#I hate this game [plays it all the way through again]

[4vanaa]

WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING, rafe cameron, 20

summary: y/n left the outer banks years ago, determined to build a life far from the memories of her childhood love, rafe cameron. now a botanist, she's moved on-though a quiet part of her still clings to the past. when an event brings her back to OBX, she's forced to confront the one person she never truly forgot.

cw: none | masterlist | 19 | 21 |

The group was buzzing, the energy in the club electric after the wedding rehearsal. Everyone had fallen into their own rhythm—JJ and Cleo tearing it up on the dance floor, Topper and Kelce playing some obnoxious drinking game, and Sarah holding court with John B by one of the lounge booths.

You stood by the bar, waiting for your drink, the crowd shifting and pulsing around you. The sleek black dress you wore fit like a second skin, the neckline daring, the slit high enough to turn heads. Your hair fell in soft waves over your shoulders, catching the soft glow of the club’s neon lights.

You weren’t trying to get attention, but you weren’t blind to the effect you had—least of all on him. You felt it before you saw it, that familiar, heavy stare. Your skin prickled as you glanced sideways, catching Rafe standing a few feet away. He leaned casually against the bar, his sharp jaw illuminated by the amber glow of a nearby light.

His drink hung lazily in his hand, but his piercing gaze was anything but casual, trailing over you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” you said, your voice low but cutting as you turned to him fully.

Rafe didn’t flinch. If anything, his smirk deepened. He pushed off the bar slightly, stepping closer, his towering frame making the space between you feel even smaller.

“Why not?” His blue eyes flickered down to your lips for just a moment before meeting yours again. “I like looking at you.”

You faltered, swallowing thickly under his gaze. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I really don’t.”

He shrugged, though his smirk gave him away.

“Just noticing you, Sunshine. Can’t help it when you look like that.”

His eyes flicked down, slow and deliberate, taking you in. Your lips parted, your breath hitching slightly. You recovered quickly, crossing your arms in front of your chest, your lips curving into a faint, teasing smile.

“Careful, Cameron,” you said, leaning slightly closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“You’re starting to sound a little obsessed.”

Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes.

“Oh, I passed a little a long time ago.”

Your cheeks heated, but you refused to let him see you squirm. Instead, you tilted your head, your gaze locking onto his like a challenge.

“You know my boyfriend’s right over there, right?”

Rafe’s smirk twitched, and you could see his jaw tighten just slightly. “Yeah,” he said, his voice lower now, quieter. “Doesn’t change anything.”

Your heart stuttered, and you hated the way it did. Hated the way his voice still had this effect on you, the way he seemed to see right through you.

“Rafe,” you warned, your voice soft but firm.

“What?” he asked, leaning in just enough that you could smell the faint mix of his cologne and whiskey.

“Am I not allowed to notice how good you look? You’re impossible not to look at, Y/N. Impossible to ignore.”

Your breath hitched again, and you couldn’t stop the slight flutter in you chest, no matter how much you tried. You leaned back slightly, your fingers curling around the bar for support.

“You should try harder.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Believe me, I’ve tried.” Something about the way he said it—low, honest, like a confession—made your chest tighten.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I came here to apologize, not... this.”

“For what?” His voice softened, his smirk fading.

“For what I said to you at the chateau,” you admitted, fidgeting with your drink straw. “I didn’t mean it, not all of it. I was angry.”

“It’s fine,” he murmured, leaning closer, his voice low and deliberate. “You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel how I feel.”

“You were right, though. I haven’t done much to prove you wrong.”

You sighed. “Still. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

There was a pause, heavy with unspoken words.

“Y/N,” he murmured, stepping closer, “do you ever think about—”

You cut him off, stepping back. “Rafe, stop.”

But he didn’t. “What if you just let yourself—”

“Rafe.” Your tone was firmer this time, but the way your cheeks flushed betrayed you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, your tone lighter again, teasing even.

“And you’re beautiful,” he shot back without hesitation, his voice soft but firm, like he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Before you could respond, the bartender slid your drink in front of you, breaking the moment. You grabbed it quickly, needing the excuse to pull away.

“Look,” you said quietly. “I don’t want this to be weird during the wedding. Sarah’s my friend, and—”

“I’ll behave,” Rafe cut you off, his smirk returning. “Scout’s honor.”

“Good,” you replied, stepping back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Enjoy the rest of your night, Cameron,” you said lightly, your tone airy as if you weren’t fighting the heat rising to your cheeks.

Your turned on your heel, walking back toward Noah. You felt Rafe’s eyes burning into you as you moved.

When you reached Noah, you didn’t hesitate. “Hey, babe,” you said, your voice soft and warm as you slid an arm around his waist.

He turned to you, his face lighting up instantly. “Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”

“Perfect,” you murmured before standing on your toes and pulling him into a slow, deliberate kiss.

Noah blinked in surprise but quickly melted into it, his hand resting lightly on your lower back. When you pulled away, you smiled up at him, your gaze warm and steady.

Rafe watched from the bar, his drink untouched in his hand, his jaw tight. The knot in his chest grew tighter, the sharp sting of jealousy and longing intertwining in a way that made him dizzy.

You caught his eye over Noah’s shoulder as you walked past, your expression unreadable but deliberate.

It was a silent message, and it hit its mark.

Rafe’s grip on his glass tightened as he downed the rest of his drink in one go, the burn doing nothing to dull the ache.

🏷️: @xoxo-ada @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @sleepiibunniiii @urbrunettebombshell @sideboobrry11 @acidfeens @marleymarleymarleymarley @hadids-world @ursogorgeous13 @louxmcl @cyberkitty1 @pogueprincesa @drewrry @the-oracle-at-delphinitely-not

a/n: i was very inspired by this edit. GO BIRDS 🦅 🦅

[marsdql]

yandere!jay headcanons!

Yandere!Jay who will pepper you with love—gentle kisses all over your face, soft whispers about how much he adores you, arms wrapped around you so tight it’s almost suffocating. He treats you like you’re the most precious thing in the world, like he can’t believe you’re his. “I love you so much, you know that? You’re my everything.” But the second he finds out you went out without telling him? That sweetness fades instantly. His jaw tightens, his smile drops, and his eyes darken. “Oh? You thought that was okay?” His voice is eerily calm, but the tension in the air is suffocating.

Yandere!Jay who suddenly gets cold and distant, leaving you to sit in uncomfortable silence as he processes the fact that you dared to go somewhere without his permission. His usual affectionate nature disappears, replaced by something much more dangerous.

Yandere!Jay who grabs your wrist just a little too tight, pulling you closer so you can see the sharp glint in his eyes. “Tell me, sweetheart. Who were you with?” He asks, his tone dripping with fake sweetness. The way he tilts his head would be charming—if it weren’t for the jealousy radiating off him.

Yandere!Jay who plays mind games, making you feel guilty for ‘hurting him.�� He sighs dramatically, running a hand through his hair as if he’s deeply wounded by your actions. “I just worry about you, you know? What if something happened? What if someone tried to take you from me?”

Yandere!Jay who won’t let this slide easily. If you don’t apologize properly, expect him to ignore you, leaving you desperate for his warmth again. And once you do apologize? He pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Just don’t do it again, okay? I don’t like being mad at you.” But the warning in his voice is crystal clear—he won’t be so forgiving next time.

Yandere!Jay who spoils you like a princess—buying you expensive gifts, cooking your favorite food, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear while he holds you close. He loves seeing you happy… but only when it’s because of him.

Yandere!Jay who completely switches up the moment he finds out you went out without telling him. His fingers tighten around his phone as he reads your text. "Oh, so you went out?" His jaw clenches, and suddenly, his whole mood darkens.

Yandere!Jay who calls you immediately—his voice is eerily calm, but you can feel the tension through the phone. “Where are you? Who are you with?” His usual sweet tone is gone, replaced with something much colder.

Yandere!Jay who doesn’t believe your excuses. “You forgot to tell me? That’s cute. Try again.” His chuckle is low and humorless. He’s pissed, but he’s not going to explode just yet. No, he wants to see you squirm first.

Yandere!Jay who tells you to come home immediately. He doesn’t care if you’re in the middle of something—he wants you back where you belong. And if you take too long? Expect him to come get you himself.

Yandere!Jay who waits for you at the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The moment you step inside, he grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You must really enjoy testing me, huh?” His voice is low, his fingers just barely digging into your skin.

Yandere!Jay who suddenly pulls you into a suffocating hug—but it’s not comforting. It’s possessive. His lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “Do you have any idea how much I hate being away from you? How much it kills me when I don’t know where you are?”

Yandere!Jay who makes sure you learn your lesson. Maybe it’s keeping you trapped in his arms for hours, refusing to let go. Maybe it’s taking away your phone for the night so you “won’t be distracted.” Or maybe… it’s a quiet, lingering punishment. He won’t kiss you, won’t touch you—he’ll make you beg for his affection again.

Yandere!Jay who eventually forgives you—but not without a warning. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “You’re mine. You know that, right?” His lips ghost over yours before he finally kisses you, slow and deep, reminding you exactly who you belong to.

Yandere!Jay who smirks when you nod, pleased that you understand. “Good girl. Don’t make me do this again.” His tone is playful, but you know better. It’s not a request—it’s a threat wrapped in sugar.

[ @teddybeartaetae]

[lunaswicked]

Sweet Talk

Paring: College!Jimmy Uso x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: Two roommates— You and Jimmy—find yourselves caught in a whirlwind of tension, desire, and unspoken feelings. What begins as teasing and frustration between you evolves into a night of unexpected intimacy that blurs the lines between hate and attraction.

Tags: enemies to smutville😫, roommates, 18+, p in v, teasing, dirty talking, 9 incher jimmy uso, dickstressing, AND WHATEVER ELSE, ENJOY😋

You and Jimmy rarely saw eye to eye. It wasn’t that you outright despised each other, but the two of you had a way of constantly butting heads over the smallest things. Maybe it was because you were both stubborn, or maybe it was because neither of you ever backed down from an argument. Either way, there was always a tension between you—one that never seemed to fade no matter how much time passed.  

Both of you were college students, navigating your own paths, yet your lifestyles couldn’t have been more different. You poured yourself into your studies, determined to excel in every class, while Jimmy had an almost single-minded obsession with football—both playing it and watching it. If he wasn’t on the field, he was glued to the screen, yelling at players who couldn’t hear him or analyzing plays with the kind of intensity most people reserved for final exams.  

When he wasn’t fixated on football, he’d be locked in his room, spending hours on whatever video game he and his twin brother, Jey, were obsessed with that month. It was almost impossible to get a word in when he was deep in competition mode, his focus unwavering as he trash-talked through his headset. Sometimes, it felt like college itself was just a background noise in his life, something he did because he had to—not because he cared.  

But despite all of that, you knew Jimmy was smart. In fact, he was one of the smartest people you knew, even if he didn’t always act like it. He had a sharp mind, a quick wit, and an ability to break things down in a way that made even the most complicated subjects seem simple. The problem was, hardly anyone ever got to see that side of him. He didn’t apply himself the way he could have, and more often than not, he played the role of the carefree guy who only lived for football and video games.  

"I'm not going. I got lab tomorrow," you said into your phone, shifting against the pillows as you tucked yourself deeper into bed.  

Bianca groaned dramatically on the other end. "Girl, you always busy! Every time I call, it's the same thing—lab this, assignment that. And don’t even get me started on how you be stuck in that house with Jimmy all the damn time."  

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn’t see you. "First of all, I am not stuck with Jimmy. We just happen to live in the same space. Not like I have a choice."  

"Uh-huh, sure. And yet, every time I ask you to come out, you got an excuse, and he's always somewhere in the background, being annoying," Bianca shot back. "One day, imma just pull up and kidnap you, no warning."  

You laughed, shaking your head. "And do what? Drag me out in my pajamas? Not happening."  

"Don’t test me. I’ll snatch you right up, bonnet and all," she teased. "Seriously, though. You need a break. When’s the last time you had fun? Like, actual fun. Not school, not arguing with Jimmy—fun."  

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. It had been a while since you let loose, but between school, deadlines, and dealing with Jimmy’s daily antics, going out just felt like another task on your already overflowing to-do list.  

"Exactly," Bianca said, as if she could hear your thoughts through the phone. "Look, just think about it. Even geniuses like you need a night off."  

You sighed, glancing toward your closed bedroom door, where you could still faintly hear Jimmy and Jey shouting at their game. "I’ll think about it."  

"That’s what you said last time," Bianca huffed. "I ain't falling for it again. You better show up, or I will come get you."  

You smiled, shaking your head. "We’ll see, B. We’ll see."  

She let out an exaggerated groan but didn’t push it further. "Fine, but don’t think I’m letting this go. I’ll call you tomorrow, and you better give me a yes."  

"Goodnight, Bianca," you said, smirking.  

"Mmhm, whatever. Goodnight, miss I got lab."  

You hung up, staring at the ceiling with a small smile. Maybe she had a point.

Your stomach let out an impatient grumble, loud enough to make you sigh in frustration. You hadn’t eaten in hours, and at this point, there was only one thing that could fix it—a slice of your favorite vanilla cake with extra whipped cream. The thought alone was enough to get you out of bed, pushing aside your tiredness as you made your way down the hall toward the kitchen.

The house was quieter than usual, with only the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant noise of the TV from the living room. Normally, Jimmy would be in there, glued to whatever game had his attention for the night, but the lack of his usual shouting made you pause. Maybe he had finally gone to bed for once? That would be a miracle.

But as soon as you stepped into the kitchen, that hope vanished.

Standing by the open fridge, fork in hand, was Jimmy—mid-bite, chewing your cake like he didn’t have a single care in the world. Wearing a fitted black shirt with yellow shorts that showed too much thigh.

You stopped dead in your tracks, your brain needing an extra second to process the sheer disrespect of what you were witnessing.

"You gotta to be fucking wit' me," you said, your voice flat.

Jimmy turned his head slowly, fork still in his mouth, his expression completely unbothered. He raised an eyebrow as he chewed, finally swallowing before answering. "What?"

Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you stared him down. "That was my cake, Jimmy."

He had the nerve to glance down at the plate in his hand, then back up at you with a smirk. "You sure about that?"

You let out an exasperated breath, stepping closer. "Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about that cake all damn day. It was the last slice!"

Jimmy shrugged, taking another slow, deliberate bite, as if to rub it in. "Was the last slice. Past tense."

Your jaw dropped. "You are actually the worst person I know."

He chuckled, licking a bit of whipped cream off his fork. "Damn. All this over some cake?"

You threw up your hands. "Jimmy, I needed that cake."

"You needed it?" he repeated, clearly amused. "You make it sound like life or death."

"It is!" you shot back. "I’ve had a long day, and all I wanted was to sit down, enjoy my damn cake, and go to bed happy. But noooo, because somebody just had to be greedy."

Jimmy leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking entirely too entertained. "Sounds like a you problem. You shoulda got here faster or sum."

"Or you could’ve just not eaten something that wasn’t yours," you snapped.

He shrugged again. "You ain't put yo name on it."

Your eye twitched. "We don’t do that in this house, Jimmy. Because normal people have respect."

Jimmy let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes as he scooped up a piece of cake with his fork. Slowly, deliberately, he strolled toward you, a smug smirk playing on his lips.  

“Here,” he said, holding the fork out in front of you, the fluffy vanilla cake and whipped cream practically taunting you. “You wanna bite?”  

Your arms folded over your chest, and you scoffed, giving him a sharp glare. “I’d rather die before I eat off of you,” you shot back, your voice dripping with defiance.  

Jimmy chuckled, tilting his head as he took another step closer. “Dramatic much?” he teased.  

You held your ground, eyes locked onto his, but the way he was staring at you—intense, playful, like he was daring you—sent a strange shiver down your spine. 

He took another step, closing the space between you, his free hand lazily slipping into the pocket of his shorts. He was close now, too close. You could smell the faint mix of his cologne and the sweet vanilla lingering on his breath.  

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, voice low, taunting. “Scared you’ll like it?”  

Your stomach tightened, but you forced yourself to scoff again, turning your head to the side. “Please, as if.”  

Jimmy let out a soft chuckle, lifting the fork slightly. “Then prove it.”  

You swallowed, glancing at the fork, then back at him. His eyes held something unreadable—dark amusement, challenge. You could feel your own stubbornness warring with the stupid, undeniable craving in your stomach.  

Your eyes flicked back to the cake, the whipped cream looking way too good to pass up.  

He smirked, sensing your hesitation. “C’mon, I ain't got all night,” he murmured, voice smooth, teasing.  

You clenched your jaw, irritation flaring, but your hunger was stronger than your pride. Damn it.  

With an exasperated sigh, you snatched his wrist, steadying his hand as you leaned in. You hesitated for half a second before finally parting your lips and taking the bite off the fork, your tongue barely brushing against the metal.  

Jimmy stilled.  

Your eyes flicked up to his as you pulled away, chewing slowly, the sweet vanilla and cream melting on your tongue.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke.  

His expression darkened just slightly, his smirk fading into something slower, heavier. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he stared at you, watching the way your lips closed around the fork before you finally pulled back.  

Something about the look in his eyes sent a heat crawling up your neck, your stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the cake.  

You swallowed, shifting on your feet. “Happy now?” you muttered.  

Jimmy’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. He tilted his head, his voice dropping an octave.  

“Could’ve just said you wanted a taste,” he murmured.  

Your breath hitched, but you quickly covered it with an eye roll, shoving his wrist away as you stepped back.  

“Shut up, Jimmy.”  

He let out a low chuckle, his smirk never fading as he twirled the fork between his fingers. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark amusement mixed with something else—something heavier, something that made your pulse tick faster than it should have.  

"You act like you hate me," he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer, his body heat now palpable. "But here you go, eatin' off my fork."  

Your throat felt dry, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. "I was starving, Jimmy. Don’t flatter yourself."  

He tilted his head slightly, eyes flickering between your lips and your gaze, his smirk deepening. "Mmm, nah. I think you just wanted to see what I taste like."  

Your breath caught, heart slamming against your ribs.  

"You are so full of yourself," you muttered, stepping back, but you barely moved an inch before he closed the gap again, this time with purpose.  

The air shifted—suffocating, electric. You could hear the faint drip of the kitchen sink, the hum of the refrigerator, but it all faded beneath the way Jimmy was watching you. Like he had all the time in the world to unravel you piece by piece.  

"You sure about that?" he murmured, voice low, velvety smooth.  

His free hand brushed against your hip—not fully touching, just ghosting over the fabric of your shorts, enough to send a shiver through you.  

You should have stepped away. Should have said something cutting, something to kill whatever this was. But your body wasn’t listening.  

Jimmy noticed.  

His smirk flickered into something darker, his fingers grazing up your waist, featherlight, testing, waiting for you to stop him.  

You didn’t.  

A slow, knowing hum left his lips. “Thought so,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower.  

Your breath came a little quicker, your skin tingling beneath his touch. Your body was betraying you, leaning into the heat of him.

His fingers finally landed on your chin, tilting it up slightly, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were unreadable—dangerous, teasing, but there was something else simmering beneath them. Something that sent your stomach twisting in the worst, best way.  

"You wanna taste somethin' sweet?" he murmured, his thumb barely brushing over your bottom lip. "I can give you more than just cake."  

Your breath hitched, fingers tightening at your sides.  

You just stood there. Frozen. Trapped under his gaze.  

Jimmy leaned in, slow enough for you to stop him, to push him away, but you didn’t. The warmth of his breath ghosted over your lips, his presence consuming every inch of space between you.  

Every nerve was alight, your breath coming shallow and uneven as Jimmy inched closer, the space between you shrinking to nothing. The scent of vanilla and his cologne wrapped around you, thick and intoxicating.  

"You gonna stop me?" he murmured, his lips barely brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low, teasing.  

You should’ve. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.  

His thumb dragged over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, like he was testing you, waiting for any sign of resistance. When he found none, his smirk deepened, and then—  

His lips brushed yours.  

Not a full kiss, just a whisper of contact, enough to send a sharp jolt straight through you. Your breath hitched, and Jimmy noticed.  

"You’re shaking," he murmured, his free hand sliding up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, your waist—barely there, but enough to make your skin erupt in goosebumps.  

"I’m n-" You swallowed hard, but the words died in your throat.  

He took advantage of your hesitation, closing the distance entirely. His lips pressed against yours, slow at first, testing, teasing. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, his body heat seeping into you, his hand tracing up your spine like he wanted to memorize every inch of you.  

The moment you responded, the moment you gave in and let your lips move against his, it was over.  

Jimmy deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip before slipping past, claiming your mouth like he had every right to. His grip turned possessive, his fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you back against the counter.  

You let out a soft gasp against his mouth, and he groaned in response, swallowing the sound like it belonged to him.  

"You taste better than that damn cake," he muttered against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip just hard enough to make your stomach flip.  

A shiver ran through you, and your fingers instinctively gripped the front of his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping you upright.  

"Jimmy, we cant—" you breathed, but it came out weak, needy, nothing like the warning you meant for it to be.  

"Shhh," he murmured, his lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then lower, grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "I got you, baby."  

The nickname sent a new wave of heat through you, your body arching into him before you could think twice about it. His hands slid lower, fingers pressing into your hips, gripping you like he had no intention of letting go.  

"You still wanna act like you hate me?" he whispered against your skin, his breath hot, his voice dripping with amusement and something deeper.  

You should’ve said yes. Should’ve pushed him away. Should’ve told him this was wrong.  

But the only thing that left your lips was a soft, breathless whimper.  

Jimmy chuckled, dark and knowing.  

"Yeah," he muttered, his teeth grazing your skin before he kissed you again, slower this time, deeper. "That’s what I thought."

You knew it was a bad idea, knew you were crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, but still, you couldn’t stop. The feel of his lips against yours, the way he held you close, the pressure of his body pressing against yours—everything felt too good to resist.

You’d always found ways to make excuses, to stay just out of reach. The random times you’d bug him when you needed something opened, pretending it was just too difficult for you to handle on your own. You'd act annoyed, making a big show of how "helpless" you were, even though it was never actually hard. It was just an excuse, a reason to get him close to you. He’d always tease you about it, calling you out on how dramatic you were, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes when he did, something you’d always ignored or tried to explain away. 

Then there were the times he’d bring girls over, just to sit around in the living room, loud and carefree, as if they didn’t matter to him. The jealousy it stirred inside you was a dangerous thing. You’d play it cool, roll your eyes and pretend you didn’t care. But you did. You cared so much that it burned. It wasn’t about them, not really. It was the way he’d be with them—too casual, too friendly, not even a hint of what he shared with you. He’d stay in the living room with them for hours, laughing, talking like you weren’t there, almost like he was flaunting it. 

Every time he brought a girl around, he’d still somehow find ways to be around you. He wouldn’t let you slip away completely, not with the way he’d casually touch your arm when passing by, or the way his eyes would seek you out in a room full of people. It was almost like he wanted you to be jealous, wanted to see that spark of emotion flash in your eyes when he paid attention to someone else. But he never made a move on them. Not really. You had to wonder if he was testing you, pushing your boundaries to see how far you'd go. Or maybe, in some twisted way, he was giving you the space to make a move of your own. 

Now, there was no going back. 

His lips pulled away just long enough for you to catch your breath, his forehead resting against yours as you both tried to steady your racing hearts. His fingers were still tangled in your hair, and his other hand had drifted to your lower back, pulling you closer into him. You could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel everything.  

“You know this is crazy, right?” you whispered, your voice shaky, unsure if you were asking him or telling yourself. 

His eyes met yours again, dark and intense, and he gave a small, crooked grin. “Yeah,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip again. “Maybe it’s what we need, ma.”

That was the problem. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about you. It was about both of you. And maybe you both had always known this would happen. Maybe you both had been waiting for the other to make the first move.

His hand slid up beneath your oversized tee, fingers trailing against your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat in their wake. Your breath hitched, your body reacting to his touch before your mind could catch up. And god—he looked so damn good in those glasses. He rarely wore them, but when he did, it did something to you, something dangerous. It wasn’t just the way they framed his sharp features, or the way they made him look even more intense. It was the way they added to that quiet, confident arrogance of his—the way he knew exactly how they affected you.

Your lips parted, and without even thinking, you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to contain the rush of anticipation flooding through you. His eyes darkened at the sight, his pupils dilating with hunger. A low, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, deep and intoxicating, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you could process it, he moved—swift, effortless, like he’d done it a thousand times before. His strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with no effort at all. You gasped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders as he set you down onto the cool marble countertop. 

He didn’t hesitate. His lips crashed into yours again, hungrier this time, more demanding. His hands gripped your ass firmly, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel every hard line of his body pressing into you. Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging just enough to earn another groan from him, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

“Fuck,” Jimmy mumbled against your lips, his voice thick with something between frustration and need. His hands roamed your sides, fingers digging into your skin like he was trying to ground himself. Your breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, as your hands moved instinctively to the hem of your shorts, pushing them down until they slipped off your legs and pooled onto the floor.

It had been over a year—too long since anyone had touched you like this. And yet, a single kiss from the one man you swore you couldn’t stand had you wetter than anyone ever had. It didn’t make sense. It was crazy. But you didn’t care.

Jimmy broke the kiss, his gaze trailing down your body until it settled on your yellow lace thong. The way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened—it sent a rush of heat straight through you. You didn’t even have to look down to know how hard he was. His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he undid his pants, never once breaking eye contact.

“You hate me for real, huh?” His voice was low, teasing, but thick with something deeper, something desperate.

Your eyes locked onto his, and you forced out a soft, defiant, “Mhm.” But it came out as a whimper, betraying the war raging inside you.

His smirk was slow, knowing. “Yeah?”

Before you could say anything else, his pants and boxers hit the floor, and your breath hitched.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, your fingers twitching against the countertop as anticipation curled low in your stomach.

And that’s when you felt it—the hard press of him against you, only the thin lace of your thong keeping you apart. A sharp gasp slipped past your lips, swallowed instantly by his mouth as he kissed you deeper, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you locked in place. Your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails digging in as a shudder ran through you.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured, his voice teasing but rough, his breath hot against your lips.  

Your eyes fluttered open, locking onto his, clouded with a mix of defiance and something dangerously close to surrender. “Ye—yeah,” you mumbled, though the tremble in your voice betrayed you.  

His smirk was slow, knowing. His grip tightened, his fingers flexing against your hips. “Bet”  

Before you could say anything else, he stretched you—slow, deliberate, making sure you felt every inch of his dick claiming you. Your mouth fell open, a soundless moan escaping as your body arched into him. His forehead rested against yours, both of you caught in the moment, breathing each other in.  

Your hands clutched at his back, nails dragging along his skin as he pulled you impossibly closer, filling you to the hilt. The heat, the tension, the months of unspoken rivalry and buried longing—it all exploded into something neither of you could stop now.  

And you didn’t want to.

Jimmy moved slowly, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching with every deep, calculated stroke. You were used to men who rushed, who chased their own pleasure without thinking about yours. But Jimmy—he took his time, like he had something to prove. Like he wanted you to feel every inch of what he was doing to you.  

A shaky breath escaped your lips as your fingers curled against his shoulders. “J-Jimmy…”  

His grip tightened on your hips, his mouth ghosting over the shell of your ear. “What, baby?” His voice was thick, teasing, but there was something raw beneath it.  

You swallowed hard, your body betraying you as you arched into him. “I—” Your words faltered, another breathy whimper slipping free as he rocked into you again, slow and deep.  

He chuckled lowly, his lips trailing down your jaw, pressing lazy kisses along your skin. “You always talk back, always got somethin’ smart to say,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His hands slid up your sides, fingertips brushing under your oversized tee. “But look at you now… all quiet for me.”  

Your nails dug into his back, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Shut up,” you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.  

Jimmy smirked against your skin, his grip tightening. “Nah, you love this shit,” he murmured. “Ain’t nobody ever taken their time with you, huh? Always quick, always rough… but that’s not what you need.”  

You bit your lip, refusing to admit how right he was.  

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression dark, hungry. “When a man really wanna fuck a woman, he don’t rush it. He wanna feel that pussy. That’s the whole fuckin’ point, mama.”  

A shudder ran through you, your breath coming out in short, uneven gasps. He was ruining you, and he knew it.  

“Tell me you still hate me,” he whispered, a smirk playing on his lips as he rolled his hips just right.  

You wanted to. You wanted to hold onto that last shred of defiance. But all that left your lips was a shaky, breathless moan.

His grip tightened as he leaned in, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “Say it,” he murmured, voice thick with control. “Tell me you don’t hate me, baby.”  

Your breath hitched, every nerve in your body on fire. “I—I don’t hate you, Jimmy,” you panted, barely able to form the words as his dick hit every sweet spot in your body.  

He hummed in satisfaction, his hands gripping your thighs, keeping you right where he wanted. “Mmh, I know,” he rasped, his dark gaze locked onto yours. “You just needed some dick, didn’t you?”  

Your heart pounded, fingers digging into his shoulders. You didn’t answer, couldn’t. But he wasn’t letting you off that easy. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Say it.”  

A soft whimper escaped your lips, your head nodding before you could stop yourself. His smirk deepened, his grip tightening as he watched you unravel beneath him.  

The tension coiled tighter, every inch of your body wound up and desperate for release. “Jimmy—Yes…” Your words trailed off into a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut as the pressure built.  

He read you instantly, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Cum on this dick, baby. I got you.”  

And just like that, you shattered, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as your body gave in. He held you through it, his hands steady, his eyes never leaving yours.  

“Damn,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours as you caught your breath. Jimmy didn’t let up. His grip on you was firm as he pulled you down to your feet, spinning you around with ease. His hands guided you, pressing your front against the counter as his body crowded you from behind.  

“Arch that back for me,” he murmured, voice thick with command.  

You obeyed without hesitation, your fingers gripping the cool surface as he slid inside of you, teasing, taking his time. Your breath hitched, a desperate whimper escaping your lips.  

“Damn,” he groaned, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Knew you just needed me to take care of you.”  

Your head fell forward, your lips parting. “Please…”  

He smirked at the way the word rolled off your tongue. “Yeah, baby?”  

You couldn’t form the words. Your thoughts were a blur, tangled in the heat of the moment.  

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing down your spine. “Mmh, all that attitude, all that ‘I hate you’ talk—where it at now?”  

You bit your lip, trying to hold on to whatever fight you had left, but it was useless. His fingers slid lower, finding your clit with ease. A sharp gasp escaped you, your body trembling under his touch.  

“Thought so,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your shoulder. His fingers moved faster as he coaxed you closer to the edge. “And you ain’t done yet, baby. You gonna gimme another one before I let up.”  

A desperate whimper slipped from your lips. “Yeah?”  

He hummed in satisfaction, his fingers working fast but firm, knowing exactly how to unravel you. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “And you gon’ take it.”  

Your body tensed, heat pooling low in your stomach as the sensation built higher, stronger, consuming every part of you.  

“Jimmy—” Your voice broke, your grip on the counter tightening as a wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you breathless.  

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his arms holding you close as he followed, his breath heavy, his hands still gripping you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.  

“fffuuuckk,” he muttered, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your shoulder. “Good girl.”  

Your knees felt weak, your breath shaky, but he held you steady, his lips ghosting over your skin as if savoring the moment.  

“You still hate me?” he murmured against your ear, his voice teasing, smug.  

You let out a breathless laugh, too dazed to even pretend anymore. “Shut up, Jimmy.”  

His chuckle was low, knowing. “ight.”

The night unfolded in a blur of tension and connection, each moment between you and Jimmy pulling you deeper into something unplanned. You moved through the apartment together. His dick was inside of you in the living room, slow and intense, his hands exploring with a mix of desire and tenderness. Every room, every new position felt deliberate.

It wasn’t just about the heat between you—it was the quiet tenderness in his touches, the way he’d pull you close, his hand brushing through your hair. With each passing moment, it became clear: this wasn’t a fleeting thing. Whatever had sparked between you two, it was something deeper than you’d expected. And as the night ended, you couldn’t help but wonder where it would lead.

[nameless-jamie]

Hi, I absolutely love your PA series! And I'm craving some jealous Jamie :) Could you maybe write something like that? 🫣 Maybe Edwin Akufo or Shandy make a comeback and try to stirr shit up for the team? Thanks 🤭

A Nice Guy

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Being Jamie Tartt’s PA meant dealing with a lot of things—his ridiculous schedule, his forgotten appointments, and the occasional existential crisis when he’d suddenly decided he had to go on a juice cleanse and then immediately regret it.

What it didn’t include?

Dealing with a jealous Jamie Tartt. That wasn't in the job description.

But here he was, sitting stiffly across the room, jaw clenched, arms crossed so tightly across his chest it looked like he was physically holding himself back from doing something stupid.

Which, to be fair, was likely.

His glare was locked onto Y/N like she had personally offended him.

Which was insane, because all she’d done was laugh at something Ewin Akufo's assistant, said.

It was a post-match event—some fancy dinner, media, sponsors, the usual. Edwin Akufo was there again, this time he was scouting players from the other team, Westham United, and his assistant and 'hand-shake-guy' Francis was with him. Y/N and him have started a great conversation, both having very eccentric and needy bosses, that's why they kind of bonded. He also bought her a drink.

Jamie had played brilliantly, scoring two goals and basically running circles around the other team. He should’ve been basking in the attention, flashing that cocky grin at every camera in sight.

Instead, he was a table with some Richmond players...sulking.

Y/N caught his eye across the bar, raising an eyebrow. What’s your problem?

Jamie just stared.

Isaac, sitting next to him, nudged his arm. “Mate, you alright? You look ready to kill that man.”

Jamie exhaled sharply through his nose. “Fine.”

He was not fine.

Because Y/N was still smiling at Edwin Akufo's assistant—Franky something?—Jamie did not know his name. Edwin Akufo was the enemy and therefore this guy was too. Especially because he was talking to her like she was the most fascinating person in the world. And Jamie hated it....him.

"Oh, no Edwin is here? That is going to be a weird night," Sam interrupted his thoughts. "Uhm guys, why is Jamie staring down Edwin's assistant Francis?"

"Jamie's jealous because that guy's talking to Y/N," Isaac smirked at Sam and the whole situation, knowingly.

"Ah, I see... I mean Francis is a smooth guy," Sam said, having fun in riling up Jamie some more.

And Jamie was not having it.

She was his.

Wait—no. Not his his. But, like… his. Kind of.

She worked for him. She spent more time with him than anyone else. She put up with his antics, laughed at his jokes, rolled her eyes at his stupidity in a way that made Jamie’s chest go all warm and stupid.

And now some random bloke thought he could just—what? Make her laugh? Charm her?

Not happening.

Jamie stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. Isaac and Sam barely had time to react before Jamie was already moving, striding toward Y/N with a forced, polite smile.

“Oi, who the fuck are you, then?”

Francis looked up, blinking in surprise. “Oh, Mr. Tartt. My name is Francis. Y/N has told me a lot about you. Great game tonight, man.”

Francis put out his hand for one of those manly handshakes. Jamie looked at Y/N and she gave him that warning 'be nice' look.

So, Jamie played nice and gave him a hand. And fuck that handshake really was smooth as fuck. He was a smooth motherfucker, fucking prick.

"Well, Jamie. You are lucky you have such a beautiful assistant like Y/N." Francis said, about to put an arm on Y/N's shoulder.

"Ain't I a lucky guy, huh? Y/N's actually pretty busy, so we have to leave now." Jamie ignored his antics to start a conversation completely, eyes locked on Y/N as he tugged at her wrist. “You ready to go, love?”

Y/N sighed, clearly catching on. “Actually Jamie—”

But he was already tugging her away, ignoring Francis's confused stare. He didn’t stop until they were near the entrance, away from the crowd.

Y/N yanked her arm free, stepping back to face him. “Okay, what’s wrong with you? I had a great conversation with him. I also have your schedule memorized and we both have the rest evening off, so...”

Jamie scoffed. “Me? What’s wrong with me? Nah, what’s wrong with you?”

She crossed her arms. “Oh wow, great argument, Shakespeare. Real convincing. Please, elaborate!”

Jamie ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Why were you even talkin’ to him?”

Y/N blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

She let out a short laugh. “Jamie. It was a conversation. That’s what people do at events. I can talk to whoever I want.”

Jamie scowled. “Yeah, well, he was definitely flirting with you.”

Y/N tilted her head. “And that bothers you because…?”

Jamie hesitated. “’Cause…”

Because you’re mine.

But he couldn’t say that.

Instead, he muttered, “He’s a dick. You know he's Akufo's assistant so he's probably proper evil, like his boss.”

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s your reason?”

Jamie doubled down. “Yeah. That. And—uhhh— Sam was also proper mad at you, because of his thing with Akufo and all stuff.”

Man, oh, man. Jamie used to be so much better at lying... Sam Obisanya mad, at her? Yeah, right.

“Jamie.” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am serious,” Jamie shot back, stepping closer. “What could he possibly have to say that’s so funny?”

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, realizing he wasn’t going to let this go. “It wasn’t even that funny, Jamie.”

Jamie threw his hands up. “Exactly!”

Y/N shook her head, watching him. He was all riled up, eyes bright with frustration, jaw tight.

And she realized—this wasn’t just annoyance.

This was jealousy.

Jamie Tartt, jealous.

Something about that sent a thrill down her spine.

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “You do know I talk to men all the time, right?”

Jamie’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah, but not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you were actually enjoying it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so I’m not allowed to enjoy conversations now?”

Jamie pointed at her. “Not with him.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “You are ridiculous.”

Jamie scoffed. “Yeah, well, you—” He stopped, exhaling sharply, hands going to his hips as he looked at the floor. Then, quieter, he muttered, “I just don’t like seein’ you with people that think they can have you, alright?”

Y/N froze.

Jamie noticed.

Y/N blinked at him, Jamie’s words hanging between them.

'I just don’t like seein’ you with people that think they can have you, alright?'

For a second, neither of them said anything. Jamie had that look—like he’d said something too real, something that made his chest feel all tight and uncomfortable. Y/N knew him well enough to see it, to recognize the way he immediately started backtracking in his own head.

So, of course, she had to make it worse.

She smirked, tilting her head. "Jamie Tartt, are you jealous?"

Jamie scoffed, arms crossing over his chest. "No."

"You so are."

"I’m not," he insisted, but his ears were turning red.

Y/N grinned. "Oh my God, you’re actually jealous."

Jamie exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Nah, see, I’m just lookin’ out for you."

"Looking out for me?"

"Yeah," Jamie said, a little too quickly. "’Cause, like, you deserve better, don’t ya?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Better than a nice, normal guy who wanted to talk about my work and buy me a drink?"

Jamie made a face. "Nice is just another word for boring, and you ain’t boring, are ya?"

Y/N hummed, pretending to consider it. "Hmm. So what you’re saying is, I should be with someone... exciting? Like an astronaut, huh?"

Jamie rolled his eyes. "I’m sayin’ you shouldn’t be wastin’ your time on a prick who works for someone like Akufo. And who doesn’t even know that you hate red wine."

Y/N’s smirk faltered.

Jamie caught it, but instead of panicking, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Yeah. Thought so."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are unbelievable."

"And yet," Jamie grinned, all cocky now that he had the upper hand again, "you’re still standin’ here talkin’ to me instead of goin’ back to your nice, normal bloke."

Y/N exhaled, shaking her head. "Well, I would go back, but unfortunately, my very high-maintenance boss decided to have a full-blown tantrum over it."

Jamie pressed a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically. "Me? A tantrum? That’s slander, that is."

Y/N laughed, shoving his arm. "Whatever. I’m going to get a drink."

Jamie grabbed her wrist before she could walk away, his grip loose but warm. "I’ll get it for ya."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Making up for ruining my night?"

Jamie smirked. "Nah. Just makin’ sure no one else tries to."

And maybe Y/N should’ve called him out on it, pointed out the way his jealousy kept creeping into everything he said. But instead, she just smiled, letting him hold onto her wrist for a second longer than necessary before pulling away.

"Alright, then, Tartt," she said, glancing at the bar. "Surprise me."

Jamie grinned. "Oh, you’re in for it now, love."

And maybe neither of them were saying what they really meant. But they were still enjoying the tension.

[mya-valentine]

February 10th - Let The World Burn by Chris Grey - Ex Husband!Sosuke Aizen x Reader

The world was quiet in the way only the aftermath of destruction could bring—an eerie silence, the air thick with ash and the metallic tang of devastation. You stood amidst the ruins of Karakura Town, your eyes fixed on the horizon. A blood-orange sky bled into the endless fog of despair, casting its ominous glow on the broken world below. You should have been frightened, but fear had long since been replaced by something more numbing: a hollow resignation.

"Sōsuke," you whispered, the name leaving your lips like a prayer and a curse.

"Still saying my name like that," his voice called out from behind you, smooth as silk and just as deceptive. "As if it belongs to you."

You turned to face him, and there he stood, an image of unshakable poise amidst chaos. Sōsuke Aizen, your ex-husband, the man you had once loved more than life itself. His captain's haori fluttered faintly in the wind, though its pristine white was marred by soot and blood. He was no longer the man you had fallen for—the gentle soul with an enigmatic smile and a warm laugh that only you seemed to elicit. No, this Aizen was something entirely different, entirely otherworldly, yet still hauntingly familiar.

"You did this," you said, your voice trembling, anger and sorrow intertwining in equal measure. "You burned everything."

"And I’d do it again," he replied without hesitation, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they roamed your face. "For you."

The weight of his words fell upon you like the collapsing structures of the town. You shook your head, disbelief mingling with the gnawing ache in your chest. "Don't put this on me, Sōsuke. You made your choices."

His gaze softened momentarily, a fleeting flicker of something human behind those cold, calculating eyes. "You think I had a choice?" he asked, stepping closer. "The moment you left, my world began to crumble. Do you truly believe I’d let it fall apart without taking everyone else down with me?"

The wind carried his words, slicing through the air and straight into your heart. Memories flooded back—how it all began, how you had loved him, how he had charmed you with his intellect and quiet strength. You had believed in him, trusted him, stood by his side even as whispers of his ambitions began to surface. And when his true nature was revealed, you had walked away, leaving him and everything you had built together behind.

"You were never satisfied," you said, your voice breaking. "You always wanted more—more power, more control. I couldn't stay and watch you destroy yourself."

"And yet here you are," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Drawn back to me, as if by fate."

You hated how he could still read you so well. Despite everything, a part of you had hoped he could be saved—that somewhere beneath the layers of manipulation and arrogance, the man you once loved still existed. But the look in his eyes told you otherwise. This was not a man who sought redemption. This was a man who would let the world burn for his own desires.

"I came to stop you," you said firmly, though your resolve wavered under his penetrating gaze.

He laughed softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "Stop me? My dear, you should know better. You can’t stop what’s already in motion. The world is my chessboard, and I am its master. And you…" He stepped even closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, like the embers of the destruction he had wrought. "You are my queen."

You recoiled as if struck. "I was never a piece in your game, Sōsuke. And I won’t be now."

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. "You misunderstand," he said softly. "You were never just a piece. You were the reason I played at all."

Tears pricked at your eyes despite yourself. "Then why? Why do this? Why destroy everything?"

His expression darkened, the softness vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Because if I cannot have you, no one can." His voice was calm, but there was a chilling edge to it, an undercurrent of unyielding obsession. "I let you go once, and it nearly destroyed me. I won’t make the same mistake again."

"You can't control me," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desperation. "I’m not yours to keep."

His eyes glinted with something dangerous, something unrelenting. "Aren’t you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Even now, you carry the mark of my love, whether you acknowledge it or not."

He was right, and you hated him for it. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how far you had run, the ghost of him lingered—his touch, his words, his very presence etched into your soul like a scar. But you couldn’t let him win. Not this time.

"You’re a fool, Sōsuke," you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. "You think love is about possession, about control. But love is sacrifice. It’s letting go."

A flicker of emotion crossed his face—regret, perhaps, or something close to it. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Love is power," he countered. "And I will wield it as I see fit."

With that, the ground beneath you began to tremble. The sky darkened further, the air thickening with reiatsu so oppressive it felt as though the world itself was suffocating. He was showing you the extent of his power, the lengths he would go to keep you bound to him.

"Sōsuke, stop!" you cried, but your voice was drowned out by the deafening roar of the collapsing world around you.

"Do you see now?" he said, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "This is what I am willing to do for you. For us."

But there was no "us" anymore. There hadn’t been for a long time. And as much as it tore at your heart, you knew what you had to do. You summoned every ounce of strength within you, focusing your reiatsu into a single, desperate attack. If you couldn’t reach the man you once loved, then you would stop the monster he had become.

"I’m sorry, Sōsuke," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

The blast of your energy collided with his, a brilliant explosion of light and power that illuminated the ruins of Karakura Town. When the dust settled, you were on your knees, gasping for breath. Aizen stood before you, seemingly unscathed, though his expression was unreadable.

"You’re strong," he said, almost admiringly. "Stronger than I gave you credit for."

"It doesn’t matter," you said, forcing yourself to your feet. "I’ll keep fighting you, Sōsuke. Until my last breath, I’ll fight."

He studied you for a long moment, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. "Perhaps that’s why I loved you," he said finally. "Your fire, your defiance. It’s intoxicating."

"Then let me go," you pleaded, your voice breaking. "If you ever truly loved me, let me go."

For a moment, you thought he might. His hand twitched at his side, his expression softening just enough to give you hope. But then, he stepped back, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"No," he said simply. "I’d rather let the world burn."

And with that, he vanished, leaving you alone amidst the ashes of what once was. You sank to the ground, your strength finally giving out. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, all you could do was mourn—mourn the man you had loved, the life you had lost, and the world that had been consumed by his ambition.

As the blood-orange sky darkened into night, you whispered his name one last time, the echo of it swallowed by the silence of a world on the brink of oblivion.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[midnight-mourning]

The Thought That Counts

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 10💘💘

This one was super interesting for me as someone who's ace to sit and think about, shout out to the aroaces, this one is for you, little hurt/comfort just because that's what i was feeling

Prompt: Sun and Moon discussing with an Aroace yn why they dislike romance? Or maybe just watching some really bad romcoms on a horrible day

Word Count: 1753

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

The sound of happy love songs has started to grate on you recently, you're not going to lie. You get maybe like, a couple days worth, but all week long feels a bit, excessive. Not to mention the barrage of lovey dovey advertisements, decorations, and so on you've seen everywhere you've went.

Sure, it all wasn't intentionally done to annoy or make you uncomfortable, but sometimes it certainly felt like it. 

As you walk into the Daycare for work, you do your best to ignore it as per usual. Today would hopefully be the last day—since it was Valentine's, after all—and then you could go back to living in peace. 

Again, it wasn't necessarily a hate for the holiday, rather it was just a general discomfort. Not typically feeling, if ever at all, attraction for other people just made you feel like you were getting pressured into a game everyone else was playing. Except for you that is. 

It just wasn't your holiday, and that was fine, you just simply wished others would see it that way too. Instead of having to constantly be on edge if you said the wrong thing about not wanting the persistent reminder that you don't fit inside the box everyone else puts you in. 

It was a bummer, and it hurt quite a bit. Losing friendships and the likes in certain cases. Just because of the fact you didn't experience the world the way they did. 

But, you'd deal with it. Just like you've always done. 

If you could, that is. 

Unfortunately, your favorite coworker(s) had made it a bit difficult to keep your head down and avoid like you typically did. 

Valentine's was their favorite holiday—though, you think they said that with every holiday—and thus they had to go all out for it. 

Every inch of the Daycare was covered head to toe with decorations, streamers and paper hearts covering every surface. Instead of the Daycare theme, age appropriate love songs played through the speakers up above softly, adding to the overly love-filled atmosphere. 

For them, you were sure it was great, exactly the vision they had in mind. For you, it was just, too much. 

But the decorations and the music weren't the problem. Unfortunately, it was Sun and Moon themselves causing the 'issues' you were dealing with. 

All week long they'd been leaving little things for you to find throughout the play area. Little handmade cards with endearing notes. Paper roses folded neatly by your belongings. 

It tore you up inside, mainly because you knew what this all was leading up to, and you were almost dreading having to tell them. It wasn't that you didn't care for them. You really, truly did. A lot. So much. 

But not like that. Not at this point, that is. Sure, maybe it was possible, but at the current moment, the idea of such just made you feel, off. 

So when Sun came up to you near the middle of your shift, something hiding behind his back, you already had a guess as to what it was. 

Before he said anything, he seemed to pause, almost deflating upon getting closer to you. 

You speak first, trying to keep your tone light. "Everything alright, Sunny?"

"Of course, Sunbeam!" Still, he keeps his hands behind his back. "But, is everything alright with you?"

You nod with a smile. "Of course. I'm just a little tired is all."

"Oh... are you sure? You've seemed a bit, upset all week long. Would you... like to talk about it?"

Your brows raise, both in surprise and in fear that you'd been found out. "I, no, that's okay! It's not um, something I really want to talk about right now."

"Right. Of course." He steps back, then another, then turns around but manages to keep whatever he was holding hidden from you. "Well, enjoy your break, friend!" 

He walks off then, before you can stop him, and your heart sinks a bit. 

The rest of the day proves to be, incredibly stressful. The party for the kids goes great, but it leaves you with a terrible disaster to clean up. It sours your mood more than you expected, especially after finding the mess of glitter glue hiding underneath one of the tables, you spend nearly thirty minutes scrubbing on your hands and knees to get it cleaned up. And when you emerge you remember all the rest of the clean up you still have to do, stressing you out even further.

With a sigh and a stretch to crack your back, you trudge over to where the trash is and deposit the used paper towels into it. You turn around to get back to work, but are shocked to find Sun standing there, looking a bit cheered up compared to your last 'official' conversation earlier. 

"Hello Sunshine!" 

You smile, tired. "Hi, Sun. Need something?"

"It's not what I need, but rather, what you need, friend." He pokes your chest once, rays spinning. "I have a little surprise for you. If you'll accept." 

Your brow furrows. This seems a bit different than earlier, so you're curious. "Oh?"

"Yup! Now come on!" He takes both your hands and starts pulling you out of the Daycare, heading in the direction of the theater, you in tow. 

You don't protest physically, too tired and stressed—as you quickly realize—but do speak up about it. "Woah! What about cleanup?"

"Clean up can wait! You obviously don't feel well, and we need to fix that immediately!" Sun pushes open the theater doors with his back, leading you inside. "And Moon and I have just the thing for it."

After your eyes adjust to the lighting, you're surprised to see there's a film pulled up on the large screen, with a couple of beanbags and blankets piled near the middle of the room. There's a smell of popcorn in the air that makes your mouth water. 

Sun finally stops once you're over by the beanbags, pushing you to sit down in one, covering you with a blanket once you comply. He sets a bag of popcorn and a couple boxes of candies in your lap. When he's done he pats your head and sits down in a bean bag not too far from you. But you do note it's not his usual spot beside you, but you let it go as he claps his hands. 

His rays spin. "Ready to get started? This is just for you, but we went ahead and took the liberty of picking the first film."

"I, yeah, I guess so. Thank you guys, I uh, needed a break." You take a bite of popcorn and turn to look at the screen. "More than I expected—Is this 'Valentine's Day'?!" You almost choke from your laughter. 

"Of course! It seemed fitting, and the reviews we read were very passionate!"

You shake your head, settling in. "Passionate is the key word there, I think."

The film passes by quicker than you'd expect, chatting with Sun every so often to explain why the story makes you laugh so much, explaining what exactly a romcom is, and just in general decompressing from the day. 

They let you pick the next one—with Moon getting to be out to watch this time instead—and you choose another classic bad movie, 'Bride Wars' to keep the theme up. 

Again with Moon though, he keeps his distance from you, settling in a respectable few feet away. Which, you did appreciate in the beginning, after being overwhelmed with the amount of in your face love-dovey stuff the past several weeks. But now, you're feeling, lonely. 

About a quarter of the way into this movie, you decide to speak up, turning to your lunar companion. 

"Hey. What's going on with you guys today?" You ask, reaching a hand over to rest on his. 

Moon flinches, not making eye contact with you. "We're just, we thought, it doesn't matter. We don't want you to be uncomfortable with us, Star."

"Uncomfortable? With you?" You shake your head. "Never. I mean, yeah I was a little worried when—" You stop, realizing it's not helping as he shrinks in on himself. "I, let me explain, I guess."

Moon nods, and you sigh. 

"Romance, just, isn't my thing. Not usually, if ever. I just, I don't really get those feelings for other people. And when it gets constantly shoved down your throat, you start to realize how uncomfortable with it you actually are. Really uncomfortable. I just wanna be me and not feel like I have to be something I'm not, that I can't be." You shake your head again. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I can still feel attraction and the likes, and I, I care about you two a lot. Especially you two. But it's just, not like that? I want to be close with you, be around you all the time, I like your jokes, your teasing, talking to you, but the idea of romance, in general, just, gives me a bit of an ick sometimes, does that all make sense?" You lay back, running a hand through your hair. "I mean, I—I think I'm in love with you both, but not in the way that I have romantic feelings for you? Sorry this is a word vomit of an explanation I'm sorry—"

You feel arms wrap around you, pulling you up into a hug. 

Moon's voice is soft, just a murmur. "We're sorry."

"Moon, it's not on you—"

You can feel him shake his head against you. "Not that. We mean we're sorry you have to deal with that. It's not fair."

"Oh, yeah. I guess so."

He pulls back, hand resting on your cheek as he looks down at you. "We care about you too, a lot. It, doesn't have to be anything more than that. It's enough just to be able to say it. Does that make sense?"

"Y-yeah. It does. More than you know." You feel your face heat up, either from embarrassment or excitement at understanding. You bury your head against his chest. "And as for like, the gifts and stuff, that's still okay. They're still sweet, and they mean a lot. I promise."

Moon snickers. "Sounds like you just enjoy getting things."

"Not true! I really do like it! It's the thought that counts." You protest, now fully embarrassed. 

Moon hugs you a little tighter, humming. "I suppose it is."

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you for the request @starspindle! It was interesting to tackle in that through writing I learned a bit about myself and my own indentity, plus i just enjoy writing hurt/comfort hehe ^^

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3

[bitchinbarzal]

Shut Me Out | K Kaprizov

summary: kirill isn’t handling his injury well and he takes it out on his girl.

-

Kirill's days had blurred into one long cycle of frustration. His injury was still healing, but it felt like time itself was moving too slowly. Sitting in their apartment, he had spent hours watching the Wild play—just as they had done the day before and the day before that—but it wasn't the same. Not being on the ice, not feeling the rush of the game, the roar of the crowd—it was all a distant memory now. Instead, he was left here, on the couch, immobilized. And, if he were being honest, he was angry.

He was angry at the situation, at the injury, at himself.

Y/N had been trying her best to keep him company, bringing him his favorite snacks and sitting by his side. She’d even begun watching games with him, though her interest in hockey was more out of love than any genuine passion for the sport. She tried to engage him in other ways, suggesting they go for walks, or that he try watching a new show, anything to distract him. But it all felt like a blur of activity that didn’t change anything.

This morning, she had brought him coffee and sat down next to him on the couch, offering words of encouragement. But he had been distant, barely acknowledging her, his focus entirely on the TV.

"Hey," she said, sitting beside him and watching his eyes stay glued to the screen. "You’ve been watching the game for hours. Maybe we should do something else for a bit?"

He didn’t answer right away, just let out a deep sigh, and then muttered, “I'm fine.”

Y/N frowned. “You sure? I can tell you’re not feeling great.”

Kirill set the remote down and turned to her. “I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated, his tone sharper now. “I just don’t want to talk right now.”

She recoiled, surprised at the bite in his voice. "I just want to help, Kirill. I’m worried about you. You’ve been stuck here doing nothing, and I feel like you’re pushing me away."

“I’m not pushing you away," he shot back, his voice rising. “I just don’t need you all over me. You’re treating me like I’m some fragile thing that can’t function without your help.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. She had been nothing but caring, trying her hardest to support him through a tough time, and now, he was acting like it was too much.

“That’s not what I’m doing!" she snapped. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

"I want you to stop treating me like I’m broken!” Kirill’s voice cracked a little, the frustration of the last few weeks pouring out. "I’m not a kid. I don’t need you constantly asking how I feel or what I need. I just... I need space."

Y/N stood up, taking a step back from him, her eyes wide with shock. “Space?” Her voice trembled. “You’ve been on the couch for days. You haven’t left this apartment, Kirill. You don’t want space, you want to shut me out.”

His expression darkened, his jaw clenched. “Maybe I do want to shut you out. I just... I just want to feel like myself again, without everyone hovering over me.”

“Everyone?" Y/N blinked, almost laughing bitterly. "I’m the only one here. I’m the only one who cares about you like this, and you're acting like I’m a nuisance."

The words hit him harder than he anticipated, and for a moment, he faltered. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing away from her, trying to control the mess of emotions swirling inside him.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” she said, her voice softening as she watched him. “I just hate seeing you like this. You’re in pain, you’re frustrated, and I want to be here for you, Kirill.”

He turned to face her, his eyes tired, and there was something vulnerable in them that he hadn’t allowed himself to show before. “I don’t want to need anyone, Y/N. I’ve always been the guy who handles things on his own. I don’t know how to lean on someone, and it’s killing me.”

Her heart clenched at his confession, the sharp edge of his words now sounding hollow and raw. "You don't have to handle it all on your own," she whispered, taking a step toward him. "But I can't help you if you don't let me in."

He stared at her, his eyes shifting from frustration to something else—something softer, regretful. "I’m sorry," he muttered, his voice quiet now. "I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I just... I hate feeling useless. I hate that I can’t play, that I can’t do what I love."

“I get it,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But that doesn’t mean you have to push me away. You’re not useless, Kirill. You’re still you. And I’m here for you, no matter what."

He let out a shaky breath, rubbing his eyes, as if trying to erase the frustration that still lingered there. He looked at her, really looked at her, and the weight of his words sank in. "I don’t know what I’d do without you," he whispered. "I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t helping. You’re the only person who gets it. I just... I didn’t want to seem weak."

Y/N walked over to him and gently cupped his face in her hands. “You’re not weak, Kirill. You’re human. And sometimes, even the strongest people need help.”

The apology was slow, but it was there, and she could see it in the way his shoulders sagged with relief, in the way his eyes softened.

"I don’t want to be this guy, the one who shuts you out," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I hate being like this. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough when I’m not playing."

She smiled softly, tracing her thumb along his cheek. "You’re more than good enough. You're more than hockey. You’re you. And I love you. And I’ll love you even when you’re sitting on this couch all day, feeling sorry for yourself."

He chuckled softly, his hands moving to her waist as he pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair. "I promise I’ll try harder to let you in. I don’t want to make you feel like you’re not important to me."

Y/N smiled into his chest, feeling the weight of the tension finally lift. "I know you’ll try," she said, breathing him in. "We’ll figure this out. Together."

And for the first time in a long while, Kirill allowed himself to believe it.

[watarfallar]

DESERT DUO! *I say staring at the sand on the beach, the people around me questioning my mental stability*

Grian: I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

Scar: Don’t you have any dignity, Grian? Grian: Uh, no.

Scar: Grian is not allowed to violate the dress code, even on 'casual' Fridays. Scar: No matter how many times you say please, Grian. We won't put any of the hats you've been asking about into the dress code.

Scar, playing a video game: This game is so frustrating! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Grian: Ok, I think it’s time to turn off the game for a little while. Scar: But I’m having fun!

Grian: Did you ever have like a pet run away and find it or anything? Scar: I had a lizard that I burnt.

Scar: They couldn't find their way out of a paper bag. Grian: That's not true! I found my way out of a paper bag yesterday!

Grian: Scar, I think we have a problem. Scar: What, the fire? Grian: No, the- wait, what fire? Scar: Oh forget about it, this sounds more interesting.

Scar: Question. When they shot Bambi's mother, did you find that a sad moment…at all? Grian: I'm sure she's mounted on a nice wall in a fine home somewhere.

Scar: English is CRAZY. Oregano is both a spaghetti leaf topping and a form of paper art! Grian: What is this "paper art" you speak of? Scar: That shit where you make cranes and stuff out of folded paper! Grian: … Scar.

Scar: We are not mad. We are just disappointed. Grian: No, we are mad. Scar: Yes. We are. We are livid. But we are going to let this one slide. Grian: No, we’re not! Scar: I am not a mind reader, Grian!

Scar: If this plan goes down the drain, where should we regroup? Grian: The afterlife, I guess.

Grian: How was your day, Scar? Scar: Yeah, fine, it's anti-bullying week at school. Grian: Oh? And what does that mean? Scar: It means I can't bully anyone for a whole week.

Scar: What's this? Grian, hugging Scar: Affection! Scar: Disgusting. Scar: …Do it again.

Scar: You use humor to deflect your trauma. Grian: Awww, thanks- Scar: That’s not a good thing. Grian: All I’m hearing is that you think I’m funny.

Scar: I need a long word. Grian: T-rex but the long one.

Grian: Just wondering, did you get any sleep? Scar: Did I get any… leap? Grian: What…?

Grian: That's a nice arguement, Scar Why don't you back it up with a source? Scar: My source is that I made it the fuck up!

Scar: Grian, I screwed up, big time. Grian: Scar, given your daily life experiences, you’re gonna have to be more specific.

Grian: closes a cabinet a crash is heard behind the cabinet door Scar: What was that? Grian: The sound of someone else's problem.

Grian: I can't take you seriously wearing that. Scar: Aw, you take me seriously at all? Grian: Fair point.

Scar: And what do I get out of this? Grian: I will give you a dollar. Scar: What do you think I am? A chump? I would never do it for a dollar! Grian: How bout two dollars? Scar: You got yourself a deal.

Grian, looking at a map: It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn't it? Scar: Other side, Grian…

Grian: As a responsible adult- Scar: chuckles Grian: … As a responsible adult—

Scar: I'm going to take a shower, I'll be right back. Grian: Why are you telling me this, I don't care. Grian, right after Scar leaves the room: I miss them already.

[sturniololuvz]

https://www.tumblr.com/sturniololuvz/775043131391475712/little-sister-sees-chris-drinkingsmoking-underage

smoking ver? 🫣

okayyy!

“Caught in the Act”

Chris sturniolo x sister

Warnings : smoking

Y/N had been searching for Chris for the past fifteen minutes. She had just finished her homework and wanted to show him a funny video she found, but he was nowhere in the house. Matt and Nick were inside playing video games, so she figured Chris had to be outside.

Sure enough, when she stepped onto the back porch, she spotted him leaning against the side of the house, his hoodie pulled up, back turned to her. She was about to call out to him when she noticed something strange—his hand lifted to his lips, and when he exhaled, a thin cloud of smoke drifted into the air.

Her stomach dropped.

“Chris?” she called, her voice hesitant but firm.

Chris jumped, immediately fumbling to hide the cigarette in his hand. He spun around, eyes wide with panic when he saw his little sister standing there, arms crossed, looking both shocked and disappointed.

“Y/N—what are you doing out here?” he asked quickly, his voice unnaturally casual.

“I was looking for you,” she replied, stepping closer. Her nose scrunched at the smell lingering in the air. “Are you smoking?”

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he was caught. There was no talking his way out of this. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”

“Not a big deal?!” Y/N cut him off, her voice rising. “Chris, that’s disgusting! And it’s bad for you! Do you even know what that does to your lungs?”

Chris groaned. “Oh my God, you sound like Mom.”

“Well, maybe you need to listen to Mom,” she shot back, her 13-year-old attitude in full force. “Why are you even doing this? Since when do you smoke?”

Chris avoided her gaze, shuffling his feet. “I don’t do it all the time… just sometimes, when I’m stressed or whatever.”

Y/N’s expression softened slightly, but she was still upset. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. There are literally a million other ways to deal with stress that don’t involve ruining your lungs.”

Chris sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y/N, please don’t say anything to Nick and Matt, okay?”

Y/N frowned. She hated keeping secrets from her older brothers—especially one like this. But at the same time, she didn’t want to get Chris in trouble.

“I won’t if you stop,” she bargained, her tone serious. “Like, for real. No more of this. It’s not worth it, Chris.”

Chris looked at his little sister, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes. He knew she wasn’t just being dramatic—she actually cared.

After a long pause, he sighed. “Alright… I’ll stop.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Promise?”

Chris chuckled softly and held up his pinky. “Pinky promise.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment before linking her pinky with his. “Good. ‘Cause if I catch you again, I am telling Nick and Matt.”

Chris rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, yeah. Got it.”

As they walked back inside, Chris felt a little guilty—but maybe Y/N was right. Maybe this really wasn’t worth it.

[lunaandco]

her boy

pairing: gavi x ofc

summary: gavi lost a bet with someone he despises

warnings: suggestive content, implied retraining, sub!gavi, olympique de lyon player!ofc

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // I do not take requests

Gavi hated lots of things: shrimps, pickles, Real Madrid, parking the bus... but there was one person he hated even more: Noa Paredes.

If someone told his fifteen year old self that he would have such feelings for her, he would have laughed in their face. Noa and him had been friends since they started sharing clsses in La Masia, when they were twelve year olds.

It had been a match made in heaven. Noa required competiton to keep herself entertained, Gavi, as shy as he was, needed someone to force him out of his shell. Which meant that the two midfielders would spend most of their joint training trying to outshine each other.

Their competition was not as tough as it was with the other kids of their own gender. They knew, deep down, that they could not take each other's spots in their respective teams, which meant that their arguments would always end amicably.

But the issue was, they were both too emotional to handle certain aspects of their relationship. Like for exmaple, the fact that everyone thought they were a couple. Or the fact that they actually weren't.

Moving up to the first team meant Gavi won, he had made it first.

But it also meant he lost.

Noa had completely different schedules, and little by little, they started seeing each other less and less. Until they were almost strangers.

The thing about Barça Femení was, their midfield was stacked, and Noa would not find a spot so easily. Which meant that when the offer came through, she had no real reason to stay. As much as she loved the club, her caeer was more important, and she would have more minutes in Lyon. So she packed her bags.

Maybe if Gavi had had the guts to talk about his feelings, none of it would have happened.

But he chickened out, and she started to play for the one and only Olympique de Lyon.

It wasn't a decison that sat well with the club. Many board directors were pissed, that such talent had slipped through the cracks of their farmhouse. Others criticised how easily Noa shrugged the blaugrana jersey.

But Gavi? Gavi hated that she was now, in a way, truly his enemy.

He texted, months after she left. It was a challenge.

"I bet I can score more goals than you this season."

And jsut like that, their banter started again.

💙❤️

Having that secret dynamic, was fun. Gavi felt like he was having a secret affair, something none of the stupid journalists could even imagine, but based in hate and not love.

But sometimes, their competitiveness meant their bets got out of hand.

Gavi had inisited in making a a very risky bet: if Noa lost her next wucl match, she would have to do everything she said for a day. But if she won... then it would be him doing everything she said.

Noa had smirked at that, and he was now scared of what she could ask of him. Because of course, Lyon beat Real Madrid with ease.

The bet had been set weeks earlier, and Noa still hadn't claimed her reward. Until she suddenly attended his game without warning him.

Gavi spotted her by chance, when he was trying to find where the injured players had been seated. She was next to Jana Fernández, a girl he remebered her having a decent realtionship back in the day, which he imagined had gone cold after her move.

Gavi blushed, his knees going weak. He was more nervous that he had ever been in years.

Suprisingly, the match went well for him. He assissted Lamine's winning goal in the 73rd minute and won all of his aerial duels against a dude a head taller than him.

His teammates wanted to celebrate, but Gavi scurried away as soon as he could. Once he was safe at home, he texted Noa.

"What do you want?"

"You know what." She replied. "It's time to pay."

"Come home."

💙❤️

Noa was wearing the same outfit as in the match. Gray sweatpants, a white tank top and an oversized bomber jacket. She also didn't take long, as if she had been waiting for him to give her permission to come.

Gavi didn't say anyhting and neither did Noa. it was as if the weight of the situation had frozen thier rivalry. It was the first time they saw each other in the flesh since she had left La Masia, two years earlier.

"You know we don't have to do anything, right?" Noa's words took him by surprise. Gavi had not expected her to pull back in a situation she clearly had the upper hand.

"Are you scared?" he questioned, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"You should be," was her retort. Gavi hummed.

"You keep saying that. What could be so bad?"

"I could ask you to post a selfie to your official account wearing Vinicius' jersey." Noa replied without missing a beat.

"Nah. That would be boring."

He was right and he knew it. Noa took a step forward.

"What if I told you to take your clothes off. Would you do it?" She arched an eyebrow, as if daring him. Gavi's breath caught on his throat. Suddenly his clothes felt itchy, like he actually needed to take them off.

"Maybe." His voice was strained.

"Then go on." Noa's suggestion was barely a whipser, but Gavi obeyed anyway. Her lips parted, as her gaze fell on his chest. "You know you can back out any time, right?"

"You've said that before," he muttered, hands falling to the waist of his pants. "Starting to believe you want to back out."

Noa's hands joined his by the zipper.

"Just making sure."

Gavi kissed her. It was an impulsive act, grabbing her jaw and pushing her into a fiery kiss. She seemed taken by surprise, but it took her an instant to react. Her hand shot up to his neck, and it squeezed, warning. Gavi gasped, and as their lips parted, she pushed him to the bed.

"Do I need to restrain you?"

He did not know how to answer that question. His mouth opened and closed without uttering a sound.

"Maybe?"

Noa smirked, coming to sit on his lap, hands on his shoulders.

"Don't make me do it." She advised, biting his ear. "You won't like the outcome."

Gavi gasped, profoundly doubting that statement, but he nodded.

[artist-kreating-stuff]

Aw, thanks for the tag!

What’s the origin of your blog name?: It was originally something different, but that name was derived from two specific fandoms. As I started branching out into other fandoms, though, having a very specific name just didn’t seem right, so I changed it to a name that was a little more all-encompassing.

OTP(s) + Shipname: Dang, I have so many. First it was Jaya and Kailor from Ninjago. Then it was Shualt from Beyblade Burst. More recently, I’ve slowly been becoming more and more obsessed with Codywan from Clone Wars. Along with Rexiyo. They’ve kind of been growing on me.

Favorite color: Any shade of blue!

Favorite game: I don’t really play any games, but I do like to watch gameplays. Jacksepticeye and CoryxKenshin are my two current favorite gamers.

Song stuck in your head: Breathe by Olly Alexander.

Weirdest trait/habit: I pick my split ends. I’ve taken to having a pair of scissors next to me when I’m working so that I don’t damage my hair further.

Hobbies: Reading, writing, drawing, and scrolling through social media. Problem is I often can’t decide which one to focus on during my free time, so I more often then not revert to the fourth option.

If you work, what’s your profession?: I’m a kitchen worker. Trust me, it’s a very messy business.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?: My dream job is to be a writer/illustrator, who doesn’t necessarily make millions, but certainly makes enough to keep herself comfortable.

Something you’re good at: I’ve been told my drawings and short stories are good.

Something you’re bad at: ANYTHING WITH NUMBERS.

Something you love: My family, hanging out, not a care in the world.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: THE CLONES OF THE REPUBLIC. I WILL SPEAK AT LENGTH ABOUT HOW THEY DESERVED BETTER.

Something you hate: ANYTHING WITH NUMBERS.

Something you collect: I’m kind of embarrassed to say this, but I take screenshots of fanfics that I like so that I don’t have to scroll through dozens of media just to find it again.

Something you forget: A lot of things. So many things that I forgot how long the list is.

What’s your love language?: I don’t have a partner at the moment, but if I had one, I’d say small moments together and small gifts.

Favorite movie/show: Clue. It was the first true mystery classic that my parents introduced me to and still makes me laugh to this day.

Favorite food: Anything with pasta. Love me a bowl of noodles!

Favorite animal: Dogs. They’re too good for us, even though they (mine in particular) drive us crazy.

What were you like as a child?: Very very weird and naive. I said the weirdest things and thought they were the truth. Probably made my parents very concerned a few times.

Favorite subject at school: English or Art. I loved having an excuse to stare at paper for a while.

Least favorite subject: ANYTHING WITH NUMBERS.

What’s your best character trait?: Connect with me on my fixations, and I will be your friend for life.

What’s your worst character trait?: I hate to admit it, but I’m selfish. When I’m put in a situation, I’ll consider the other party, but I’ll also think about how I play into it.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?: I’d be less dependent on others and more dependent on myself.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?: Amelia Earhart. I’d like to meet the woman paved the way for women everywhere before she, you know, vanished off the face of the Earth.

Tag as many mutuals as you want! (no pressure): @littledudeholland @pixanefan @give-me-your-heart @mellow-lynx and whoever else wants to join!

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? When I was in middle school, someone told me "you dress so goth, but your personality is so happy. You're like a really cheerful grim reaper. A joyful soul collector." And that's been my username for most everything ever since!

OTP(s) + Shipname: Oooh, right now it's Jayvik, and tbh I can't think of another one, this is one of the first ships I've been really really into tbh. Other dynamics focused on my blog have actually been more platonic, like Irondad

Favorite color: Red!

Favorite game: Dungeons and Dragons! Both as a player, and DM!

Song stuck in your head: The Challenge - EPIC

Weirdest habit/trait? I download thousands of still frames of tv shows that I love so I can make memes out of them. But I have to sift through and delete all the pictures that are blurry or unnecessary, which takes hours. I think it's super fun because I'm autistic and really enjoy sorting stuff lol

Hobbies: Writing, playing DnD, making memes, and hanging out with my friends!

If you work, what's your profession? Not so much a profession lol, I work at a toy store. It's a part time job while I'm in college, studying to be a radiologist!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? Radiologist. But ANY job I wish? Professional DM or Professional DnD player, like the people on Dropout or Critical Role haha

Something you're good at: I'm good at writing stories! I can write them well and write things that make people feel deep emotions, and I like that.

Something you're bad at: Recognizing when someone doesn't want help haha. I tend to try and fix things or help people when they just want to vent, and it ends up frustrating for both of us.

Something you love: I love stories. Any kind, I love so so many

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: My favorite shows and stories, my dnd campaigns and characters, my stories and ideas

Something you hate: Fascism. Bigotry. Willful ignorance. Fearmongering. Propaganda.

Something you collect: Dice!! I'm a dice goblin for sure haha

Something you forget: I often forget chores unfortunately

What's your love language? Physical touch and acts of service

Favorite movie/show: Ooh right now it's definitely Arcane haha

Favorite food: Sushi!

Favorite animal: Cats!

What were you like as a child? In a word? Unwell haha. I'm a good bit better now, still struggling with a lot, but better than I used to do

Favorite subject at school? English, I was always good at that class

Least favorite subject: Chemistry. I hate that shit so much lol

What's your best character trait? I think that I'm kind and willing to stand up for others

What's your worst character trait? I can be disrespectful to some types of spirituality unfortunately. It just doesn't make logical sense to me. I have two friends that are fully convinced that a cursed doll gave some youtuber testicular cancer. And I just can't see the logic or critical thought in that

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? Mmm. All of fascism shit is definitely damaging my calm so I'd love to change that specifically

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Harry Allen. Google him he's a badass transgender cowboy

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!!

@sb-essebi @glitternightingale @blatterpussbunnyfromhell @captainhollowstories @kydrogendragon @misforvendetta @poetryinmotion-author @bocularteletheric @kai-ovillager @thatoneneuvichiliauthor @4amarcanethoughts @alexspearsxoxo @kotonni @buckybucananbarnes @kakesuwolf @martybaker @patheticjayce @sleepycrowhours @aixabi @up-the-bracket @snoopyviktor @emdashflower @humanshapedstress @hellsalore @juuzousmom @softandslow @fangirlshenanigans04 @batmans-attic @lvrstrsh @bluemoyai @tearexxwrites @bodyofvvater @lifeandeathepub @areesespiece @lancesblueazaleas @monaisme @milkywaysipper @carmendyy @tseecka @heazueken @tophat-69 @velocitychroma @prjctdiva @gremlinofchaos @ourvectorviktor @kenjinx @jxmimac @gh0stedvhampir @voxconcordia @arcaneheraldslawyer

ngl I tried to tag ALL my mutuals that I have, but this was how many it allowed me to do before it made me stop lol so here's as many as I could fit!

[nellasbookplanet]

The tragic idea that the Betrayers loved their siblings so much that it ended up being what drove them apart. They didn't want to settle for anything that could hurt their family, and mortals were doing so, either directly (a mortal usurping one of them) or indirectly (emotionally hurting them during the Schism by just. dying so much). To the Betrayers, it wasn't worth it. They wanted their beloved family to leave and go somewhere that wouldn’t hurt them.

To them, it's the primes who are the betrayers. The primes were motivated by more than just love for their immediate family - they loved their creation, too, and more than that, felt a responsibility for it. They would rather fight their own siblings than leave it.

We saw all the gods love and protect each other during the opening of Downfall. The Betrayers were not uniquely evil from the start. They wanted to save themselves and their family from hardship and suffering, even if it meant leaving their creation, their game, and in response their siblings locked them away. Not only do they not love mortals, they view mortals as this corruptive force that somehow turned their family against them. Do they think that, if they succeed in exterminating them, the Primes will be freed from their influence? Maybe - perhaps some of them are waiting to forgive and embrace their siblings, but far from all, I suspect. Asmodeus certainly expressed during Calamity that he didn’t so much want to be reunited with his siblings as he wanted to punish them. He was betrayed by the ones he loved most for the sake of a game! Maybe togetherness and forgiveness was once an obtainable goal, but not anymore. Even if the Betrayers succeeded in ending Exandria, the Primes would never forgive them, and they would never forgive the primes. Their family can never be whole again because of, as they see it, the toxic influence of mortals. So they hate mortals for this influence, but more than that, they hate their siblings for being so weak as to fall for it.

[shima-draws]

When your game crashes and you haven’t saved in several hours

[dykedvonte]

I was rewatching mouthwashing, and I ended up thinking of the different reactions that Curly and Jimmy had in doing their tasks. How during the scene of Anya evaluating Jimmy and showing dread towards the idea of doing his evaluation, Curly was the one that offered to take it off her hands. He had no issue with adding more to his plate, because he knew - or well, thought, he knew that Jimmy wasn't going to "bullshit" with him since he's known him for a long time. When Anya hands Curly a note from Swansea, Curly goes to check out what the issue is and he takes care of it without a complaint, the only "complaint" he has is how this incident could have damaged the pods. Which is reasonable, those pods are their only way to be saved if anything tragic happens on the ship. However, in comparison to Jimmy being asked to do things, he's passive-aggressive about it. When Anya asks Jimmy if he could help her out with Curly's painkillers, he tells her that people should be worth their titles, specifically using her title as a nurse when she asked him for help and then when she says forget it, since he made her feel insecure, he still goes "Oh no, I'LL take care of it" as if he was doing a chore, a favor for her. Then, there's that part where he blows up at her for things that she didn't even ask him to do - more so the others asked him about it, like the code scanner, him deciding he needed to find the axe for the foam, and then, there's the medicine part (which when she does ask, and she reconsiders - going to do it herself, he takes that away from her). Jimmy complains about the tasks he has to do and he treats it like a big issue, a "woes me" that he has to do this and that - wanting the praise of the capital without actually doing any work. While Curly doesn't complain about it, in fact, he even mentions that he's aware of how well he is doing at his job as a Captain during that cockpit scene with him and Jimmy. If Jimmy only had to do a small amount of tasks to get irritated and annoyed at being captain, while Curly didn't which I feel like encapsulates their personalities. Curly understands what he's doing is a job, it's a responsibility, why would he complain at any point for doing what he's suppose too? Why would he be upset at people asking him to do tasks? While Jimmy on the other hand, isn't used to it at all and it's different to what he's had before and he's realizing that he doesn't actually like doing the work he has too. I just wanted to ramble about it even if it seemed kind of obvious xd

It’s obvious but it is a thing people miss or understate when trying to find parallels in Curly’s and Jimmy’s relationship/personalities.

Like the way people portray it as neither taking responsibility when it is almost split down the middle of Curly taking responsibilities and faults that shouldn’t be his and making himself unequipped to handle the ones that are while Jimmy refuses to handle the responsibilities he has because he wasn’t expecting the work that comes with them.

Not a lot to say but people forget that another thing the game comments on is prioritization of issues and responsibilities and how the guys fail at it in one way or another in the situation.

[littledaydreamers]

Kai’s smirk faltered the second he saw the shift in her expression. He hadn’t expected that. He’d meant to rile her up, to keep their game going, not—whatever this was. Not her shutting down, withdrawing, like he’d just snuffed out the fire between them with a careless flick of his wrist.

His jaw tensed, watching her clutch her jacket, the way her lips pressed together like she was trying to hold back more than just words.

“Pia—” His voice came out rougher than he intended, but she was already looking away, already dismissing him, already convincing herself that this was over. And that—God, that didn’t sit right with him.

Before she could take a step, he reached for her wrist again, this time gentler, more deliberate. “That’s not what I meant.” A sigh left him, low and sharp, like he hated having to say this out loud. “You think I don’t—” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose. His grip tightened just slightly, not enough to keep her there if she really wanted to go, but enough to make her listen.

“I don’t want her, you've got to know that” he admitted, quieter now, but no less intense. “We've been playing these games all night. I don’t get jealous. I don’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, looking away for half a second before locking his gaze back onto hers, something raw flickering beneath the frustration. “But then you make an appearance here in this shitty little club where you clearly stand out, and suddenly, I’m throwing punches in bars and watching every move you make like a fucking idiot.”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his grip on her wrist loosened, fingers dragging down her arm before dropping away completely. His expression hardened again, but not before she caught the ghost of something else—something vulnerable, something unguarded.

“So yeah. Go back inside if that's what you want. Go find someone else to dance with.” He tilted his head slightly, dark eyes scanning her face like he memorised it. “But don’t stand here and act like it's not you that I want to take home with me tonight. That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”

of course he was going to twist it to his advantage. couldn't just outwardly admit that he was envious about the fact that she was close to another male, and that she let him kiss her as well. the fact was pia was a pretty confident person, she knew she was fortunate to be graced with good looks and she was content in herself and her own skin, however kai definitely made that waver.

the fact was, his comment didn't make her want to go out there and kiss someone else just to see if he was bluffing, oh no, it made her feel withdrawn instead. he'd officially put a stop to their little game in one fleeting sentence and he didn't even realise it. now she felt dejected and not to mention that she was even more furious with him than she was earlier, which she didn't think was possible.

"oh okay.. fine, have it your way.. you hit him because he was an asshole, right.. cos he was dancing with me, because you didn't seem to know him so that's not a very credible answer. but i am done, kai.. made it clear that i'm not exactly desireable anymore, so i'll save myself embarassment and quit while i'm ahead, hmm?"

she curved her jacket over her arm, her nostrils flaring with clear irritation as she looked away from him for a moment, lips pursed.

"have fun with your peppy little date over there."

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles