesn’t even have to touch you. your presence is more than enough for him.
(❦: awww, basking in his sunlight! his sunlight being his s/o, i mean) (✧: i wouldn’t go that far.) (❦: shhhhh, let them be delusional) (✧: 🤐)
» you know he cares when he asks you if you’ve eaten lunch today, what you ate and if you liked it.
or when he passes you a water bottle without even looking at you during training cause he knows you're thirsty.
or giving you a snack he knows you like from the vending machine without even so much as a word, walking away immediately after. (❦: that’s so cute)
» has a little notebook in his drawer which he fills in little things he’s learned about people he cares about, like their likes and dislikes, or something he's observed.
there’s pages for you, nobara, yuji, maki and...i realise now there are very slim pickings.
there’s even half a page for gojo hidden near the very back.
don’t ask why it’s only half.
» probably wants to do cheesy shit like interlocking your pinkies together while walking, or sharing a milkshake with those curly red straws but feels like throwing up whenever he thinks about mentioning it to you. (✧: you’ll have to be the instigator for this one)
» i’m not even sure what to say about his hair. does he brush it? there’s no way he uses gel to get those spikes right?
they’re so unnatural that there's no chance he does that on purpose. what's up with that nest on his head? does he even know whats going on with his hair??? oh well, doesn't matter. he likes it when he gets to lay down on your lap after a tiring day and you run your fingers through his hair and on his scalp absentmindedly.
he closes his eyes and he feels like he’s achieved true bliss and happiness. 
» if you take your hand away suddenly, he won’t protest.
but his eyes will open ever so slightly, and he’ll just
stare.
why’d you stop??? don’t stop!!!
if after a while you haven’t returned your hand to its rightful place, his bottom lip will just barely jut out.
what? he’s not pouting. don’t be childish.
you hang around itadori too much.
you should spend more time with him instead. 
» he’s protective towards his s/o.
he’ll ask where you’re going and who you’re hanging out with, but he’ll let you go wherever.
but if you’re going somewhere dangerous he’ll come with you.
if you don’t want him to come, take a shikigami with you.
if you don’t want the shikigami to come, well. just be careful.
did you bring everything you needed? an umbrella in case it rains? water? charged your phone?
remember to text him if you need anything.
do you need some cash? take this.
what about pepper spray? or better yet, a hammer?
you have to laugh and stop him from following you straight up to your destination. 
» yeah. he knows he can’t stop you from doing anything you want to, but he just gets antsy. he just doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, especially if you’re going on a tough mission. 
» sensitive to strong smells. i just know it.
I can imagine him turning his head away in silent disgust everytime he smells something thats too strong, good or bad.
even if its the just air freshener in a taxi, food thats been out a bit too long or, get this, "the smell of fresh leather".
he just seems like the kind of guy. (❦: pack it up, sensitive sniffer)
» notices everything, even if he doesn’t mention it.
oh, you’re hungry? he’s already reaching into his backpack and giving you a snack.
hm, you looked at that plushie a little longer than the other ones. oh?? whats it doing on your bed a few days later??
» insanelyyyyy touch starved but will NEVER admit to it (✧: unless you two are dating, but even then)
» thinks the big spoon and small spoon shit is stupid.
why can’t he hug you and you hug him back facing each other??? why do people do that???? do you just hate being happy and seeing your loved one facing you????
» hates cucumbers. need megumi to leave an area? throw a cucumber at him. he says 'they have a smell' and that 'it's horrid'.
» will add like a buttload of ginger in his food and insist that its not spicy and you should try it if you dont believe him. (❦: dont do it just dont)
» emotionally constipated in terms of communication. he’s good at sorting through his own emotions himself, he just has trouble communicating that, but he tries his best. 
» not a headcanon but i hope we can all agree that he is THE nepo baby
» looks up to maki a whole bunch
» swore to never smoke ever
» isn’t judgemental, but thats just because he doesn’t gaf
» the reason he doesn’t feel comfortable using playful cloud is because he gets this feeling he can only describe as weird whenever he holds it, making his hairs stand on end.
its almost as if he has this connection to it, but it freaks him out.  gojo noticed, but kept silent. 
» pretends his music taste isn’t mainstream but it totally is. but not summery pop mainstream, more like alternative ‘what do YOU know about donald glover/kendrick lamar/tyler the creator’ mainstream
» really liked pandas as a kid but after being enrolled in tokyo jujutsu high he felt somewhat....conflicted.
» changed his favourite animal to wolves soon after.
» he totally has a type! he just didn’t want to tell todo.
OR alternatively, after the fight with todo he thought about it a bit more, and realised he does have a type, but will take that to his grave
(or so he thinks to himself before yuji eventually milks it out of him)
» really patient when a situation needs him to be. he’s very strong mentally because he's needed to be since he was a kid.
» prefers non-fiction books over fiction books. tried to read fiction books but they just didn’t interest him all that much. but, if his s/o liked fiction books…then perhaps he'd consider some.
» had like 6 people confess to him in one year in his previous school but he was weirded out and rejected them over text
» he's a visual learner but its mainly because if someone's telling him something he has a tendency to just space out and not listen or be able to process half of what they said. but sometimes he just does it on purpose LMAO
» He HAS to sleep at least 8 hours. He will not have it if he has to sleep less. Gets extremely irked, but will not say a thing if there's a good enough reason that he has to stay up/wake up early.
» has to fight back a smug smirk whenever nobara mentions his naturally long eyelashes
(❦: its not fair! advocate for equity in genetics!!!!)
(✧: it's definitely not a smile nor smirk, but saying ‘smug corner-of-his-lips-twitches-up-for-0.1-seconds’ doesn't really roll off the tongue)
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feels so good to be writing again, you could not believe. these are so incredibly random LMAO but thanks for reading till the end <3 much love, lorre.
© lorre-verie on tumblr. do not translate, modify or plagiarise my works, nor repost it to other sites.
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goldenchocobo · 7 months ago
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Here’s what I’ve been working on, it’s taken a month, but I’ve finally completed it!
All 13 14 Organization XIII members with flowers!
I did reuse some flowers; but I’ve been wanting to redraw those portraits for a while now, so I can cross that off the list too
Under the KEEP READING are the flowers included, along with why I chose them for that Organization Member.
- You've clicked the 'Keep Reading', so you're in for the long-haul; 14 flower analyses in one! Better get snug!
I. Anemone flowers (also called wind flowers) have a lot of meanings, more negative than good ones; the ones I singled out for Xemnas was death and loss. Flower meanings require a lot of context- like sentences, so in this instance, I’ve used ‘loss’ to mean ‘loss’ in a general sense- Xemnas lost his heart, his comrades, his emotions; and by the end of KHIII; even his motivation; saying he doesn’t really care for his comrades’ demises, and that after he’s gained any kind of sensation back; it’s regret.
II. Knowing Xigbar is keeping all kinds of secrets, and knowing them is his business, Snapdragons are perfect. White and purple denote the spiritual and mystic. Them covering his mouth means that he knows something you don't, and he won't tell you anything.
III. We don’t know much about Xaldin- or Dilan. But with how I interpret him and his actions; he’s someone who has been scorned before- or at least has a lot of jealous dislike towards relationships and is sickened by how love makes people act. Hydrangeas are a flower both used for some wedding bouquets, as well as denoting jealousy, especially in their purple-blue colouration, as it's higher pH that causes the flowers to be that colour.
IV. Azeleas are flowers of two halves. They can mean Temperance and intelligence, but also temptation and caution. This is why I thought it was perfect for Vexen. Not only does he give into the temptation of his (immoral) research- more than once, but also ignored the dangers of it. When he's recompleted, we can see that he's gotten rid of these temptations (or at least I hope so). I made them orange to deeper the 'danger' and 'caution' theme as orange is a colour in nature that denotes it- like toxic amphibians and insects.
V. Lexaeus is a quiet man; so I don't really know much about him other than that he's strong and wants to protect Ienzo/Zexion; as such gladiolus- a symbol of such strength and protection is perfect for him.
VI. Zexion is interesting because I kind of see him as a tragic two-sided character. His scheming, 'throwing morals out the window and toying with people' Zexion in CoM side, and his more naïve, innocent and caring Ienzo side we see in KH3. I gave him Begonias for this reason; the purple in one hand representing mystique and curiosity, whilst white being for a more innocent side to him. I specifically chose Begonia pavonina leaves because they look weird and mystic and kind of match his shimmering hair.
VII. I've already used yellow roses for Siax/Isa, in the same configuration as well; and the meaning remains the same. Yellow roses can sometimes mean jealousy- especially towards friendships. Siax got too into his head about Axel making friends. That was when his jealousy took over, and he was lead by it.
VIII. Axel has had Alestromeas before- as they usually mean strong bonds of friendship; something Axel and Lea has shown over and over again. Like with Siax, I chose to make them a crown to show that, that friendship and keeping those friends safe is what drives him.
IX. It was kind of hard to come up with a flower for Demyx. originally I had him with Geraniums as they can represent folly; but instead, I went with Daisies; with the adage, 'Lazy Daisy'- for obvious reasons. Daisies- or asters- come in a large variety and specie. For Demyx, I chose two for aesthetic purposes; common daisy for around his head, and leucanthemum daisy for his neck- for their size.
X. Finding the right flower for Luxord was difficult. I did originally just have him with clovers, but felt that they didn’t suit. I chose poppies instead, as while they’re known for being symbolic of war & peace, fallen soldiers and death, there’s an under-current of time meaning; time being passed while we sleep, the time we remember the departed, and time marching on until the grave.
XI. For the longest time, Marluxia was going to have roses- it’s his whole motif; there’s rose iconography everywhere. But I chose Magnolias due to their symbolism of remembrance. While not fully aware until the very end, Marluxia was always searching for his sister, not believing that she had gone. The yellow Magnolias represent the joys he shared with her, whilst the purple imply the dignity of being a Union Leader, and Lord of Castle Oblivion.
XII. Marigolds are pretty, but their meaning is not... sometimes. Out of their meanings, I've chosen their meaning for Larxene to be one of cruelty and coldness. Because that's what she is to everyone.
XIII. Roxas keep his Dahlias from his original flower piece. The meaning remains the same; That- even in the face of hardship and despair, he will remain kind, friendly and cheerful.
XIV. I was going to reuse the obvious choice of Forget-Me-Nots for Xion; but honestly, I felt intimidated by how small they are, and- if you've paid attention, kept a strict number limit on my flowers; so that wasn't doable. Instead, I chose a Cornflower, which has a similar meaning of not being forgotten, as well as hope, devotion and love.
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The stones inlayed in the frames have no real significance other than that they match the character's colour scheme; Here's what each stone is: Xemnas: Pearl Xigbar: Smokey Quartz Xaldin: Amethyst Vexen: Emerald Lexaeus: (orange) Agate Zexion: Lepidolite Siax: Moonstone Axel: Sunstone Demyx: Sapphire Luxord: Hematite Marluxia: Rose Quartz Larxene: Topaz Roxas: Snowflake Obsidian Xion: Obsidian
OK- I lied a little; there's some theming between characters, but nothing majorly deep; I haven't really looked into gemstones and their meanings.
If you've read this much, congratulations! Flower Count: Xemnas has 13. Xigbar has 3. Xaldin has 1. Vexen has 7. Lexaeus has 5. Zexion has 13. Siax has 7. Axel has 7 Demyx has 20 (13 common, 7 leucanthemum). Luxord has 7. Marluxia has 5. Larxene has 5. Roxas has 7. Xion has 13.
The only outlier is Xaldin; but Hydrangeas are hard to draw and only had the motivation to draw one.
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