#I never let their words get to me at the time because I liked myself and never wanted to change myself

[connorsui]

"Talking about ...you"

“Do you see ...her?” he begins, his voice low, almost reverent, as if afraid his words might shatter the moment he gestures toward her, where she stands with her back to him, the soft curve of her shoulder catching the light. “Look at her. Everything she does—it’s not just living; it’s art.”

He exhales slowly, shaking his head as if the weight of his feelings is too much to hold inside. “You don’t get it. It’s not just about the way she looks, though God knows she’s breathtaking. It’s… everything. The way she tilts her head when she’s thinking, the way her laughter sounds like it was made just to pull me out of the darkest corners of myself. Every time she smiles, it’s like the world pauses—just for her.”

He glances at him then, his eyes bright, his tone more insistent. “I’ve memorized her, you know. Every little thing. The way she brushes her hair behind her ear, the way her hands move when she talks, the way she says my name. She doesn’t even realize the power she has over me. I crave her, not just physically, but... spiritually. Her existence—it’s everything. She could be across the room, or on the other side of the world, and I’d still feel her. Like she’s tethered to me, like every breath I take is because she’s somewhere out there, breathing too.”

He looks back at her, his expression softening, his voice quieter now. “You think I’m exaggerating? That I’ve just romanticized her into some unreachable thing? You’re wrong. She’s as real as it gets. Flawed, messy, and human—but that’s what makes her perfect. She’s not just someone I love. She’s the reason I believe love exists at all.”

He pauses, his jaw tightening slightly, his words filled with an almost desperate honesty. “I know it sounds like too much. Like no one could be that important. But when you find someone like her—someone whose very existence makes you feel like the luckiest man alive—how could you ever let that go? She’s everything I never knew I needed. And I’ll never stop craving her. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next.”

The man: Sylus, Ekko, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Nikto, Keegan, Nanami Kento, Higuruma Hiromi, Gojo Satoru, Erwin, Levi Ackerman, Zayne, Xavier, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Dabi, Katsuki, Halsin, Aemond Targaryen

[kaelidascope]

On one hand, I'm relieved to see that it isn't just me suffering in the engagement department whereas I used to get flooded with comments and the like every time I dropped something. It isn't the only reason why I've moved from fanfic work to original work, but it is part of it. The last round of engagement on the latest MM chapter was abysmal, and while I know it's not a reflection of my quality in writing, I kept beating myself up over the possibility that I took too long to update it and people gave up on it/forgot/fell out of love with my work because I as a creator was not performing good enough. It drove me into a bit of a depression for a while.

On the other hand, this is making me rethink my stance on never telling my favorite authors how much they have inspired me to take off with my writing career. This is going to get a little lengthy but I want to talk about it so bear with me here.

Closed circles know how much of an insane, unhinged fan I am of certain writers, yet I have never actually said a word to them. I think I left one comment on maybe two fics that went unanswered (which is fine. They're not active in the fandoms I'm in anymore and I'm just some guy out of probably hundreds all saying the same thing. They're not gonna reply to me) but apart from that, you wouldn't catch me dead actually admitting how much the works mean to me. But why?

I guess I was far too proud and too terrified of being let down if I exposed myself like that. Despite the fact that these authors were literal catalysts for borderline impossible feats I have done within the last year, WELL RECEIVED FEATS at that, I swore I'd never tell anyone how inspiring they were for me. (Unless a casual friendship has been established. I have had the tremendous honor to able to talk to some of my inspirations one on one but under incredibly lucky circumstances)

I had a scenario in my head that these were the cool kids, and if you ever got picked on at all for admiring anything, you know damn well you never tell the cool kids about your admiration. I was afraid that they'd take one look at the work that was inspired by theirs and laugh at it in their enclosed circles. I wasn't going to risk having my confidence crushed and lose the motivation to continue working on my projects by being a fan.

I know not all authors do this. Every time someone comes to me and tells me I've inspired them to be a better writer, I literally frame it in a collection of screenshots I have saved on a hard drive. Every. Single. Time. And I know anyone else would tell me that if the person I admire would actually be cruel enough to mock an up and coming writer, then they're not worth admiring. Which I agree with! But try telling that to sensitive little Kaeli that safeguards their interests with the fiery defensiveness of a feral bear on cocaine.

But then I see posts like this, and I put myself in their shoes. I don't know them. They could be a jackass but they could also be like me - someone who bases a lot of motivation for project completion based off of whether or not people even care to see it completed.

This is all a very long, round about away to say that who cares if the author you build a mini-shrine for in your brain thinks your cringe for liking their work? Odds are they probably need to hear that you liked it so much, it inspired you to do something with that feeling. We all need to hear it. They inspired you and now you're making something that will inspire someone else. To be a creator is to share that passion everywhere you go. There's nothing cringe about it.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[kabuki-writes]

And All Eyes Were Set On Brutus

chapter: 3 chapter 1 | 2

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: After their visit of the Colosseum, Marcus Acacius worries even more about his beloved daughter. Meanwhile a dangerous rumor finds its way into the Emperor's ears.

warning(s): NSFW | mention of violence | mention of alcohol | swearing | sexual implications | semi-edited | english is not my first language, faults may occur | please let me know if i missed anything

Note: Thank you all for your ongoing support and your comments on my previous chapters✨🙇‍♀️! I really enjoy to write this fic as a Geta and Cara stan myself and it honors me that you continue to share your love for these two and this fic. I really hope you like this chapter as well, because this time it gets a little more... spicy.🌶️

word count: 3.6k

Rome was becoming nothing more than a painful cage for General Acacius. From the very first day he had to wear the white armor of victory, he felt like a slave with no other choices than to watch how everything he had known changed for the worse. He despised himself for not being able to protect his own daughter from the eyes of the Emperors, that were now set on her. He should've never taken her with him, he should've sticked with his principles. But then again, what choice did he even have, when he faced an order by the most powerful men in the world.

There was no chance to defy them openly, speaking up now would bring danger to his whole family as they would have to face the consequences of Marcus Acacius' actions. He wasn't so delusional and naive to think that the anger of the Emperors would only befall him alone, no, they weren't like that. So when the day came and a senator stepped forward to the General, he hesitated. Geta and Caracalla were beloved by the people as they gave them victories, bread and games - as long as the plebs had that, no one gave a damn about who sat on top. For them it was all the same, but the senate was different.

After the death of Emperor Commodus, the senate reestablished the Roman Republic, but wasn't able to secure their power. Many cities and regions took their chance to rebel against Rome as most of the generals refused to serve the new order - that included Marcus Acacius as well, who quickly sided with his old friend and brother-in-arms Septimius Severus, the father of the now ruling Emperors Geta and Caracalla. They took their legions and marched on Rome, where Severus took the power from the senate again only one year after the rebirth of the Republic. Acacius did believe in Severus, he did believe in the vision his friend had for Rome as well as his strength and wisdom as Emperor. Nearly two decades he was not disappointed while he served his old friend as a close advisor and his first general.

The senate got reduced to nothing more than a theater stage, with no real power or influence. And Acacius was sure that they would forever hate him for the service he did to Severus. Yet men like Gracchus must've sensed that the general was getting more and more delusional given the current reign of the twins. So the politicians approached him carefully and together they formed an alliance in the shadows. Their plan: Overthrowing the two Emperors and install the Republic again. Acacius stood never on the side of the senate... but nothing was as terrible as Geta's and Caracalla's tyranny. And if that is a way to protect his daughter and his family from them, he happily claimed himself a Roman Republican now.

Coming from one of his nightly visits at senator Gracchus' home, Acacius noticed that there was someone still sitting in the inner garden of his Roman city residence. He took off his cloak and approached you slowly as you watched the turtles in the small pond between the plants and flowers, while the water of a small fountain rippled in the silence. "Your mother told me, that you were sitting here the whole day", he said with a low tone, careful not to scare you with his sudden appearence, before he took a seat right next to you on the stone bench. When he watched your face, he saw all the thoughts that were probably going through your head after the situation in the Collosseum yesterday. For a long moment, the two of you simply sat in silence, while one of the turtles walked along a mosaic before it fell into the water.

"I am not a child anymore, i don't want you or mother to protect me any longer", you suddenly whispered, before your head turned to your father. In your eyes he saw how you struggled to maintain your neutrality as you faced the danger that may come over you, if you'd accept this new attention further. "And yet i don't know how to deal with... them? I suppose i cannot refuse any of this?" Your question carried a sense of pain, because you already knew the answer and it was equally as hard for your father to shake his head in response.

"I thought so...", you mumbled and leaned forward give one of the turtles a leaf of salad you had snached from the dinner table earlier. Acacius had seen many battles and many terrible things, but nothing was harder than to see you like this. And nothing was harder than to feel helpless. All he could do was laying his hand softly and reassuring on your shoulder.

„You’re my daughter, y/n. And you’re right, even if I want it to, I can not protect you anymore… all I can promise you, that it is going to be alright."

He searched for a way to fix all of this, even though he couldn't tell you how. It was better this way as it would only drag you deeper into the dead end that your own father had already set up. The mere thought about it made his heart grow even more painful.

"Do you regret it sometimes?", you suddenly asked, looking at the vibrant clear water of the pond. "What do you mean?"

"That you marched with Emperor Severus back then?"

This question wasn't easy to answer, it was written on Acacius face, as he turned his face to the turtles and sighed.

"I did believe in Severus... i still do. Under him, Rome was able to secure itself and become strong again. What comes after that now - only time will tell. But what i know is that i have to leave in a few weeks with my troups again. An order of the Emperors."

It wasn't a particular surprising news, but nonetheless your fingers digged themselves into the fabric of your toga-like blue dress, while you still hept your head high. Despair was no useful emotion and not a good thought right now. You needed to stay calm, stick to yourself and find a way on how to deal with all of the things that were happening. As you'd said you were no child anymore - you will find a way out if this, even without your father.

You didn't say a word in response, however you closed your arms around him as the fear that with him being gone it could get even worse, lingered on your mind. Little did you know that the world you had known was already on the brink of falling apart.

_____________________________________________

The smell of incence, wine, sweet perfume and sweat filled the rooms of Emperor Caracalla's chambers, while naked bodies moved themselves to the rythm of a small group of musicians. The melodies of their instruments mixed themselves with the moans of the men and women in ecstacy, the worshippers of Bacchus - god of wine, euphoria and madness. Drinking and making love was the way they prayed nearly every night as Caracalla found in it a way to escape the reality that almost drove him crazy. Here in his chambers, the only Emperor that mattered was him, the only word that was heard was his own. At least one small realm for himself, while he had to share the rest of the world with his twin brother.

But it was different this time, when he stared at the scenery with a mind clouded in intoxication. His breaths went ragged, while he sat on a bed decorated with velvet cushions, a young man kneeled between his legs and sent him to elysium with his tongue, while he was surrounded by beautiful slaves, women with golden chains, that decorated their naked breasts and hips. And yet even in a scenery like this, where he usually found a way to calm his restless mind, he was still thinking about her. Not only her, sadly - that goddamn General was another thought. The hero of Rome was no pleasant figure for him anymore, he was nothing more than a Brutus, but Caracalla was not the one to end up like Julius Caesar.

The mere thought of killing this treacherous son of a whore hit Caracalla's brain and made him cum into the mouth of the slave that had his dick deep in his throat. This peak of his pleasure would've helped him to relax if not one of the praetorian guards stepped in and walked with his black and lilac amror through the voyeristic scenery like it was a halluzination in front of the Emperor's eyes. Without a second thought, Caracalla simply pushed the young slave, who was still sitting at his feet, to the side and stood up. His hand quickly grabbed the white toga that layed on the floor which he threw over his own naked, pale body. "Why do you disturb me!?", he hissed, as if he wasn't already expecting him.

The soldier ignored the music, the slaves that layed on the ground and fucked each other, just as he ignored the half-naked Emperor right in front of him, who still wore his golden laurel crown and his jewelries. "Emperor Geta waits for you."

For a moment, the young man with the gingerblonde hair stared at his guard, before he nodded quickly, as if it got him out of a daydream. "Yes, yes i will come to him, i am right there, tell him that. And get that slave Marcellus here," he answered, hand waving him away before his tone shifted and he screamed at his 'guests'. "Get out, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! NOW!" The music stopped immediately and all eyes were set on Caracalla, while the first slaves already got to their feet again. „NOW,“ he repeated in a louder and added in a hissing tone „…or I will claim your tongue with a dagger!“

Caracalla was impossible to read fully, just as he was impulsive. It would’ve not been the first time one participant of this nightly debaucheries had lost his tongue or another part of his body.

_____________________________________________

Emperor Geta waited in his embroidered night robe, which was half open, exposing his bare and pale chest. Sitting on a cushioned wooden chair, he stared with tired eyes out the window of the balcony, the darkness of Rome in front of him. Just as his brother he had someone in his chambers, but instead of a whole horde of slaves he had chosen one good whore with hairs that reminded him of you. It was just a dull replacement, he knew that, yet it was enough for a good fuck before he would’ve went to sleep.

If there was not his twin brother, who‘d call for him in the middle of the goddamn night. By the gods he hated to be disturbed like that, especially after countless of times his brother got him here only to share uninteresting - sometimes even paranoid - gossip with him, which Caracalla had heard from the mouth of one of his slaves.

When the curtains of the attached room opened and Geta saw his brother entering with his wild hair and only with a toga over his bare body, his nose twitched in anger. „Don‘t tell me you disturbed my sleep and called for my immediate coming while you were fucking whores at your damn orgy!? When you’re telling me that your problem is, that you can’t sleep now, I will cross you myself!“ Yes, it wasn’t the first time Caracalla had called him for such nonesense. And usually Geta had a lot of patience with him, given his psychological condition, but not tonight.

Caracalla stopped in an instant and looked at his brother with big eyes as if he tries to convince him that he wasn’t guilty of anything. „Yes, but- I had a reason for that!“ he insisted, which only fueled Geta's anger. „Lucinius, bring us the slave!“ Caracalla quickly said and the Praetorian guard who just had informed him about his brother came in with a skinny, yet tall young man. He was a slave but given the clothes he wore, it was clear that he had a higher rank within the household he was serving in.

„Who is that, one of your toy boys?“ Geta asked, eying the stranger he‘d never seen before. But Caracalla shook his head and stepped forth to place his hand on the shoulder of that slave.

„No! He is a slave from the household of senator Gracchus,“ he explained and couldn’t hide an almost devilish smile as this said slave was here for one reason alone - to tell them everything. „Marcellus, tell him,“ he ordered and whispered into his ear. „I promised you your freedom and a good amount of gold, to return to your family. You want to see your daughter again, right? So don’t disappoint me now.“ With those words he stepped back for a moment, giving the slave a moment to breath as he seemingly tried to find the right words. He was nervous, the way his fingers twitched and his eyes were glued to the marble ground under his feet.

"I... i am a servant in the household of senator Gracchus for nearly a decade now", Marcellus began and forced himself to look up into the testing eyes of Geta, who was growing more impatient with each second passing. "The General... General Acacius as well as a couple of other senators visit my master regularly in the middle of the night and they always retreat into a secret room in the cellar of his villa."

With an amused whistle Geta interrupted him. "Why should we care for the sexual escapades of a group of old men?", he hissed, but Caracalla threw in with a darkened shimmer in his eyes. "Wait for it, you will be furious, trust me! Continue."

Marcellus needed a second to calm himself down and stop to shake as he formed his next words. "When i brought them wine once, they stopped with their conversation as long as i stayed in the room, but when i was in the corridor, they spoke again. They didn't know that i was still there, so i just listened and- it was clear that they questioned you, my Emperors. They questioned your leadership and the general - i wouldn't dare to speak out loud such a blasphemy against your rule, if it was not what i've heard with my own ears."

Geta's face darkened with every new information Marcellus was telling him and slowly he realized why his brother was so eager to get him here. The laugh of his twin filled the room, which turned hysterical. "Tell him, Marcellus!"

"General Acacius and the senators Gracchus, Livinidus, Galba and Erebus plan to overthrow you with the legions that are under Acacius' command," he said and had to force every word out of his mouth, afraid of the anger that cooked like a vulcano in Geta. His hands formed fists and he bit his tongue. All this time, Acacius - the hero - was a traitor, a Brutus. And now he connected the dots, thinking about every time this General wined about going off to war. This maggot.

"And this is true!?", he asked in a loud, demanding tone. "If that is a lie, we will punish you in the most terrible ways you could imagine and feed you to the lions in the Colosseum!" Marcellus eyes were filled with tears of fear, yet he shook his head heavily.

"No, please! I speak the truth, i swear it! I swear it in front of Jupiter himself, please, you must believe me! I came to Emperor Caracalla, who promised me my freedom if i tell it here again. It is no lie!"

"Kill him", Geta ordered in a cold tone and before Marcellus could even scream, it was the blade of the Praetorial Guard that cut his head off from behind, making it fall to the ground like a ball of bones and meat, followed by his body. Under the resounding laugh of Caracalla, Geta ordered the Guard to leave them so that he could speak to his brother in private.

"You just read my mind, dear brother! I wouldn't have let him go either", Caracalla sang. "We should kill them all, that bastard Acacius and his old senate sluts! Let's cut off their heads and spike them on the Palatin for all to see!"

But Geta was already two steps ahead when he closed the distance between him and his twin. Yes, he was furious, it took him all restraints to not give in the urge of ordering their murder. "No," he said, which drew a questioning look on his brothers face.

"What no?! Those are traitors, TRAITORS! You've heard the same things i did!?"

"I did, but the senators are no danger. These old men talk about the republic which is nothing more than dust and ashes! A faded dream and without any backing, they just continue to shit themselves in the senate. When our father took Rome, the people cheered to him, because they didn't want a Republic but a strong Emperor to guide them, remember? The head of the snake is Acacius! He must die, and he will die, but not yet!", Geta started and turned to the balcony, leaving his brother for a moment as he stood in the darkness with his his white toga. "We need his legion, and we will make him our fucking dog, who has no chance to ever decline any order of us, if we have his beloved daughter. If he doesn't do as we say, then she will die."

But he will, Geta knew that. Nothing seemed to be more precious in Acacius' life than his family and especially his dear daughter. And this whole situation had a bonus for Geta, because when he turned to face Caracalla again, he announced. "I will force him with an order to marry his daughter to me!"

Caracalla froze in place, his eyes staring at his brother as if he just had a bad dream. "What?", he simply asked again, while his brother's anger turned into anticipation. "With a marriage we bind her to our reign and therefore we will bind the General. Acacius delivers us his own daughter and his own head on a silver tablet with his treacherous nonsense!"

Geta wanted to place his hands on his twin's shoulders, but Caracalla slapped them out of his way. "I don't accept this! NO! I DON'T ACCEPT THIS!", he screamed at him, which really irritated his twin. "Why can't I be the One to marry her!?"

There it was. For the first time, the twins revealed in front of each other that they longed for the same girl. And that made it complicated. Nonetheless Geta was still confused, why his brother reacted like that, so he reminded him of what Caracalla said all those years.

"You never wanted to marry? How many times did you told our father before he died? Every time he said to us, that we would need to find ourselves someone to take as a wife, you refused. You were too busy indulging in your late night activities and Bacchus rituals."

He stepped forward with an intense glaze in his eyes. This way of being instructive, while Caracalla was still his twin and technically even older than him, made his brother's mouth twitch in response to his next words. "May i remind you about the fact that i am the one of us dealing with most of the political responsibilities, because you always wanted to stick to your fun."

Those words were indeed true, as Caracalla hated those senate discussions, which lead to nothing and were only for show - an illusion for both the plebs and the upper-classes. Geta continued, but not without making clear that he saw himself worthier of you being his wife, bound in front of the gods. "All of that is fine, brother. I've always protected you from the boring senators and hypocrites of the Roman elite, while you collected the most beautiful slaves and enjoyed yourself. You have no duties, as long as i take them off your shoulders and finally shut up all the people, finally demanding a royal marriage after all those years. And given all of that, i do think i deserve to marry before you to present Rome an Empress."

Caracalla stared at him, straight into the eyes of his twin Geta and his fingers twitched. If he would just have a dagger now? But he had none right here and given the fact that his brother was always taller and stronger with his statue, it wouldn't make sense to start a fight. In fact he couldn't even argue against him, as it was true, he was never an Emperor that bothered himself with any political nonesense. Yet he couldn't shake off the urge to kill Geta for this. Again, he took a thing from him he wanted to own for himself - only for himself. Even though his twin showed his goodwill, as he always did. His hands layed itself on Caracalla's cheeks and he gave him a brotherly kiss on the forehead. "Don't worry, dear brother. I am not above sharing her divine presence with you. But she will always be my wife," he whispered, followed by a smile on his lips.

With those words he simply turned and left the room, leaving Caracalla, who was still wearing his white toga over his naked body, as well as the body of Marcellus alone in the dark. His mind got corrupted with so many thoughts in this very moment, but the most prominentely thought was anger. So he screamed hysterically and grabbed the table that stood at the side to throw it down, taking the vase on top and hurled it straight through the room, followed by the head of that damn slave. He hated Geta. He hated him so much and still they had shared the whomb of their mother, which made them share the same blood.

How long would he be able to hold the urge to murder his own brother - especially now as Geta claimed you?

_____________________________________________

Tags:

quuinyoung koshkahhh mmkkzz analves pandora-journey ange-olras tellynojelly targwh0re h3k3t onelemonoat whitenoise808 spooky-cupid dev1lbella onelemonoat hawraa-alzubaidi omg-hellgirl the-holy-pigeon

[mattsnight]

Summary: in which Chris can’t hide his feelings for Y/N any longer.

Warnings: cursing !!

WC: 5k+++

Chris hated how he felt for you. The extreme feelings were overwhelming and it was hard keeping them together. He couldn’t live like this. He couldn’t live knowing you were his best friend and that nothing would ever happen with the two of you.

You were always the clingy kind of type. You couldn’t be alone for more than 24 hours and always had to be with someone who you loved. Most of the times it was Chris, which he didn’t mind at first, but when his feelings for you started, it all became a lot.

You came over to the triplets’ house today, since Chris hasn’t been answering your calls. You were really worried about him. When you walked into the house you were met with an angry Chris. He didn’t want you here at all. He didn’t want to talk. It hurt him to do this shit to you, but he needed these feelings gone. And there it was, he was bottling up all his feelings and is now taking it out on you.

“Jesus what the fuck is wrong with you?” You say to Chris as he just ignored you when you tried giving him a simple hug. He never did this, he would always hug you even when he was annoyed. He lets out a huff, rubbing his eyes as he glances in your direction.

"Me? Nothing is wrong with me, I'm absolutely fine. It's you, you're just always around being clingy, I can't even breathe without you being all over me. Seriously, do you have to be so clingy? Give me a break every once in a while," Chris bites back with a roll of his eyes. A small gasp leaves your mouth at his sudden anger. “What the hell happened to you, chris? At first you’re all nice and sweet to me and now you’re acting like a huge dick.”

Chris grits his teeth, turning to look you in the eyes a lot sharper than usual. "So now it's wrong that I've decided to give myself a break from your clinginess? Is that a crime now?" He quips, raising a brow at you unimpressed. "God, you're always so needy, you can't even go half a day without wanting my attention. Have you ever considered that maybe I'd want alone time?”

“I was giving you one hug, chris. I wasn’t sat on your lap touching your chest while waiting for you to fuck me!” You yell back, anger now running through your body. Chris is visibly taken aback by your words, the harsh bite of them makes his chest ache, but he can't focus on that right now. He lets out an annoyed huff, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. "You always hug me!" He points out, throwing his arms out. "Like, it's never just one hug, you're always all over me, no matter if we're alone or in public. It's like you can't stand the thought of not being attached to me or something!"

“Im not always hugging you! I was so excited to see you, is one hug that bad?” You say, running your hands through your hair. "And there it is again, the excuses!" Chris exclaims in annoyance. "You're always all over me, you've gotta touch me. You know I'm not the biggest fan of physical touch, so why are you always so clingy with me, huh, can you answer that?" He asks, raising a brow at you with an expectant expression on his face.

“Because we’re friends? Cus i enjoy being with you? Because maybe im trying to get our friendship back!” Yeah, that one hurt. It had been a while since you and Chris had hung out. At first you thought it was because he got a girlfriend, but he didn’t, Nick told you that.

"And you need to cling to me to do that? You need to be attached to me at all times to do that, is that it?" Chris asks, clearly still frustrated and a little on edge. "It's annoying. I'm allowed to want my own goddamn space every once in a while, why's that so hard for you to understand? I just want a little space to breathe, alone, without having you sticking yourself to me like glue."

Fuck, why did it have to go like this? You hated this and you knew he did too. There was hurt smashed on both of your faces, but the both of you didn’t stop. “Then tell me to shut up, leave and never come back!” You say, a voice crack slipping through. Chris's eyes widen slightly, his mouth going slightly agape at your words, his heart beating loud in his chest. He did not see that coming. "What?" He asks, a hint of surprise sneaking into his voice. “Tell me to leave, end our friendship and do whatever the fuck you want without me.” You repeat with a voice crack.

Chris's jaw clenches, his chest feels tight and his stomach sinks at your words. Every fibre of his being wanted to scream at you to shut up, to stay with him forever. He did not want you gone, but for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to tell you. "I don't want-" he tries to protest, swallowing hard and averting his gaze. "I don't want that."

“Then what do you want, Chris?!”

"You!" His eyes widen the moment the word escapes his mouth, he didn't mean to say that, he meant to say anything other than that. He clamps his mouth shut, staring at you with a mix of shock and frustration. “What?” You say quietly, not believing that you heard him right.

"I- nothing, I... nothing, forget I said that," he runs his fingers through his hair, cursing himself inwardly. This did not get better. "I just... I think, maybe, we should just have some time apart for a while. Take some space, I'll be fine without you glued to my side, you'll be fine without me around all the time." His voice stays the same, not even a slight change.

“You said me.. chris.. what does that mean?”

"I said nothing, alright?" Chris snaps, trying to cover up his slip of the tongue, but it was too late. He couldn't lie his way out of this now. He lets out a huff, scrubbing his face with his hand, looking at you with a frustrated expression on his face. "Damnit... you weren't supposed to hear that."

You take a small step back at his snap. It wasn’t because you were scared, you wanted to give him space. His expression softens just the slightest as he sees you take a step back, his heart panging in his chest as he registers the hurt in your eyes. He shakes his head in defeat. "No, I... Damnit, I can't... Look, I can't do this right now." He runs a hand through his hair again, turning his back to you and walking a few moments. Clearly he was frustrated and upset about the whole situation. “Chris—“ you try, but he doesn’t want to talk.

"Just don’t." He bites, his voice low as he keeps his back turned to you. He clearly wasn't in the mood to keep the conversation going. He was upset, and in pain, and he knew he was hurting you as well. He didn't want to hurt you, but he knew he was, and that was so much worse in his mind. “Please just talk to me, Chris. I want to understand what is going on.”

"What is there to talk about, huh?" Chris turns to look at you again, eyes sharp and his muscles coiled tight with tension. "What are we supposed to talk about? I said something I wasn't supposed to, I can't take it back, so what do you want me to say? I don't want to talk about it, not like this, not right now."

He is still staring at you, his expression pained and frustrated. It was like he was trying to hold back so many things, trying desperately to keep them all at bay and yet they were so obvious on his face. "And what was that little stunt anyway, huh? Trying to get a reaction out of me, is that it? Well great, you got one. You did what you set out to do, I screwed up. I said something I shouldn't have said. Happy?"

Your eyes start filling up with pain. It wasn’t your intention to do this. You didn’t mean any of it, you just wanted a reason why you’re losing your best friend. Chris's heart clenches within his chest at the sight of your hurt expression. The sharp pang of guilt and regret hits him hard, but it doesn't stop him from continuing. "You wanted a reaction, and you got it. I'm human. Do you think you can just prod and poke at me all the time and I won't snap back?" He bites, narrowing his eyes at you despite the panging in his heart. “Im sorry, okay?…” you say.

"You're sorry, is that it? You're sorry?” Chris snaps, taking a step closer as he towers over you. His face is a mixture of anger and pain, despite the growing guilt at the expression on your face. “You're sorry? Great, that just fixes everything, doesn't it? You didn't mean to make me snap, didn't mean to prod and poke at me until I exploded, but that's fine because you're sorry now, right?" All his anger is aimed at you when you just tried to fix something broken. You don’t dare to speak, scared you’ll ruin it even more.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I thought," he continues, his voice still sharp and bitter. "You can apologise all you want but it's not gonna change the fact that you got exactly what you wanted out of me. You pushed me to the limit, and you got a reaction. So don't bother apologising, it's too late for that." He says, letting out a frustrated huff while scrubbing his face with his hand as anger and guilt clash together in his mind. He wants to yell at you, wants to scream at you and let it all out, but at the same time the sight of your hurt expression is killing him. "Goddamnit.." he mutters under his breath, running his fingers roughly through his hair.

“I should go home.. this isn’t gonna work.” You finally say, breaking the silence. "Yeah... maybe you should," Chris responds, but the moment the words escape his mouth he wishes he could take them back. His heart is panging against his chest, his stomach clenches with guilt at the idea of you leaving. He didn't want you to go anywhere, he wanted to talk to you, he wanted you to not look so hurt and upset, but he'd gone and made it all worse in his anger.

You grab your bag quickly after his respond, ready to leave. Chris can’t take this anymore, he needs to make this right. He needs to talk to you. His heart drops to his stomach as you reach for your bag, the reality of the situation hitting him hard as he watches you get ready to leave. "Just... just wait," he says suddenly, the words slipping out before he can even think about it. "Please don't go. I... shit.”

He falters, his breath catching as he tries to find the right words. "I... look, just... just sit down, alright?" He asks, his voice suddenly much softer and more vulnerable than before. He wanted you to stay. He couldn't stand the thought of you leaving right now, he needed you to stay. He swallows hard, forcing out the next words as his heart pounds in his chest. "Please just... just sit down. We need to talk, not like this. Just... just sit down and listen to me. Please."

“Why does this all have to be so difficult?” You ask, sitting down on the couch to listen to him. "I don't know!" Chris exclaims, frustration and annoyance rising in his voice again. Why does it have to be so difficult? He should've just kept his mouth shut in the first place, he'd made a huge mess and he knew it. "I don't know why it has to be so... so difficult." He repeats, softer this time. "I don't... I just don't know." He scrubs his face with his hand, gritting his teeth and taking a deep, calming breath.

“What happened between us?” You ask, wanting answers. Chris's heart pang's in his chest again at your question. A million answers could've come to his mind, but he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. Instead, he clenches his jaw, sighing deeply and shaking his head. "I don't know," he repeats again, his frustration growing. "I... I don't know, things just... changed."

He runs his fingers through his hair, raking his brain for the right words to say, the right way to explain things without saying too much. "I can't explain it. Things just... look, it's just so complicated." He glances at you, his expression a mixture of pain and confusion. He looks away again quickly, sighing heavily and shaking his head. "Things just aren't how they used to be. Something changed... and it's all wrong now."

“Does it have anything to do with you saying that you want.. me?”

Chris visibly tenses, his breathing catching in his chest as the memory of his earlier words comes back to him. He swallows hard and nods, his heart thudding against his ribcage. "Yeah," he mutters, his voice strained. "It has... everything to do with that." He says before looking up at you again, his expression pained and his eyes full of anguish. "You weren't supposed to hear that," he explains, his voice cracking slightly. "I didn't... I didn't mean for you to hear that. I didn't want you to know."

“But you said it, what does it mean?”

Chris takes a deep breath, his heart thudding so hard in his chest it's all he can hear. He knew he was in too deep now, there was no backing out. "It means exactly what you think it means," he mutters, his voice low and heavy. "I... I want you. I want you." He couldn't believe the words were coming out of his mouth, but now they were out there in the open and he couldn't take them back. His eyes search your face, looking for a reaction, a response, any sign of how you felt at his words, but he couldn't find it. "I... I want you," he repeats, his voice hoarse and raw with emotion. "I've wanted you for a long time, and it's been killing me. I... I've messed it up, I know I've messed it up and I can't take it back, but it's the truth. I want you. I need you."

“Jesus christ, Chris.. we could’ve talked about this sooner without that arguing.” You groan as waves of mixed feelings wash over you. Chris lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he runs his hands through his hair again. "You think I wanted to argue with you? This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. I didn't want to deal with this, I didn't want to admit this." He sighs deeply, his heart panging in his chest as he meets your gaze. "I'm an idiot," he mutters, his voice quiet. "I just ruined everything, didn't I?"

“No chris— god.. i am in love with you too.”

Chris's heart stops in his chest, his breath catching in his throat as your words wash over him, a rush of emotions surging through him at your confession. His eyes widen, his heart thudding so hard against his ribcage he's sure you can hear it. He just stares at you for a moment, like his brain isn't quite comprehending what he's just heard. "You... what?" He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you, chris..” you say. Those three words hit Chris like a ton of bricks, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending his heart into overdrive. He didn't think he'd ever hear those words from anyone, especially not from you. His expression softens, a mix of surprise and wonder and disbelief on his face as he takes a cautious step towards you, like he's afraid he might shatter whatever fragile dream he's suddenly found himself in. "You... you mean that?" He asks, his voice hoarse and low.

“Yes! I have for a long time, but i didn’t know how to feel when you just.. stopped talking to me.”

A wave of emotions washes over Chris at your words. Relief, joy, disbelief, excitement. He swallows hard, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes another step closer to you. "You... you love me?" He repeats, his voice a little shaky as he tries to process everything. "You love me?" He takes one more step towards you, his expression full of hope and awe. You look up at him, noticing he was already staring at you. His blue eyes are searching your face for any sign of dishonesty or deception. Instead, all he sees is love, and a whole lot of it. His heart is beating so hard in his chest it physically hurt, but he didn't care. All he could see was you, and the fact that you just confessed to loving him. He reaches out hesitantly, slowly putting a hand on your waist, like he's afraid you'll vanish if he moves too quickly.

And there it was, the kiss you’ve both longed for. It feels like a switch is flipped inside the two of you. Like you’re finally free. Your hands move to his cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer. His hands move to your ass, letting them rest there. Everything is how it’s supposed to be.

When the kiss finally breaks, Chris's expression is a mixture of wonder and shock, like he can't believe that just actually happened. His heart is pounding in his chest, his brain struggling to process what's just happened. He couldn't believe that you actually wanted him, that you loved him. He lets out a breathless laugh, his face still so close to yours that he can feel your breath on his face. “Shit that was so good.” He says, trying to get some air. Oh and it was good.

It was the best kiss you’ve ever had.

The end<3

Oh my god why is this sooo long :,) i hope yall liked it!

[daisymbin]

hii!! It's my first time requesting but I really love your works!! Can I request 8 and 29 from the angst prompts with Vernon?? Thank you!!

hello!! thank you for requesting & your kind words!! 🫶

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // hansol's m.list

angst prompt #8: "was anything real between us?" +

angst prompt #29: "stop pretending you care."

the silence was unbearable. you had texted him every day since you last saw him, the messages slowly piling up without a reply. hansol had always been distant at times, but this... this felt different. no casual texts, no updates, nothing. you tried calling. nothing.

then seungkwan’s text came through.

“hey, just so you know... hansol’s hurt. he didn’t tell you?”

your heart stopped. you had to get to him. now.

the moment you arrived at hansol’s apartment, the door was cracked open, and you pushed your way inside, breathless and frantic. you found him sitting on the couch, his leg propped up, wrapped in a thick bandage, looking utterly defeated. his usual energy was gone—his eyes hollow and tired.

“hansol!” you rushed over to him, kneeling in front of him. “what happened? why didn’t you tell me? i’ve been worried sick—”

“worried?” he repeated, voice cold. his eyes didn’t meet yours. he kept his gaze fixed on the floor, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “you’re worried? that’s rich.”

your chest tightened at his words, but you pushed forward, trying to stay calm. “of course i was worried. why wouldn’t i be? you’re hurt, and you didn’t say anything. i didn’t even know—”

“yeah, exactly,” he snapped, cutting you off. his voice broke, though he tried to mask it with anger. “you didn’t know. because you never care, do you? you only care when it’s convenient for you.”

you flinched, his words stinging deeper than you wanted to admit. "hansol, what do you mean? i do care. i've always cared."

“stop pretending, alright?” he said bitterly. “stop pretending like you actually care about me. we both know it’s not true. you think i don’t see it? you’ve been keeping me at arm's length this whole time. we were never anything to you.”

the words hit you like a slap in the face. the sting of them burned, but you didn’t pull away. you couldn’t. “that’s not true. i didn’t... i didn’t keep you at arm's length. i didn’t know what you wanted. i thought we were just... having fun, but i care about you more than you think. more than i’ve let myself admit.”

he shook his head, but this time, his eyes flickered with something softer, almost broken. “you never showed it. you always pushed me away when things started getting too close. and now… now you’re here, pretending like you actually give a damn.”

you felt the panic rise in your chest. “it’s not pretending, hansol. it’s not. i care about you. i’ve always cared. i just—i didn’t want to screw this up. i didn’t know what we were, but... i didn’t want to lose you.”

there was a heavy pause. he leaned back, eyes closing for a moment, and the silence between you felt suffocating. “so what? was it all just... just sex to you? nothing more?”

you swallowed, trying to fight the lump in your throat. “no,” you whispered, voice breaking. “it wasn’t. i was just... scared.”

hansol’s hand trembled, and he ran it through his hair, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “we were never anything real, were we? just... some weird thing that we never bothered to define. i don’t even know why i’m so surprised. i should’ve known.”

“no, don’t say that,” you said, your voice rising, desperate. “don’t say we were nothing. don’t say i didn’t care. i was afraid of this... afraid of actually letting myself feel something real. i’m not good at this, hansol. i don’t know how to make you see that i care. i don’t know how to show you without scaring you away.”

he turned his head, locking eyes with you. for a moment, you saw the confusion, the hurt, and the frustration all tangled together. “you think you’re the only one who’s scared? you think i’m just some... some guy who doesn’t feel anything? i don’t know what i’m doing either, okay? but you pushed me away every time i tried to get closer.”

you didn’t know how to fix this, how to take back everything you had pushed aside for so long. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i just didn’t want to make a mistake. but now... now i’m terrified that i already have.”

hansol's expression softened, the anger fading from his eyes. it was still there—lingering, but he was more vulnerable now. more open, somehow. “it’s not too late, you know,” he whispered.

you blinked, unsure of what he meant. “what do you mean?”

he hesitated for a moment, then let out a long sigh, leaning his head back against the couch. “i’m not mad,” he said quietly. “i’m just... i was just hurt. i never wanted to be this guy who pushed you away. i didn’t want to be the one who made you feel like you couldn’t be honest with me.”

“i was scared of losing you,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “i didn’t want to ruin whatever this was between us. but i don’t want to lose you, hansol. i don’t want us to be nothing. i want us to be real.”

his gaze softened, and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes that felt like hope. “you really mean that?”

you nodded. “yeah. i do. i care about you more than you know. and i’m ready to be honest about it.”

he smiled, but it wasn’t the playful grin you were used to. it was different—more genuine, more open. “okay,” he said quietly. hansol shifted forward on the couch, his eyes meeting yours, no longer guarded. “then... be honest with me, okay? let’s stop dancing around it. i’m not asking for anything perfect, just for you to let me in. i want to try—really try.”

you took his hand in yours, squeezing it lightly, your heart pounding. “yeah,” you whispered. “i want to try too.”

he gave you a soft smile, one that made the weight of the last few days lift from your shoulders. “good. because we’ve been going in circles, and i’m tired of it.”

“me too,” you said, the words feeling lighter now.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and then you reached out, touching his hand. this time, he doesn't flick you off.

[grandpeachpersona]

It's A Man's World Chapter 7 (Nice)

Warnings: Flirting slightly, no smut, slow burn, injury (nothing major or no injury to Joe) slight blood mentioned. Lots of Sports talk.

Word Count: 2,930 (Overboard)

A;N Have a Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃🧡

Today is a pivotal day—the last game of the season, and it’s a nail-biter. With a record of 90-75, the stakes couldn't be higher. If we lose, there's still a flicker of hope for a wild card spot. But a victory? That would catapult us straight into the Divisional Championship Game, a dream scenario for any player.

On top of that, I have the incredible opportunity to watch Mr. Joe Cool in action, whom Mia playfully calls my “Future Husband.” Back in college, I was a dedicated fan, never missing a game where he showcased his extraordinary talent. Every time he stepped onto the field, I was mesmerized and captivated by his grace, skill, and looks if you know what I mean.

As I enter Truist Park, an electric energy fills the air. There's a palpable buzz among the fans, an atmosphere that feels almost tangible like anticipation hanging thick and heavy. It's a feeling that's hard to articulate but ignites something deep within me.

Stepping into what could be one of the biggest games of my life, the weight of the moment hangs around me like a cloak. While many might crack under such intense pressure, I choose to thrive in it. The doubters, the naysayers—they only serve to fuel my determination. Their negativity pushes me to dig deeper, to push harder, to give everything I've got. Today is more than just a game; it’s a chance to shine.

The game began on a strong note, with both teams holding their ground during the first couple of innings. Now, we find ourselves at the bottom of the third, and I'm stepping up to bat.

As "Do I Do" by Stevie Wonder plays, I approach home plate with a focused demeanor, considering my options for this at-bat.

Mark Andrew, the pitcher for the Washington Nationals, prepares himself on the mound as my walkout song fades and I assume my batting stance.

He takes a deep breath and delivers his pitch. I notice it's outside the zone, so I refrain from swinging and let the ball pass.

“1 and 0 is the count,” the umpire calls from behind me.

I get myself ready again as he gears up for his next pitch. He winds up and throws once more.

I swing but miss as the curveball passes by.

“Strike!” the umpire shouts.

I nod in acknowledgment and take a step back. That was the pitch I had anticipated; he boasts one of the best curveballs in the league right now.

I step back into the box a raise my bat. ‘Come on, give me something to hit,’ I said in my head

He threw his next pitch, and it all happened so fast. One moment, I was watching the ball being thrown for me to hit, and the next, I found myself on the ground, holding the side of my head because I had just been hit by a baseball. My helmet absorbed most of the impact, but when a baseball comes at you at 95 miles an hour, you definitely feel it.

A gasp swept through the ballpark as the scene unfolded. The catcher immediately waved for a trainer from my dugout before leaning down and putting a hand on my shoulder. “Hey, can you hear me? Are you okay?” he asked.

For some reason, his voice sounded distant, and I couldn't respond. I just nodded, still holding the side of my head. I guess my helmet flew off when I hit the ground.

Soon, the trainer arrived with a towel. “That was a hard hit. Do you think you can roll over?” he asked, but again, his voice sounded muffled. So, I nodded once more, and they helped roll me over.

I groaned in pain as they rolled me onto my back. Finally opening my eyes, the ringing in my ears stopped, and my hearing returned to normal. “Fuck,” I groaned, hoping the microphones on the field didn’t pick it up.

Justin squatted down next to me. “Hey, we need to get you to the trainer's room. That ball got you pretty good.”

Taking in his words, I moved my hands from my face. “Shit,” I gasped as I noticed my glove was stained with more than just dirt; I was busted open.

I managed to sit up while the trainer pressed a towel against my head. Damn, I’d rather be hit with tennis balls than this—at least they had some cushion.

With their help, I slowly got to my feet as a round of applause filled the stadium. This was definitely not how I envisioned my day going.

Unfortunately, I found myself benched after that incident, nursing a fresh set of stitches on my forehead. While I was grateful there was no concussion or major head injury involved—just a wayward pitch that went terribly wrong—I couldn’t help but feel the sting of frustration. Mark was the pitcher, and I held no grudges against him; I knew it wasn’t intentional. Just hours earlier, we’d been laughing and joking around, sharing inside jokes and pre-game camaraderie. But that’s baseball for you; sometimes, in the heat of the moment, a pitcher loses their grip, and you end up taking a hit.

It was the bottom of the ninth inning, with the air crackling with tension. The scoreboard lit up with a nail-biting 3-3 tie. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as two outs hung in the balance. Austin stepped up to the plate, a determined look on his face. My pinch replacement, Tommy Reese, was on deck, stretching and warming up, ready to step in if the situation called for it.

Over at first base, Ronald Acuña Jr. stood poised, his athletic frame ready to explode into action. All Austin needed to do was make solid contact with the ball and drive it into the outfield. With Ronald’s incredible speed, we all knew he could beat the throw home.

As the closer took his position on the mound, I felt my heart racing in sync with the crowd’s energy. He shot a quick glance back at Acuña before winding up to pitch to Austin.

Austin stood firm, carefully checking his swing as the first pitch sailed by—ball one. It was a good start, and my confidence began to build.

I leaned forward, elbows digging into my knees, every muscle in my body tense with expectation. This was it—the moment we had all been waiting for.

The pitcher glanced once more at Ronald, then took a deep breath and delivered the next pitch. It was as if everything slowed down for just a heartbeat. Austin, eyes locked on the ball, swung with ferocity and precision. The crack of the bat echoed like thunder as the ball soared into the air, arcing gracefully toward the outfield. It sailed further and further until it disappeared into the majestic waterfall display at the park.

A walk-off home run! Victory was ours!

The stadium erupted into a wild celebration, a thunderous roar that sent vibrations through the very ground beneath us. It felt as if the entire stands shook with joy and excitement. Everyone from the dugout charged the field, sprinting toward home plate, united in the thrill of triumph as Austin rounded the bases, his expression a blend of disbelief and exhilaration.

I stood just outside the circle, wise enough to be cautious with my stitches, but that didn’t stop me from celebrating with every ounce of energy I had. I cheered and clapped, sharing in the jubilant atmosphere that surrounded me.

We were heading to the NLDS, baby!

As I settled into my seat for the post-game press conference, I offered a soft but warm greeting to the room, a subtle “hello” that echoed in the anticipation-filled space.

One of the reporters, a familiar face I would later come to know as Dave, leaned forward and asked, “Riley, how are you feeling right now?”

I let out a light chuckle, a mix of relief and exhilaration washing over me. “Honestly, I’m feeling great! The adrenaline is really pumping through me right now, so I’m not even feeling this,” I said, gesturing lightly to my head. “But overall, I’m feeling good.”

From the back of the room, a voice rang out, filled with curiosity. “How proud are you of Austin?” A woman inquired, her tone sincere and warm.

A broad smile broke across my face as I thought about my brother. “I’m incredibly proud of him. That’s my twin right there,” I replied, injecting a bit of humor into the moment. It was a playful reference to the nickname we had given each other for our shared last name.

Laughter erupted around the room, lifting the spirits of everyone present. Just as the chuckles faded, another reporter asked, “When you got hurt earlier, the team looked visibly shaken, but they managed to pull themselves together. How do you all stay focused and regain your composure in such moments?”

I took a breath and nodded firmly.

I nodded firmly. “No matter how much I’m hurting or how tough things get for the team, we stand by each other, always. When you train with the same group through the spring and share the field with them through the summer. A strong bond forms. So whether we win or lose, when you underestimate us, we step onto that field and prove that we are just too nice for yall”

“Girl, you okay? I saw you got knocked upside the head,” Mia asked from the other side of the phone on her way home from work.

Leaning my head back against the headrest of the car as Kyle drove to Mercedes-Benz Stadium, I replied, “Sis, I’m cool. I got a few stitches. I'll be fine in a couple of days.”

“Alright, if you say so,” she sighed. “Are you still going to the game?”

“Pulling up to the stadium as we speak,” I responded, looking out the tinted window.

“Alright, be careful; tell Ja’marr and Joe I said hi,” she said.

“Yes, Mom,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “And I will.”

We hung up just as Kyle pulled into the private parking lot. He looked up in the rearview mirror and asked, “Ready?”

“Let’s get this show on the road,” I replied, putting on my shades. He nodded and got out to open the door for me. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” I offered.

He smiled and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. I’m a Cowboys fan anyway,” he said.

I feigned a shocked look. “Wow, I’m hurt, Kyle,” I said, shaking my head.

“Sorry, not sorry,” he replied, getting back into the driver's seat.

As I walked into the stadium, security guards escorted me to a private box. It was about thirty minutes until kickoff, and fans were filling the stands, ready for some Thursday night football.

When I entered the box, I noticed a few women already there. At first, I thought the guard had led me to the wrong room, but they reassured me that I was in the right place and welcomed me in. During our conversation, I quickly learned that they were WAGS.

“So, which one are you here for?” one of the women asked. I learned her name was Emma.

I shook my head. “Oh, I’m not dating anyone on the team. Joe, Ja’marr, and I all went to college together, so I'm just here to watch them.”

Speaking of the devils, there they were, taking the field for pregame warm-ups. My eyes drifted to Joe in his uniform. He really looked good in everything—the way his hair fell perfectly and how his tights gripped his thighs.

Girl, get ahold of yourself.

“You okay?” Lexi asked to my left with a slight chuckle.

“Yep... just great,” I responded, crossing my legs to calm myself down somewhat.

Joe started looking around the stadium until he finally found me. When he did, he tapped Ja’marr on the back, said something in his ear, and pointed up at me.

I waved at both of them, and they waved back before turning their attention back to their warm-ups.

God, help me.

The score was 27-27 in the 4 quarter with just 60 seconds left on the clock and the Bengals had the ball if I know Joe he does not want to take this thing into overtime at all.

I sat there holding my breath as the ball was snapped into Joe's hands he looked around the field before he threw a Hail Mary pass to the in-zone hoping someone would catch it and ill be dammed.

Tee Higgins caught that ball at what was the last possible second to give the Bengals the touchdown.

The stadium goes crazy, and so do I. The Bengals just won the game with that play. There was only time for the kick for the extra point.

As Joe made his way back to the sideline he pointed up to my box with a nod. I nod my head back with a smirk, something we did back in LSU as to say,y ‘Who they think they playing with’

The Bengals walked into Atlanta and got the dub 34-27.

After things calm down a bit, security takes me down to the field. I immediately spotted Ja'marr's back talking to Joe. They said Joe and I were thick as thieves. Every time you turned around, these two were together.

Deciding to mess with Ja'marr a bit I ran and jumped on his back.

“What the hell,” he said confused at first then he heard my giggles “Girl if you don't get off of me,” he said in this fake serious tone.

“You'll be okay,” I patted his chest. “Congrats on the dub, you two,” I said, hoping down.

“Thanks same to you, Divisional huh?” Ja’marr congrats me.

I nodded my head with a slight smile. “She's going to get a ring before us, Joe,” Ja’marr said with a fake cry.

I shook my head at him. “You sure he didn't get tackled too hard.”

Joe played along, “You know, been asking myself the same question all season.”

Ja’marr’s jaw drops dramatically. “You know what? I'm going to hit the showers 'cause yall doing too much.”

He walked through the tunnel before he disappeared. “Thought you weren't coming. saw you got hit earlier,” Joe said, turning his attention to me his eyes going straight to the bandage on my forehead.

Looking up at him even though I'm 5 '7 Joe still had a couple of couple inches on me. “I wasn't going to let a hit stop me from seeing you.”

He turned his head, and I could tell he was fighting a grin because the corners of his mouth twitched. “Just me?” he asked.

I pretend to think about it for a minute. “Well, you and Ja’marr if you want to throw him in there, but mostly you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I won't tell him what you said,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.

I shrugged. “It's ok, he knows.”

Joe and I continued talking for a minute before his name was shouted out of the tunnel by a Bengals staff member

He turned his head, and I heard him slightly curse “You totally forgot you had a press conference didn't you” I asked trying not to giggle.

He nodded his head “Yep,” he said, popping the “P”

I shook my head. Joe had a one-track mind. He shouted to the person calling for him “I'll be there in a sec” then turned back to me.

“Duty Calls,” he opened his arms for a hug, and of course, I gave him one. Closing the gap, I hugged back despite the bulk of his gear.

It was like home, ignoring the sweat and the smell of grass and mud. I could smell the faint scent of his cologne it just felt all too familiar.

To my dislike we had to let go “Text me when you get home” he said releasing me. I didn't get a chance to respond before he was off toward the tunnel.

Yeah, I guess I will

After popping a Tylenol for my head, I climb into bed, ready to call it a night, but not before reaching for my phone and opening my text messages.

Me

I'm home.

Joe Burrr 🧡

Good. Started to get worried for a minute.

Me

Sorry after the game my head was screaming at me.

Joe Burrr 🧡

Did you take something for it?

Me

Took a Tylenol. Hasn't let me down yet.

Joe Burrr 🧡

Good..You're not going to miss any of your games right?

Me

Naw I'm too tough and got too much on the line to be benched now. I'll be ready come next week.

Joe Burrr 🧡

I know you will but just come out the next one without a hit to the face.

Me

I will try to avoid those the best I can 🫡

Joe Burrr 🧡

Please do. You have to pretty of a face for someone to be playing target practice.

Me

Watch it Joe

Joe Burrr 🧡

What! All I did was give my friend a compliment on her amazing looks.

Me

Well I thank you but now I wanna know what's your favorite look on me?

Joe Burrr 🧡

Any look you have on is my favorite. Ri.

Me

Ok, I'll give you that one

For now…

Joe Burrr 🧡

Maybe I'll have an answer for you in a couple weeks

[inquisimer]

Loving the rook and viago dynamic, chefs kiss 🤌.

If your taking requests, I love the idea of rook slowly becoming more angry or snappy after the regret prison. Thought the "I've been taking care of myself for a long time and don't need your help" prompt would be perfect for an angry rook to their bro. viago

YESSSS I love them so much, Crow Dad makes me [screeches unintelligibly]. And yes, I always take prompts, thank you for this one!! It had me looking at Arlow & Viago's relationship through a different lens, which was great 💜

Arlow de Riva & Viago de Riva | 680 words | endgame spoilers, referenced major character death

-

Arlow’s fingers slipped against her armor’s leather straps again and she huffed, frustrated. It was a buckle, it shouldn’t be so damn hard—

“Need a hand?”

She stiffened, fist clenching around the strap instead. “No. I’ve got it.”

Viago stepped into the meditation chamber anyway, the door shutting with a deafening click behind him. The blackout curtains over the windows kept the room dark, save for a few clusters of candles that flickered over the sharp, familiar planes of his face. Arlow stared pointedly down, cursing under her breath when the strap slipped from her grasp again.

“Yes, clearly,” Viago said dryly. He leaned against the buffet at the back of her couch and folded his arms. “The offer stands, if at any point you’d like to be less stubborn about it.”

Arlow ignored him. She wasn’t going to tell him that dregs of Solas’ Fade prison lingered on her, a numbness in her fingers and toes, a persistent chill that no fire or blanket could ward off, an unmistakable sense of being watched and judged and found wanting. He didn’t get to kick her out of the nest and expect things to be the same once she’d found her wings; she’d gotten this far and she would get through this, too.

Her fingers slipped once more. “Cazza,” she muttered.

“Arlow—“

“No, Viago,” she snapped. “I just need to—“ She pinched the strap between her nails this time and pulled it through the buckle. It left a little half-moon indentation in the purple leather, but it was fastened and it would fade. Much like she assumed the bitter coating on her teeth when she looked at Viago would fade… eventually.

She knew he was proud of her. She knew that he cared, in that closed-off, brusque way of his. But her heart was only getting about two-thirds of the way to letting him back in, because Solas’ trap finally had her dwelling on the way this contract started.

If Viago were caught in a prison of his own regrets, would he see her, leaving with Varric? She’d told Lucanis that she knew he didn’t have a choice, with the other Talons out for blood. And she did believe that. But the job had finally scraped her too raw for that to be anything other than a cold comfort.

He could have saved her. And someone else might have tripped into Varric’s crosshairs—someone who might have saved him. And Davrin. And Bellara.

Guilt and regret crept up her throat. They curled around her neck and trailed after her like a smoky shadow she just couldn’t shake. So she clung to the anger instead and let it shield her from the breakdown they threatened.

“Did you need something?” she asked, pulling on her gloves and flexing her fingers. “I should go check on my team.”

“Look at me.” His stern, quiet voice brokered no argument; it never had. Reluctantly, Arlow put the wardrobe at her back and did as he ordered. Her eyes were steely and the hard line of her jaw invited no comfort—not that she expected he would have offered, anyway.

His own expression was as inscrutable as always, almost foreboding in the odd shadows cast by the half-melted candles. For a moment, Arlow had the sense of how everyone else must see the Fifth Talon—terse, unyielding, the quiet threat of an expert assassin without any of the care that she was accustomed to.

It almost chilled her enough to make her relent. Almost—but her hands were still numb, and her heart still hurt. She still needed the anger, or she was going to get someone else killed.

“No, I—“ Viago cleared his throat. “No. You should go.”

Before we say something we both regret, Arlow thought. She knew what it would be for her. As he glanced away—he never looked away first—she wondered what he was afraid of letting slip. And she wondered, as she gave him her back, if he, too, felt the painful echo of watching her walk away.

She left.

[pbaz7]

AN: Hi guys, this is my first time writing and posting on here but I felt inspired. Let me know what you think and if it’s any good. I have so many ideas so I want to know if I should keep writing!

It’ll Always Be Her

It’s 6:52 AM, and though her “girlfriend” lies next to her, Paige can’t stop thinking about Azzi. Usually it’s Azzi who occupies this spot next to her, and it’s a lot easier to relax. But last night, Paige hadn’t been feeling great, and she didn’t have the energy to push back against Jess. (It;s a familiar pattern, one that explains how Piage ended up in a relationship with Jess to begin with.) So when Jess insisted that Paige needed to be taken care of, all Paige could do was mutter something inaudible under her breath and collapse face-first into her pillow, forcing herself to sleep earlier than usual.

Now, here she is, wide awake an hour and a half before her alarm is set to go off. Not because she’s ready to face the day, but because she’s uncomfortable with Jess snuggled so close and because her mind won’t stop swirling with thoughts of Azzi, her curly headed best friend. Over the past few weeks, something has shifted between them. Their looks have become more intense, their fingers linger on each other for just a second too long, and there’s an undeniable tension that always leaves Paige wanting more.

She glances at her phone- 7:23. Great. She sighs and tosses and turns, hoping to wake Jess so she can escape the bed as soon as possible. But when Jess begins to stir, she presses her face deeper into Paige’s side and wraps her arm around her waist, holding her tighter. The gesture feels so innocent, so natural… and yet, any touch that isn’t Azzi’s these days feels wrong.

With a frustrated breath, Paige swings her legs off the bed, sitting up quickly. She’s already done with this, already done with the suffocating warmth of Jess beside her.

The movement is enough to wake Jess fully. She blinks up at the time, then at Paige. “Baby, come back to bed. Jess says, her voice thick with sleep, trying to coax Paige back under the covers. “It’s so early.”

Paige doesn’t meet her eyes. She’s focused on the dresser, pulling out a sweatshirt, but her tone is dry when she responds. “I can’t. I’ve got to get to the gym.”

“Come on,” Jess whines, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “You have plenty of time. Please. Just five more minutes.”

Paige pulls on her sweatshirt, the irritation creeping into her voice. “I can’t Jess. I’ve got a full day. Practice, classes, homework. Endorsements to deal with. I don’t have time for this.”

Jess’s face falls. She gets out of bed slowly and steps toward Paige, “You’re acting like I’m some kind of inconvenience. Is it a crime to want to be intimate and spend time with your girlfriend? You’ve barely glanced at me in weeks. What’s going on, Paige? I miss you. I miss us hanging out.”

Paige feels anger welling up inside her now even though she knows she’s being unreasonable. She spins around, facing Jess. “You don’t get it, Jess,” she snaps. “You forced your way into my room last night. You know you never sleep here. I wasn’t asking for your ‘help,” I wasn’t asking for you to be here. You just–” She stops herself, trying to breathe through the frustration because she knows Jess hasn’t done anything wrong, but the words keep spilling out. “I didn’t want this. You didn’t even give me a choice.”

Jess recoils, her face flushing with a mix of hurt and confusion. “What the hell are you talking about Paige? I just wanted to be there for you. I didn’t force myself on you.” Her voice shakes now, the hurt beginning to show. “You’ve been shutting me out, and now you’re blaming me?”

Paige runs a hand through her hair, exasperated trying not to hurt the girl anymore that she already has. “I’m not blaming you, Jess. I’m just saying you’re not giving me any space. “I’m not your project to fix.”

Jess steps back. Her expression hardening. “So, what? You’re just going to keep pushing me away? Because I’ve been nothing but patient with you, but you’re acting like I’ve done something wrong.”

Paige’s breath quickens, her heart racing, “I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to figure things out. I can’t breathe with you constantly hovering.”

Jess stares at her for a long beat, clearly struggling to process everything. Then, her eyes narrow, and her voice lowers. “ I get it now, It’s her isn’t it?”

Paige’s entire body freezes. Her pulse spikes, and her stomach drops. “Don’t. Don’t bring her into this,” she says, her voice strained. It’s a warning, as everyone knows how protective the blonde is of Azzi. But it’s too late. Hess’s words hang in the air like a cold gust of wind.

“I see the way you look at her. I’m not blind, Paige. It’s so obvious–maybe you need to be more honest with yourself.”

“Don’t bring her up,” Paige snaps, her voice sharp and brittle. She’s seething now, every fiber of her being reacting to the mention of Azzi. “You don’t know what you’re talking about so maybe you should just leave.

Jess’s face pales, her lips trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. But she doesn’t say anything else. She just grabs her things, slinging her back over her shoulder with a sharp motion.

Paige doesn’t look at her as she heads toward the door. She can feel Jess’s gaze on her, but she can’t bring herself to meet it. She’s still shaking, her anger, guilt, and confusion all rising to the surface.

“Fine,” Jess mutters as she reaches the door. Her voice is small, but there’s a venom in it now. “I’ll give you the space you so desperately want. I’ll talk to you later Paige.”

The door clicks shut behind her, and for a long moment, Paige doesn’t move. The weight of everything crashes over her, and the room feels impossible quiet.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, fighting the wave of emotions, trying to push down the rage, the guilt, the ache in her chest. She runs a hand through her hair, trying to breathe, but all she can think about is Azzi, The way her heart races when she’s near her. The way their eyes meet and everything else seems to fade.

…

Paige slings her gym back over her shoulder, her steps brisk as she tries to shake off the lingering weight of her argument with Jess. She’s almost to the door when she nearly collides with Ice, who’s leaning casually against the wall, earbuds hanging from her neck.

“Whoa, slow down,” Ice says, raising an eyebrow. She’s in her usual attire, a tank top and sweatpants, her hair pulled into a messy bun.

Paige mumbles an apology and moves to step around her, but Ice doesn’t budge. Instead, she gives Paige a long, knowing look.

“Heard everything this morning,” Ice says, her voice low. “Thin walls, you know.”

Paige freezes, her face flushing.

Ice shrugs, a faint teasing smirk playing on her lips. “I’m just saying, it doesn’t take a genius to see that something is building with you and Azzi.”

Paige’s stomach flips at the mention of Azzi. “There’s nothing going on,” she says quickly, but the defensiveness in her tone betrays her.

Ice raises her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, whatever you say.”

With that, she saunters off toward the kitchen, leaving Paige standing in the doorway, her thoughts swirling.

…

Paige pushes herself harder than usual, the basketball's relentless rhythm doing very little to quiet her mind. The music connected to the gym’s speaker halts as her phone buzzes, and she goes to grab it during a water break. It’s a text from Azzi.

Azzi: Morning sunshine. You survive the apocalypse?

Paige smirks despite herself and quickly types back.

Paige: Barely. Already at the gym.

Azzi: Damn, overachiever. You running from something superstar?

Paige hesitates before replying.

Paige: Just needed to clear my head. You free?

Azzi’s response comes almost immediately.

Azzi: For you? Always. Come by whenever.

Paige feels a flicker of relief mixed with anticipation. She fires off a quick See you soon before tossing her phone into her gym back. For the first time that morning, a small part of her feels lighter.

…

Later, Paige finds herself standing outside Azzi’s door, heart pounding. Azzi opens it with that easy, infectious smile that makes Paige’s pulse quicken.

“Hey, gym rat,” Azzi teases, stepping aside to let her in. “ You didn’t even shower first? Bold choice.”

Paige rolls her eyes but smiles. “Don’t push your luck.”

They settle on the couch, the tension between them noticeable even in the mundane moments. Azzi sits close with her arm draped along the back of the couch, fingers brushing against Paige’s shoulder, trying to soothe the older blonde. It’s casual, but it sends a jolt through Paige.

“So,” Azzi begins, her voice soft but curious as she knows the only thing that can possibly cause her to be upset this early in the day is Jess. “What happened with Jess?”

Paige exhales, running a hand through her hair. “She’s upset. Think’s I’m shutting her out.”

Azzi titles her head, “Are you?”

Paige sighs, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt. “I don’t know. Maybe. Everything just feels…off with her lately.”

Azzi leans back, her fingers trailing casually over the seam of the couch. “You know, Jess never really liked me,” she says, her voice light, but her eyes sharp.

Paige shifts uncomfortably, already sensing where this is headed. “She’s just…territorial.”

Azzi snorts. “That’s one way to put it. From day one, she’s acted like I’m some homewrecker.”

Paige frowns, the memory of that first awkward meeting flashing in her mind. Jess had been cold, almost hostile, when Paige introduced her to Azzi at a team party months ago. Their tension was palpable from the moment they shook hands–Jess’s grip a little too firm, her smile a little too tight.

“She was threatened.” Paige says finally, her voice low. “And honestly? I didn’t know how to handle it. I wasn’t expecting her to call herself my girlfriend out of nowhere.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “So, you just went along with it? Classic Paige. Always trying not to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

Paige exhales sharply. “I didn’t want to embarrass her. And it wasn’t a big deal at first. We barely see each other with my schedule.”

Azzi leans in, her gaze intense. “But now?”

Paige doesn’t answer immediately. She’s too focused on the way Azzi’s eyes linger, the way her voice dips when she asks the question. The truth is, things are different now. Ever since Azzi started pushing boundaries–lingering touches, inside jokes that felt a little too intimate, the way she’d lean in close during quiet moments–Paige’s world has felt off-balance.

“It’s complicated,” Paige mutters, though even she knows it’s a cop-out.

Azzi titles her head, her tone both teasing and pointed. “Is it? Or are you just scared to admit what you really want?”

Paige’s heart skips a beat. “What are you getting at?”

Azzi shrugs, her smile softening. “I’m saying that maybe it’s time you stop worrying about everyone else and figure out what you need. You’ve been letting Jess call the shots, but what about you?”

Paige doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing. She knows Azzi’s right. For months, she’s been coasting, letting Jess dictate the terms of their so-called relationship while keeping her own feelings bottled up, But now, with Azzi in the picture, those feelings are impossible to ignore.

“I don’t want to hurt Jess, she’s done nothing wrong” Paige says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi’s expression softens, but there’s still a spark of determination in her eyes. “I know. But you can’t keep living like this, Paige. You deserve more than just going along with something because it’s easier.”

Paige meets Azzi’s gaze, her heart pounding. The air between them feels electric, the unspoken tension crackling like a live wire.

“You’ve been different lately,” Paige says suddenly, her voice quiet but steady. “More confident. More…direct in a sense.”

Azzi smirks, leaning in slightly. “You noticed?”

Paige swallows hard. “Yeah. Hard not to.”

Azzi’s fingers brush against Paige’s, a deliberate, feather-light touch that sends a jolt of warmth through her. The tension between them is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife, Paige can barely breathe her pulse thundering in her ears. “Maybe I got tired of waiting for you to see what’s been right in front of you this whole time.” Deciding to be a little bold in this moment Azzi continues her voice low and teasing. “You know, it’s kind of funny. Jess is always worried about me stealing you awake.” She leans in just slightly, her smirk deepening. “If she only knew how easy you make it.”

Paige’s eyes narrow, her lips twitching with a reluctant smile. “You’re such a pain.”

“Maybe,” Azzie murmurs, leaning in closer. “But you like it.”

Her voice drops into a playful whisper, and Paige can’t help but laugh, though it comes out a little breathless. Azzi’s confidence is intoxicating, her presence magnetic. Paige feels herself drawn in, like a moth to a flame, even as her mind screams at her to keep her distance.

“Azzi,” Paige warns, though her tone lacks conviction as she glances quickly at Azzi’s lips.

“Relax,” Azzi says softly, leaning back slightly but keeping her hand close to Paige’s. “Just messing with you, P.” Her eyes flicker with amusement, but there’s a softness behind them too, something deeper than Paige can’t ignore.

Paige shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “You really have no off switch, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” Azzi replies without missing a beat. She stretches her arms along the back of the couch, her fingers lightly grazing Paige’s shoulder again. “But hey, if you’re not ready to face the truth, I'll back off..for now.”

Paige smirks, leaning back into the couch. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re still here,” Azzi counters, her grin widening.

Paige rolls her eyes, but she can’t deny the truth in Azzi’s words. She’s here because, despite everything, this is where she feels most at ease. Most herself.

“Alright, enough of your games,” Paige says, her voice more lighthearted now. “Pick a movie.”

Azzi grabs the remote, scrolling through the options. “Fine, but you’re not allowed to complain if I pick something you hate.”

“Just pick something, Azzi,” Paige teases.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Azzi settles on Frozen. As the opening credits roll, she shifts slightly closer, her arm still resting along the back of the couch, fingers now absentmindedly playing with a strand of Paige’s hair.

Paige lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re not running away,” Azzi teases, her voice playful but with an edge of truth.

Paide doesn’t respond, her focus on the screen but her thoughts completely elsewhere. The warmth of Azzi’s touch, the sound of her laugh, the way her presence seemed to fill every corner of the room– it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

For now, they style into the movie, the tension simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to bubble over.

…

Later that evening, after leaving Azzi’s apartment, Paige stands in front of her dorm mirror, adjusting her sweatshirt. The number 35 emblazoned across the back–a familiar sight on game days, but tonight it feels different. It’s Azzi’s sweatshirt, one she had thrown on without thinking before heading over to Jess’s room. She swallows hard, already dreading the conversation ahead.

When Paige finally knocks, Jess opens the door with a tired expression. Her eyes immediately flick to the sweatshirt, and for a moment, her jaw tightens. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Nice sweatshirt,” Jess says, her tone sharpy but quiet. “Azzi’s right? Gues you managed to check that off your long list of things you ‘needed’ to do today.”

Paige feels her stomach drop, guilt mingling with irritation. “Jess–” she says with a warning tone, not wanting the girl in front of her to bring up her best friend.

Jess raises her hand, shaking her head. “Don’t. I don’t have the energy for this right now.” Her voice is weary, the edge from before softening into something more fragile.

Paige’s brow furrows. “What’s going on?”

Jess steps back, motoning for Paige to come in. She sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through her hair. “Something happened with my family,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have to go back home for a few weeks.”

Paige blinks, the weight of Jess’s words settling over her. “What? Is everything okay?”

Jess shrugs, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Not really. My dad’s in the hospital. It’s serious, and my mom’s barely holding it together.”

“Jess, “I’m so sorry,” Paige says, her voice soft. She moves to sit beside Jess, hesitating before placing a stiff hand on her shoulder.

Jess offers a small, tight smile. “Thanks. I just..I need to be there for them, you know?”

Paige nods. “Of course. You should be with your family.”

They sit in silence for a moment, the tension between them shifting into something more somber. Finally, Jess exhales deeply and looks at Paige. “I hope we can figure things out when I get back. I hate feeling like this..like weren’t not on the same page.”

Paige’s chest tightens as she knows exactly how she feels. “Me too,” she says quietly, though the words feel hollow.

Jess gives her a lingering look, then stands. “I’ll be gone early tomorrow. Just..take care of yourself, so we can figure us out, okay?”

Paige nods again, standing. “You too, Let me know if you need anything.”

Jess offers a faint smile, but her eyes betray a mix of sadness and exhaustion. “I will.”

As Paige steps out of the room, the door closes softly behind her, leaving her alone in the hallway. She leans against the wall for a moment, taking a deep breath, before heading back to Azzi’s room. In her chest she feels a mixture of guilt and relief, but she pushes them both aside as she walks down the hall.

…

When Paige returns to Azzi’s apartment, Azzi greets her with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. She leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, clearly enjoying herself.

“Well, well,’ Azzi drawls eyes flicking to the sweatshirt Paige is still wearing. “I see you decided to have the talk with Jess while rocking my number. Bold move.”

Paige sighs, stepping inside. “Don’t start.”

Azzi chuckles, closing the door behind her. “I’m just saying, P. You’ve got some interesting fashion choices for serious conversations.”

Paige rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the slight flush in her cheeks. “It wasn’t intentional. I just grabbed something before heading out.”

Azzi steps closer, her smirk softening into something more playful. “Well, intentional or not, you look good in it.” Her eyes sweep over Paige, and her voice drops slightly. “Really good.”

Paige’s breath catches for a moment, her heart pounding as she feels the tension between them crackle to life again. She tries to brush it off with a nervous laugh. “You’re insufferable.”

Azzi grins, taking another step closer until they’re just a breath apart.”And yet, you keep coming back.”

Paige doesn’t have a clever comeback this time. She’s too focused on the way Azzi’s gaze lingers on her, the way her fingers lightly brush against Paige’s wrist, sending a jolt of warmth through her.

“I can’t think straight around you.” Paige admits softly, almost to herself.

Azzi’s smile deepens, a mix of satisfaction and something softer. “Good,” she murmurs, her fingers trailing up to toy with the hem of the sweatshirt. “Because I like you exactly like this.”

Paige swallows hard, her pulse racing. She doesn’t resist when Azzi gently tugs her toward the couch, but instead of sitting down, Azzi stops, tilting her head toward the bedroom.

“Come on,” Azzi says, her voice low and inviting, “Let’s get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

As they step into the room, Paige pauses feeling a mix of anticipation and nervous energy, Azzi, catching the hesitation gives her usual reasoning smile but gentler.

“Relax,” Azzi murmurs, her voice low and soothing. “You know we’d never do anything while you’re with Jess. We’re better than that.”

Paige feels a mix of relief and guilt that swirl inside her. Azzi’s words aren’t just reassurance– they’re a reminder of the trust and respect that anchor their connection. She nods slowly, her heart steadying a little.

“I know,” Paige whispers, her voice almost breaking.

Azii offers her a small, understanding smile before gently tugging her toward the bed. “Now come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

Paige lets herself be led, but once they reach the bed, she takes the initiative. She slips under the covers and, before Azzi can settle, gently pulls her down beside her. Azzi raises an eyebrow, but before she can say anything, Paige wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her close, resting her chin on Azzi’s shoulder.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, their breaths syncing as the tension from earlier melts into a quiet intimacy. Paige tightens her hold slightly, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s stomach, grounding herself in the moment. A

Azzi tilts her head slightly, her voice soft. “You’re really something, P.”

Paige smiles, her heart full in a way she can’t quite describe. All thoughts of Jess are completely absent from her mind. “Goodnight, Az.”

“Night, superstar,” Azzi murmurs, her voice laced with contentment.

In the safety of each other’s arms, they drift off, the unspoken feelings between them lingering like a promise in the quiet night.

[the-universal-sun]

i had the idea that stan had been regressing even before being kicked out to cope with fillbrick - could you write a fic expanding on it? (im dyslexic my ass CANNOT do it myself 😭) like teenage stan regressing and ford taking care of him ykwim

Ooo I’ve never thought about a teen stan regressing. Thank you for the ask! Please let me know if it lives up to your expectations! TW for implied child abuse

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

Stan sniffled, pulling his blanket tighter around his head. His head started started feeling fuzzy again after another fight with Filbrick. He thinks there’s something wrong with him, maybe all the fights he’s gotten into has messed up his head or something. When he gets all fuzzy headed like this, he finds it really hard to talk, and he’s not interested in any of that teenage stuff. He just wants to hold on to this cheap stuffed monkey he won from the fair a few years ago. Sometimes he has the urge to make sand castles, but he can’t bear the thought of someone seeing him like that outside of his room; his sanctuary where no body comes in. Nobody but Ford, that is. Ford’s the only one who knows about this thing that happens to Stan sometimes. He found his clutching his monkey and sobbing one day, and while Stan couldn’t explain what happened until after he stopped feeling fuzzy, Ford just sat with him until he felt better. He’s such a good brother. But Ford doesn’t know what this is either, why Stan goes fuzzy headed sometimes. Maybe he’s just a stupid freak-

“Stanley?” He flinches as he hears Ford’s voice, he didn’t hear the door open. He must be really out of it. Stan doesn’t come out from under his blanket, curling up tighter when he hears Ford walk over to his bunk.

“Stanley, are you alright? I heard you had another fight with dad. What happened this time-“ He doesn’t fight it as Ford pulls the blanket off his head, but he hides his face in the sheets when Ford stops mid-sentence. He’s going to be mad, isn’t he. Mad at Stan for being stupid and crying over nothing. He pulls away when his brother goes to touch his face, it hurts and he doesn’t want anybody touching it.

“Wh-what? Did dad…? Stanley, I-“ If Stan wasn’t feeling so bad, he might’ve giggled. He’s never heard his brother, who knows like a billion words, to be so speechless. But he doesn’t feel like laughing, his mouth is quivering because he’s trying to hold back his tears. He’s a man, not a big baby, and men don’t cry. No matter if he is feeling like a big baby sometimes, like right now. Stan clenches his eyes shut as Ford gets up from his bed with a sigh. He knew it. Ford’s mad at him, too. Mad at Stan for being a big baby who couldn’t dodge a simple right hook.

Ford comes back though, he comes back holding the cheap purple monkey Stan had named “Mookie”, a stupid name but he couldn’t think of anything else. He reaches out, needing to hold on to his Monkey toy and get comfort from it. “Here you go, Stanley, here’s your Mookie,” Stan still blushes whenever Ford speaks to him in that soft voice and uses his toys name, “scoot over. I’m getting in your bed with you. I need some Stanley time.” His brother explains when Stan looks at his, wondering why he didn’t want to go to his own bed with his own stiff sheets. Stan’s not going to argue against cuddling with Ford, that’s his favorite thing to do.

Stan sighs against Ford, snuggling his face into his chest and resisting the urge to chew on his shirt; he didn’t think Ford would appreciate that. He does wipe his remaining tears off on it, though. He feels Ford’s answering sigh ruffle his hair, his arms wrapping tight around Stan. He likes the pressure and warmth of Ford’s arms, he gets cold easily. Ford kisses his head before he starts talking. Stan doesn’t know what he’s talking about, probably wouldn’t even if he were right in the head, he thinks it’s about some research into a math problem. He doesn’t know, he just likes listening to Ford talk, it soothes him.

He still finches when Ford brushes his hand against his cheek, but he’s not as scared of Ford’s reaction anymore, it was silly of him to think Ford would be mad about this, not when he’s always had Stan’s back! He’s the best big brother Stan could ever ask for. He’ll tell Ford that when he’s feeling better. He just content to lay here with his and listen to his voice. He hopes he’ll always have Ford there with him.

[dood-itsradical]

Cool? Cool.

Pairing: Jake Kim x GN!Reader

Summary: An awkward rendezvous with Big Deal's leader.

Genre/Trope: Friends to enemies to friends to more(?). Non established relationship. Can be viewed as platonic as well.

Warnings: Cussing, self/oc indulgence? (I mostly wrote this for myself), no use of Y/n, MIGHT be OOC Jake (judge them yourself, this my first time writing for Lookism).

A/N: It's been TWO YEARS since I post fanfics so I might be lil stiffy, bare with me chat. I DON'T do request btw!

Masterlist

“Man, so what now? We just…went back to stop being allies?” You questioned bluntly.

It's been a few days since the Hunt for Gun event. Everything went back to how it was. Or some would say, for the better. You weren't exactly on any sides of the crew. Scratch that, you were one of the Workers. And to be fair, you sort of still carry that guilt. Like Samuel, you wanted- no, needed money. Again, scratch that, you aren't exactly like him, God bless. You just have responsibilities at home that need to be taken care of.

Because first of all, being a broke college student got you into this shit and you practically worked your ass for it. You just wanted to pay for your student loans, bills and groceries. Second of all, news flash, Korea ain't as great as influencers described them to be. When you first moved here, you were still expecting the struggles of the norm. Not fighting gangsters. Let alone joining one.

Thirdly, you know basic martial arts. You know what, fuck that. You're actually pretty decent at it. Sparring and training with these dudes around you, paid off. And through the journey you gained friendship, learning to understand different types of people. That includes multiple reality checks, unlocking new traumas as the list goes on. Part of you have thought of the alternatives and the what ifs. While the other half is actually grateful.

“It never has to be that way, you know?” Daniel replied, offering a soft smile.

You wanted to ask if the whole fighting and scheming thing is over, now that Charles Choi is gone. So is the matter of the Red Note. But you keep those questions to yourself, knowing it's far from done when Gun is still alive even if he's in juvie. Besides, he's not the only bad guy they need to watch out for.

You shrugged sheepishly, hands shoving into your pockets. “Right.” Your head turned to the ground for a bit. Daniel senses this and continues, “We're still friends, right?”

You looked up relieved by his words, “Of course. You're cool. You too, Jay.” You added. The blond gave you a big sincere smile as you bent down to pet the puppies. They equally ushered closer for attention. Your expression softened before exhaling.

“Hey.” You started, taking a second to collect your words. “You think Big Deal would diss the hell out of me if I go in their turf? I need to talk to Jake.”

Daniel shrugged back, giving his usual reassuring energy. “I don't think so, after everything. You want us to accompany you there?” You shake your head, mimicking his smile, “I'm good. Thanks though.”

It was by then you found yourself stepping in Big Deal’s street. You weren't a coward, but you still hold respect for each of Four Major Crews. If you are being honest, you didn't even belong here. You're just a person who was caught up with your own personal issues and was left with no options but to use physical violence for your own selfish gain. It wasn't selfish, you told yourself. You just have your own goal and achievement like everyone else.

You were immediately recognised and being semi interrogated by the other Big Deal members due to your sudden and random arrival. You kept your tone as calm as possible. Getting straight to the business and voila! There's Jake.

You muttered a thanks to Jerry before turning to your old friend. Ice breaking sucked, this everyone can relate. But man, you acted like an ex begging to get together with him again. “Sooo……”

You trailed awkwardly, eyes darting everywhere in the room except him. “Big Deal's boss doing paperworks, huh? Guess nobody escaping that.” You tried to humour him, to light up the mood, anything. And luckily, he stifled a chuckle. Or a subtle exhale, you counted it as that either way.

“Yeah, well, it's my responsibility now.” Jake replied, shifting in his chair while leaning back.

To put it simply, you and Jake aren't completely strangers. You two were somewhat colleagues, let's put it that way. You never dare ask about the friendship part. Are you two even friends? Buddies? Amigos?

I mean you're very much aware of Big Deal's history. Jake isn't so secretive, mind you. You've privately met Sinu himself before, good man. You're most definitely familiar with Samuel. And by God, you weren't very fond of him. But you didn't judge him either, and as mentioned, everyone here has a personal goal. You've managed to exchange conversation with him from time to time. If I may say so myself, a LOT. Boy, was he an interesting character.

When you first joined Workers, you were clueless. Eugene offered you good deals. Obviously you hesitated in the begining. You were no fool, you knew what you signed up for. Fortunately for you, you weren't involved too much. You did side jobs, mostly undercover. When Jake finds out, he confronts you. Which actually surprised you. You fought him. You fought everyone else while sticking to the white uniform. Although he can definitely tell you held back at that moment.

“No hard feelings, Jake.” You said back then before getting into stance. You took his hit many times, hardly using your full strength before discovering you were just buying him time to let others finish their business. And he didn't blame you either. He felt bad. Guilty even, that he couldn't offer you better hospitality, better support. And yes, he admits that he was kinda cold back then. He never gets the chance to apologize. But he does now as you basically presence yourself to him.

“You aight? You know, after all the…” You trailed, subtly recalling the recent fiasco. He blinked before nodding, “Just peachy. You?” You nodded back. “Yeah.”

As if it couldn't get any awkward, you were starting to regret showing your face here. On top of that, he wasn't any near being his suave self. He had it fine with the others but with you? There's an unfinished business. He thought it's odd. It's exactly the same scenario that happened between him and Samuel, yet the tension wasn't supposed to be this palpable as far as he know.

“I'm sorry-” You both said in sync, now looking at each other weirdly. Chuckling nervously, you both did it again, “You first. No, you. Not me, you. Fuck.”

Sighing, you both let out small genuine laughters. “No, seriously. You first.” he offered.

You nodded, “No hard feelings, right?”

He smiled, “No hard feelings. It's good to see you again.” You returned the smile, the burden finally left your shoulders. “Same here. You didn't break a bone. I'm not surprised.”

He leaned forward, folding his arms on the desk. His arms bulging through the fabric doesn't go unnoticed. “Well, colour me surprised. You didn't either.” He joked back. His mood has lifted as did yours. You rolled your shoulders, pretending to flex slightly. “I tried.”

“Say,” Your expression turned slightly serious, still with a bit of amusement in your tone. “I guess I owe you a jack of explanation, huh?”

He tilted his head, “Oh? Do you, now? Lemme check.” He pretended to go through his paperworks. You just chuckled, shaking your head at his sense of humour. “Asshole. I'm serious.”

Jake faced you again, “I know. And I'm listening. We can get food while we're at it.”

“Let me guess, my treat?” You raised a brow.

He gets off from his seat, his duty now left abandoned. “C’mon, I'm not a monster.” Slinging his arm around your shoulder as he leads you to the exit.

[illumose]

Please, don’t go — d.w

⋆⭒˚.⋆ PAIRINGS : female reader ( 2nd person ) x dean winchester

⋆⭒˚.⋆ CONTENT : angst if you squint, fluff, happy ending

⋆⭒˚.⋆ SUMMARY : You weren’t supposed to stay that long with the Winchesters.

author’s note : like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this little piece of writing

These past months, you grew accustomed to living with the Winchesters in the shitty motel of Colorado’s smallest town. It became the base of your small operation. You loved sharing meals with Dean — probably because it meant ordering pizza and drinking beer. You even shared a bed in a tiny room down the hall. It was not as comfortable as you had hoped, however, it meant cuddling with him, every single night.

The hunt wasn’t supposed to last this long. It appeared to be a simple case of werewolf. Yet, as time passed, Sam suspected that another monster was going on killing sprees. A monster that disguised itself as a werewolf. For months, you tracked him across the state, often encountering other malicious beings. A ghost, a wendigo, a lone vampire. Today, it all came to an end. Sam found a pattern in the shapeshifter’s selection of victims. Somehow, it had a thing for blondes, whether man or woman. He posted as bait while Dean and you waited with a silver blade.

Now, you were back at the motel, packing all your belongings inside a duffel bag. Dean watched you like a hawk, his lips tight. In another world, in another dimension, it would have ended differently. Nonetheless, you knew that the Winchesters worked solo. They had been functioning this way for years. Dean, especially, did not become attached to anyone. Never. He hooked up with random girls in bars that he’d never set foot in again. He’d flirt with waitresses whose names he’d forget in seconds. You were just another girl he crossed paths with. The next day, he’d have forgotten you.

"Stay," he declared, his eyes fixed on your back.

"What?"

"C’mon, you know what I’m talking about." He looked nervous, almost as if he never expected those words to leave his mouth. A mouth you dreamed to kiss everyday.

"Well, I don’t."

He walked up to you and sat on the unmade bed. He looked you right in the eyes. "I didn’t think I’d grow to love you, but I did. I don’t want to go back to the bunker and wake up alone. I don’t want to watch trash TV without your little comments. Fuck… I can’t see myself getting in the Impala and driving away from you. Your place is with us. With me."

He seemed so sincere. He litterally wore his heart on his sleeve. You were dumbfounded. How did you not see this coming, you wondered? You spent so much time afraid of being rejected that you never considered the other option. Dean liked you.

"Please, don’t go. I love you. And I feel like a teenage boy going through his emo phase."

You sat next to him, your hand immediately finding its way on his knee. "Good thing I love you too. It would’ve been awkward."

He grabbed your face and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips. "Sam’s at the window, with his goofy smile," he whispered in her ear. You let out a laugh. You knew that you owed all of this to his younger brother, a firm believer in the power of love.

"Let’s give him a show," you suggested, grabbing Dean by the collar and kissing him with fervor.

Sam withdrew almost instantly from the window with the irresistible urge to throw up and his eyes full of happiness for his brother.

[loonavrsl]

241128 [💌] Yves' letter to fans for her 7th debut anniversary

Hi! I just arrived home after finishing dance lessons. It's a pity to have the day pass by as soon as I arrive, and so I write. It had snowed just like this, on that day. Coming home while stepping on the soft snow, I briefly glimpsed my past self. I used to get called over by teachers at school and be scolded for grasping at clouds, because I wanted to become a singer. On the two-hour ride home aboard the 1002 bus, the pitch-black darkness outside the window seemed just like my future. What if I really was chasing clouds? Those times, seemingly in my grasp but never quite, would always scatter like the morning fog. Meanwhile, I shed my school uniform and the first digit of my age changed, but my days were cruel. I'd walk an hour's distance to save money on fares, shedding the snow piled up on my shoulders and listening to Haseul's "Let Me In". I vividly remember myself wiping the damp screen with shattering cold hands, looking at that album cover again and again, running to my part-time job. I don't think I could ever forget being accepted to the company I'd been rejected from twice, and coming face-to-face with Haseul. I think it was an incredibly big happiness to be able to do the music I like, together with the precious relationships that I'd never have met if it wasn't for the group. True happiness can only be felt after experiencing misfortune, did they say? Maybe the heavens were jealous, or maybe I did wrongs in my past life, but after spending a year that felt like a decade, I was standing on the stage alone. They also say that no pain is meaningless. Even though my past self may have been upset, I'm assured that that has made me a little more sturdy and resilient. But why does a corner of my heart ache. Perhaps it is aimed towards you all. Have you ever seen a shooting star? When I blew out my birthday candles, I'd often try to get as many wishes in as possible and the candle would drip onto the cake. One night, at the shooting star rushing towards me in the sky I'd just looked up at, I wished without hesitation: 'Please let everyone be happy'. I don't know if that wish is still valid, but like the meteor headed to me then, perhaps I too am rushing towards that happiness that I don't know of yet. Please don't hate me. I am not a bad person. Tonight, I hear those words that I endlessly repeated and repeated inside myself for six years, like an echo. Now, when the vestige of those echoes fade, I want to speak anew in a calm voice. Thank you for loving me. Someday, when this resonance ends, I'd like to impart another new set of words to you. On this silent night with the world covered in white snow, leaving my clamorous heart behind; to you, to whom I want to give only love.

Translation by: litell_johnn

[astoldbyaja]

Late Nights Playing in the Dark

“I- I need to empty myself inside you, mein liebling.”

Konig X Black plus size female OC

Authors notes

And no I’m not trying to hear your opinion or views on what weight size is considered plus size to you! Keep it to yourself and enjoy the smut!

I am 5’7 rocking a 260-pound body that I was in love with. My face is bomb, my ass is fat, my bust is gorgeous, and I love my stomach and don’t get me started on thighs. Before I was in the military, I would walk around my house naked because I just enjoyed walking past every mirror in my home!

My body was heavily worshiped by my past lovers, not to mention there was much more of me to go around that my men just enjoyed. Those were good times, before I offered my service as a medic to KorTac. I got a long with pretty much everyone who came to my sick bay to be cared for…

So, you can imagine my surprise when Austrian operator Konig, had his thick muscular arms around my thighs carrying me to his barracks, like I didn’t weigh a thing.

“KONIG STOP IT! LET ME GO!” I said pounding on his heavy shoulders which did nothing to stop him. This man I have treated many times, he was built like a tank, arms covered in tattoos, yet he never removed his sniper hood. I knew he had severe anxiety, so I figured it brought him comfort. I was trying to figure out how it came to this, being brought into his large room and just placed onto his bed with a bounce.

It was late and I was checking a wound on his arm to ensure it healed properly and when I gave the “all clear”, he stood over me like a shadow, hoisted me up in his arms and just began to leave with me, without saying a word! Just like that. Konig was in a black tight shirt and his uniform pants. Konig looked down at me with heavy blue eyes.

“Naevia… I need you.” he said huskily, and I was almost confused before he began to unbuckle his pants and I gasped and covered my face, my fear rising in me. “I- I need to empty myself inside you, mein liebling.”

I squeaked at his words peeking through my fingers to see his cock standing at attention. My eyes widened. Oh, good lord he’s hung!

“Konig I-I don’t think I’m the right woman for you!” I said. For the first time, my confidence in my body was shot, mixed with fear of this giant of a man who had already removed his shirt revealing his muscular torso. He tilted his head.

“Why… would you say such a thing?” he asked as if offended. I finally lowered my hands and looked at his body and then looked at my body.

“I mean surely you’d want a woman who is smaller and well-built or something right?” I asked. I’ve personally never seen Konig around any women, but well-built men usually always wanted well-built petite women, or so I thought. He blinked down at me for a moment before leaning over and with one firm yank, he just slid my scrubs upward. I yelped as my legs were forced in the air as my pants slid right down my soft plushy thighs.

He even managed to take my Skechers off in the process!

“KONIG!” I yelped in shock. His hooded face was suddenly buried in my left thigh nuzzling it gently.

“Mein liebe, you have no idea how long I have waited to feel your soft skin against my face. Your body is perfect, you are perfect. Your thighs are so gorgeous, the way I want them to lock around my head and squeeze me so good!” He swoons, his gloved hands gently yet firmly holding my thighs in place. My eyes just watch in both horror and mild fascination at how much he was nuzzling my skin. I notice he leans into my inner thigh and press the space where his mouth is against my skin. He slowly reaches over to pull his mask up, but only enough for me to see his strong jaw as he kisses at my skin. “You smell amazing Naevia… you always do.”

I whimpered as his kisses begin to move up my body and I swallowed nervously as I felt him growl into my flesh. I shook my head snapping out of it as I try to scoot back some so, I could close my legs. I have been on my feet all day there is no way I smelled good down there!

“Konig, stop it’s dirty!” I say only for him to grab me and pull me back, burying his mask right into the center of my panties. I yelp as he inhales my scent, his eyes fluttering close for a moment.

“My darling, Naevia you could never be dirty.” he swoons, his eyes opening and looking at me with such… devotion. If eyes could show hearts in them, Konig’s would be pulsing. “Please Naevia… let me have you. Let me worship your body. I need it.”

I bit my lip looking at the top of his perfectly sculpted ass noticing he was rutting desperately into the bed right now. My heart was pounding hard in my chest, but I couldn’t deny the curiosity of how this moment would go with someone like Konig.

I’ve always heard this man was a monster on the battlefield, a killing machine who lived for the kill, and now here he is basically rubbing his cheeks against my thighs begging to have me. Fuck it.

“Okay… b-but shouldn’t I at least shower first- aaah~”

My words were cut off by his thick done moving up and down my folds through my panties. It felt weird at first, foreign almost, my body not aware of what was going on.

“No- need you… just like this.” he muttered into my pussy as he kept licking. The satin fabric of my panties mixed with his tongue had my folds tingling a bit due to the soft friction of the panties being touched. I shuddered feeling my vaginal walls starting to come to life. My chest begins to move up and down as I can hear him grumbling and growling into my pussy sending vibrations into me.

“Aah…” I moan as I feel his fingers finally pull my panties out of the way before feeling his tongue against my now wet folds. My toes began to curl as it didn’t take long for my body to respond. Konig begins to remove his gloves setting them on the ground so he can grip my thighs more, his fingers gently running along them after a moment.

“You taste amazing mein schatz.” Konig grumbles as his tongue begins to dip past my wet folds burying deeper inside, exploring my velvet walls. I can feel said walls begin to clench around the intruder. I notice his hands start to spread my thighs further apart, as he climbs further onto the bed, yet his mouth never leaves my drenched pussy.

Moans were falling from my lips as I feel his lips now move to suck on my sensitive clit. My toes curl immediately at the sensations, and I grip the bed sheets hard feeling heavy currents of pleasure beginning to move up into my body. My hips try and roll against his face, but he holds them down into the bed.

“Don’t worry, my liebe, I’ll take care of you.” he said, his dark eyes looking at me as if commanding me to keep still. My body is quivering still as he brings his attention back to my clit, flicking and teasing me now swollen pearl. My entire body was feeling warm and tingly all over. I feel two thick fingers prod at my soaked entrance before slowly pushing in, my walls automatically clenching up.

I gasped at the feel, his fingers curling lightly as he enters me. My eyes see stars as he started moving his fingers in and out, teasingly slow all the while his tongue continues to work my clit, sucking on it fast and hard. My cries grow louder, and I didn’t care about being quiet. I’ve always been told my moans sounded orgasmic, and I wanted to know if Konig would agree.

He growls out lowly as my moans continue, his fingers increasing in speed. My lower half was quivering from the stomach clenching pleasure I was feeling. I did not foresee my day going like this, but my god I didn't care. He felt so good inside me and it was making my body crave more of him.

“Ah Konig!” I moan his name. This only got his fingers moving faster and deeper inside me, hell bent to find my sweet spot, and when he does, I see white. My body bucks just a bit at the intense tingling sensations that were washing over me in waves. My walls were clenching faster and tighter, and my juices were pouring onto his fingers as his tongue continued to attack my clit.

“Keep showing me how good I make you, Naevia. I won’t stop until you cum at least four times.” Konig commands aggressively as his fingers curl inside me. Now the sparks of pleasure are attacking my pussy in heavy jolts, and I’m crying out harder and louder, desperate for him to keep going. My thighs lock around his head and he snarls happily at this response.

“Oh my god! Just like that, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” I chant as his fingers keep working me over, my hot juices are pouring out faster than I can stop it.

“Give it to me, mein Schatz!” he commands abusing that sweet spot now. I moan out hard as I feel me cum squirting out all over his fingers and face. My body shakes violently as I scream out in total bliss. My pussy gushes a bit more and I’m shuddering heavily. I’ve never done that before and it feels amazing.

“Braves mädchen…” he says lowly standing up on his knees before me. I have another clear picture of his body, his cock twitching almost angrily now, his balls tight. “Now… this is what’s going to happen next… I am going to remove the rest of your clothes and worship the rest of your body… I am going to suck those pretty nipples of yours until you cum from it- that will be your second orgasm… then I am going to eat that tight ass of yours until you come a third time… and finally… I am going to fuck you so deep in your pretty pink pussy until your womb is overflowing with my cum and then I will allow you to come a forth time.”

His tone was dark and heavy, and leaving no room for argument. This was not a suggestion this was a full-on command. There would be no democratic discussions on how this would go; this was going to be a dictatorship on my pussy that he was going to conquer and claim.

“Okay…” I said weakly and his eyes showed me that he was pleased, and he was smirking as he leaned over my body, his face closing in on mine as he raises his sniper hood just enough for his lips to hover over mine.

“Braves mädchen.” he says huskily before capturing my lips in a dominate kiss.

Taglist

@poohkie90

@patienceunique (only because you replied to my question about this yesterday lol if you want to be taken off I will do so xD)

@gremlinmodetweeker

@marley-suguru4143

@cyaniderainfall

[skunkes]

the bad: i have been raised without much warmth from my parents in childhood, but also pressured to conform to familial authority, doubt myself always, and value familial connections above all else (<- failed at this, and feel guilt about it.)

but also in experiencing this i have been so isolated from the entire rest of the world and others, that it will be nearly impossible to create my own "family" -> find safety and comfort in anybody else once my family is Gone. despite dis i find it really difficult to break away from the familiar, disobey and disappoint, because, well, why are my wishes more important than anybody else's. why would I cause upset and distress in anybody, and exert so much effort into my doubt filled half decisions, for my meaningless little Wishes. being away would also mean less time with these people who I'll never see again once they're gone. being raised this way is definitely paying off for those who did so.

the good: yaaaay adjacent inspiration for writing talon lore

[silverwhittlingknife]

can we have a hint about what the spring break tim patrol chapter of red letter day contains? (you kept having dick say "if the joker shows up" and tim's "he won't." for me to be convinced that goes off without any trouble)

i'm sure it'll be fine. :D

i am delighted you're enjoying the story <333 i haven't updated it in soooo long but i got some very sweet comments lately so i have been looking at my scribbles again <3

[n0bluev]

@fushiglow hmm….wonder who i’d draw this for all of a sudden and why… 🤔🤔