#i still can't get over the things he said

[poguehearted77]

Tap Out

Just thinking about Rafe's super gorgeous, beautifully breathtaking girlfriend who is notorious for giving people a hard time. Especially him.

She got that million dollar Million dollar oow, oow And all I want to do is touch it Make her tapout, tapout, tapout, tapout,

Rafe stands tall and brooding in front of the bed where you sat while he hits replay on the overbearing series of voicemails you'd left him while he was out.

"Hi Rafe, I know you said you and Barry had to go take care of whatever it was that you said—I don't know; I wasn't really listening, but I just saw this new coach bag online, and I need you to send me a picture of your credit card front and back so I can get it. Thanks in advance baby."

You stay silent and unbothered by the replay.

He plays the next one, "It's almost midnight, Rafe. When are you coming home? I miss you. The bed is so big and empty without you in it. You remember that night we came back from the Blue Diamond charity gala and we barely made it up the stairs? The way you fucked me so good, left me aching for you for days--mmmm, wanna feel you like that again, come home Rafeyy."

Your boyfriend huffs as he moves to play the last one except this one is silent for the first few moments until some lewd sounds can be picked up. It's wet and sticky. It sounds like Thanksgiving mac and cheese being stirred in the pot. Soon, the faintest string of moans can be heard.

Most wouldn't be able to pick up on it, but not Rafe. His ears are trained to the sound of your voice. He's accustomed to every pitch, tone and frequency your pleasure can take on.

You stand, ready to plead your case, "You were gone for hours, what was I supposed to do?" Your arms cross defensively and they suddenly drop when Rafe's big hand is holding you by the throat, squeezing tight enough to have you gasping.

"You think this shit is funny?" His voice is strict, unwavering and serious. "What if Barry heard this? Huh?" Your eyes roll, defences refusing to crumble even with a limited supply of air, "It's Barry, he'd probably thank me-"

You need to learn when to shut up at the end of a rhetorical question because now Rafe had you bent up like a pretzel. One hand is still around your neck while the other holds you at the waist.

Your legs are shaking as he brings you to what you thought was your third orgasm but is actually the fourth (you'd blacked out during the second one). "Rafe- no- s'too much," You murmur, voice broken and weak from all your screams.

"Nothin's too much for you." He groans, punctuating his sentences with a sharp snap of his hips. It sends you reeling and your eyes roll back as you feel that familiar heat begin to unfurl in your core.

You shake your head repeatedly, "I can't--Rafe! Please." You beg, so incredibly turned on by the sight of your hot boyfriend who looked down to where your bodies connected. The way your slick covered his cock down to his balls. It pulls a groan out of him from his core.

You admired the sweat that gathered over the thin hairs on his chest and that piercing blue gaze that would glance up at you from time to time to taunt you like now. "You know what to do if you can't take it sweet thing." You do know what to do, but you refuse to back down, you're so close.

"O-oh shit I'm-" The words escape and your climax is stolen from you when Rafe stops completely and pulls out, his hands move down to your hips, shamelessly displaying his physical dominance over you and flipping you onto your stomach effortlessly.

He grips the flesh of your waist and manhandles you until you're being pulled back against him, the beautiful sight of your plump and juicy ass in his hands is enough to send him to the heavens above or maybe the firey pits below.

You're already too weak to hold yourself up on your arms, so you let yourself fall into the sheets. Your cries muffled into the pillows as Rafe slowly presses back into you, stretching you back open. His rhythm picks up with nothing but urgency and mercilessness.

Your back arches, and you cry out his name when you're blinded by your own orgasm. Coming undone once more and he comes soon after with a breathy chuckle. His hips are still rolling into yours lethargicly when he whispers, "You got one more in you, baby?"

"Fuck no. I'm done." You whine, your fists tapping out on the pillow and his pace slows until he finally stops, slowly pulling out.

"That'll teach you to fuck with my voicemails when I'm not here." He lays himself down beside you, carefully moving the stray strands of hair out of your face to admire you.

Your lips were swollen from all the sucking and biting he'd done to them earlier, your cheeks flushed and your body is spent. You grin, "You know you liked it, especially that last one." Rafe exhaled, even in your drained state you can still find time to be bratty.

"I did, I did. You sounded so fucking pretty playing with that perfect pussy of yours. Had to go rub one out in Barry's bathroom because of you." You smile a little bigger at that. "Good." Is all you say and Rafe can only roll his eyes as he moves to hold you in his arms.

You both lay there, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies until Rafe speaks up softly, "Tuesday." He says, and your head looks up at him with a confused tilt. Without having to ask him, he explains, "The purse you want. I ordered it. It'll be here on Tuesday."

Just when your smile couldn't get any bigger, it does, and Rafe can't help but to be in awe because god you're so fucking gorgeous but you're such a pain in the ass.

His prettiest headache.

[nightingale-prompts]

The Eldritch Coffeehouse-DCxDP prompt-part 2(I guess)

Part 1

Elle had a way of convincing people. Like how she convinced Damian Wayne that they were now best friends and to come over to her family's business after-school.

Damian was only going along with this because of the prodding of his family to make friends. This wasn't something that came easy to him as no one would understand him. But Nightingale had been more understanding than most in his life. She was very...nice. She had these big ideas that always went ahead of her and plans that were larger than life. She always had too much energy and found it hard in school to get it out. Naturally, she was head of the track team but she'd always complain about wanting to join the music club.

Jon had met her once while trying to sneak up on them at the end of the day. She pinned him in a triangle chokehold until Damian called her off. Damian didn't call her off immediately though.

She was still more apologetic than he liked.

"I can make it up to you guys. Let's go to my family's café! We can eat ourselves sick on pastries and cake! My brother should still be making hot chocolate right now!" She told them.

Damian was nice enough to tell Dick where he was going and to not wait up. Alfred was already in the car in front of the school and drove the three to the...graveyard?

"Thank you Mister Pennyworth! Do you want to join us?" Elle asked loudly but politely.

Alfred accepted graciously and agreed to stay for a cup of tea before heading back. He would come pick up Damian later.

The walk through the graveyard was daunting for Jon and only for Jon. It wasn't as scary as he thought since it was only the afternoon and the weather was warm. A few cats rested on tombstones soaking in the heat. A few birds gathered here and there hunting for worms and seeds. There were food and water dishes here and there for the felines and fresh seeds sprinkled on the grass for the birds.

"I usually clean and change the food dishes in the morning. But Dan likes to feed the birds."

Elle walked the row of mausoleums until she stopped at one and pushed the stone door open and a skipped down a stairs and opened the smooth mahogany door in the café.

Behind the counter a young man stood pouring drinks.

"Elle you're back. Take this cup to table 3." He said putting a cup and saucer on a serving tray.

"I just got here! At least let me change or tell you we have guests." She whined but picked up the trey and marched over to the table.

"Guests? I'm sorry. Welcome to the Catacomb Club. How can we make your afterlife?" He said smoothly.

"Elle said we could eat sweets," Jon spoke up first and Damian elbowed him.

"Oh? Well, we have a batch of leftovers from this morning. Since you're her school friends you can get some from the kitchen." The barista said.

"Yay! Thanks Danny!" Elle had returned and opened the door to the backroom to grab some fresh plates and loading them up with sweets.

"Anything I can get for you, sir?" Danny asked Alfred.

"Just an Earl Gray. Or an Early Grave as you call it on the menu." Alfred said.

***

Elle presents a variable buffet of sweets to the boys. She really meant it when she said eat themselves sick.

The menu had no shortage of available snacks:

Tombstone Tarts – Mini fruit tarts with gravestone-shaped pastry toppers. (Jazz's pick)

Phantom Opera Cake – Layers of dark chocolate and coffee mousse with a smoky glaze.(Save a slice for Danny's SPECIAL guest (Jazz STOP)

Ethereal Cheesecake – A white chocolate cheesecake with a "foggy" vanilla glaze (You can just slap the word ethereal on things when you can't come up with something witty.) (Watch me)

Shadow Éclairs – Black cocoa éclairs filled with blood orange cream. (DANNY STOP EATING THE ORANGES) (no)

Soulful Scones – Charcoal scones served with berry jam and clotted cream.

Midnight Mocha Cupcakes – Chocolate cupcakes with espresso buttercream and a ghostly fondant topper. (Ew fondant)

Cemetery Soil – Chocolate pudding "dirt" with gummy worms and cookie gravestones. (Dani ate all the gummy worms again)

Wraith Cupcakes – Vanilla cupcakes with smoky gray frosting and sugar ghost toppers. (Dani's favorite)

Blackberry Bat Muffins – Dark muffins with blackberry compote and bat-shaped toppers. (Save some for that Cass girl)

Candied Skull Pops – Lollipops shaped like skulls in eerie colors.

Necropolis Nougat – Black and white nougat with bits of candied nuts and dried fruit. (Dan's favorite) (Weirdo)

Spirit’s Whisper Bark – White and dark chocolate bark with ghostly swirls and edible glitter.(please don't let Dani eat the glitter)

Moonlight Marshmallows – Homemade marshmallows in ghost or crescent moon shapes. (Danny's favorite)

Blood Velvet Rolls – Red velvet Swiss rolls filled with red cream cheese frosting. (Dan's favorite) (you can't have more than one favorite) (watch me)

Just like the rest of the menu there were comments going back and forth.

"The workers seem to argue constantly." Damian said bitting into a tart

Jon was making his way through the cake pops first.

"Well, we are family. We argue all the time but we don't mean it. Although I'm still mad they didn't like my dessert list." Elle sighed.

"Like what?" Damian asked.

"I had so many ideas like Eyeball pops filled with jelly, Bloody Bones white chocolate covered in raspberry syrup, or Maggot Macaroons with gummy worms in them," Elle said wiggling her fingers to mimic worms. "But Jazz said they were too gross sounding to sell. Humans have such weak stomachs."

Damian wanted to point out that Jon wasn't human and even he turned green. Damian on the other hand was intrigued. Elle was always entertaining to listen to.

The three enjoyed their snacks after Alfred finished his tea and took off.

Jon's Kryptonian appetite helped get through the bulk of it because Damian stopped short to not spoil his appetite.

This was wise since the Cafe preparing to switch to its bar setting with a more lively Jazz band and dinner menu.

Jon groaned at the thought of more food as he rested his face on the cool polished wood that smelled faintly of rose incense. He should have noticed by now that something as off but his stomach has been a major distraction. Had it been his father then who was trained to sense the issue the jig would have been up.

You see, they were the only mortals in the room.

Not one heartbeat could be heard. Jon should have known so much earlier when Elle managed to surprise him without her heart rate going up.

"Dani- I mean Elle?" A voice from the kitchen called.

A young woman with long red locks came into view. Her dress, a 50s style black tea-length poodle skirt. Instead of the usual poodle pattern on the hem, there was a white skeletal cat. She had on a pair of balck frilled short gloves. Other than her dress she wore an apron with a black ribcage design that matched the uniforms of the other workers/family members here. Her teal eyes softened when she saw Elle sitting with her friends

"Yeah, Jazz?" Elle asked.

"Do you still want to go on stage tonight or do you want to stay with your friends? And do you still want dinner?" Jazz asked in succession.

"I'm still going to do my set. And can I get carbonara and a glass of...um..." Elle struggled to find the word for the liquid that every undead in the area came here for. "My medicine."

Damian's ear picked up the hesitation in her voice.

"You take a perception?" Damian said perhaps a bit thoughtless since not everyone wants to talk about their medical issues. But he had never seen her take medicine at school and didn't know a medication that would be taken later in the day that wasn't also taken early.

"Kinda, it's something I have to take to keep living. But it like it, the juice I mean. You'd like it too but you don't need it. Dan is kinda stingy with who gets some. You types aren't allowed. Only members." Elle knew that this place was an open secret. It's not like they kept their ghostly nature secret. Everyone just thinks they are keeping up the theme while they were all completely serious. Besides lying isn't their nature.

Still, Elle wasn't being completely honest which isn't something that comes naturally to her. Bending the truth will have to do.

Damian let it go for now. He didn't need to know her medical history...yet.

Jon was taking a nap now anyways. Damian stole his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to the Kent family in case they wanted to know where Jonathan was.

Ellehad to change clothes into her uniform and grab her violin. It wasn't a surprise to Damian who knew she like music but he had never heard her play. Now she was on stage playing with the folk band as the guest clapped and danced.

Jazz brought out some food for them to eat while Danny traded places with a tall burly man who was definitely the eldest brother.

As Damian ate he listened to Elle play...well the band play but it was mostly Elle who he was listening for. He heard a familiar voice from behind his booth and when he looked over it was none other than Jason fucking Todd talking to the bartender. Talking? I meant failing miserably to flirt and having the tables turned on him easily.

[bakerstreet-and-beyond]

Hey please be careful in sharing things like this because a number of these things folks are claiming you can't search/get flagged since the Ban you very much still can search and or were things that were already being flagged for review BEFORE the 19th ...

Like- did we all forget talking about this over a year ago when there was a decrease in Pro-Palestine content due to outside suppression on the app or when real time Lives of fighting in Ukraine were being taken down? There's a reason why people on TikTok were using 🍉 and 🌻 instead of the flag or actually naming the countries.

Also the majority of negative comments being flagged about these awful people is because it contains the word "Fuck" which on Tumblr y'all've been dunking on how on TikTok you couldn't/can't say, "Fuck" "Kill" "Sex" "Die" etc in comments and descriptions for YEARS... Literally if you put those words in as tags, descriptions, captions or comments you get flagged; We've known this for A WHILE.

They took 170 MILLION users offline and then back, some issues people are reporting are literally growing pains of putting the servers in weird limbo life support after taking them down (technically the app is STILL banned) like the Live Feature needing about 24hrs to come back online and quality being nuked.

Certain users are missing or aren't uploading anymore because they deleted the app not because they are "Banned", which still since the app itself IS STILL technically banned, you can't re-download in the app store currently. We all thought it was the end and some actually deleted their accounts the day of because of how sure folks thought it was over.

Also the primary editing software people use for TikTok, Capcut, isn't back either because of this purgatory the app is in so people can't even make the videos they normally make too.

Under the cut here the actual results when you type in those terms into TikTok search and what I saw for Lives literally 48 hours ago

When Lives Feature came back on literally the first Live I got on my FYP was for a MLK Day parade and it was someone zooming in on a sign a little girl was holding that said "This is the Kings day, NOT his" followed by the next Live got was a gentleman walking around his neighborhood speaking in Spanish about how he's been up all morning checking out suspicious trucks in his neighborhood worried that they may be undercover ICE vans. Next Live I saw was someone talking about how no one can see her live and yet there was 5,000 people watching 🧍🏻the next video I literally got was a Luigi Update; unfortunately I didn't realize I should've taken screenshots of all this but also,

I'm in the US and not using a VPN, here are my results for the following as of 1/22/25:

The Radio Station only comes up as a banner at the top suggesting the account but, all the results are tho what you'd expect

These videos also are still here,

And this is what you get for searching "Fascism"

And our boi is still very much here

I hit my photo limit, but I implore you to type those terms in that supposedly have "no results anymore" and see they very much do and or realize that some things have already been removed well before the 19th

I really think letting us purposely spread that the app is now overly censored and the Meta buyout rumours is a tactic to further divide us. I really think, right now at least, the only thing they had to do was put "Thank You Donald Trump" in the return message, without having to actually change anything else, and then let folks go wild with the accusations, rumors, and conspiracies so then we all turn on the app ourselves and thus we won't cry about it being gone or that it gives us some falsely created moral high ground for deleting it/not using it anymore/etc and again will keep us more divided than together.

Literally this is destabilization tactics our government uses on other countries and it's own communities...

Thankfully there are creators on there who are also pointing this out as well as, just look at the comments on this post and you will see that others are saying, again in the US without a VPN you can still search these things in the post above.

It doesn't excuse the other fuckery definitely happening by any means but, they are letting us destroy ourselves and the 3rd space we created where we were the most united we've been on a platform in a while. They know how to push our buttons and we're all being played.

Already seeing people on tiktok saying “I still hate trump but he ate with this one” like … babes … you just got propagandized … that’s literally exactly what he created this situation in the hopes you would say …

[theorphicangel]

maybe I’m thinking about the moment sukuna sits yuji down and finally tells him the truth about him and reader

( full fic before this is here but not needed to read this drabble!!)

sukuna finally sits yuji down, it’s only the two of them in the living room with sukuna’s twin brother, Jin, away at work.

yuji was busy playing with his fire truck in front of the couch until he hears his uncle to come sit next to him.

'hey yuj' come here for a sec'

the little one comes by, his toy fire truck that sukuna had gotten him for christmas still in hand. his eyes are wide and curious, giving his uncle his full attention. just at this sight, sukuna feels his stomach drop.

how the fuck was he supposed to break it to a six year old that you won't be around anymore? yuji practically worshipped you, from the first time that he introduced the two of you, yuji got obsessed. he followed you around and bombarded you with questions, asking every little thing about you. he gave you his shitty drawings and you kept them, putting them on your fridge. you'd make time to sit and play with him, diving into yuji's imaginative world a whole lot better than sukuna ever did.

you were patient and caring around him which sukuna appreciated a lot, it made yuji look up to you and treasure you greatly.

but now...well it's not the same. you haven't come by in weeks and yuji's began to question your disappearance.

'well...' sukuna hesitated, his tongue suddenly caught in his throat. what were the right words? how should he phrase this correctly so that his nephew doesn't end up in complete tears?

'yuji, you know-'

yuji cuts him off, stating your name.

sukuna lets out a dry cough, 'yes...about her' he can't bring himself to say your name. '...well we broke up. a couple weeks ago.'

sukuna lets his words digest. yuji looks down at his lap, fiddling with his truck, trying to comprehend. 'broke up?'

'yeah,' sukuna sighs, 'we're not seeing each other anymore.'

silence forms in the living room excluding the clock on the wall suddenly loud in its tick-tick-tick-tick.

'so...she won't come over anymore?'

'no, she won't'

'oh, okay.' there's clear sadness in the six year old's voice, immediately disappointed and now sukuna understands what his brother meant when he said that it would hurt yuji more than it would hurt him.

sukuna throws a hand at reassurance. 'it's okay bud because you still have me... and-and we'll do fun things together alright?'

yuji nods before speaking again, reflecting a little.

'but aren't you sad?'

sukuna wasn't prepared for that question. he struggles to come up with a quick answer, hesitating. 'yeah...i am.'

'i don't want you to be sad 'kuna' yuji mumbles, kicking his feet.

'it's okay yuji, i'm-'

sukuna's words are cut off by yuji coming in for a hug. his toy is discarded with yuji now focused on the task of wrapping his tiny arms around sukuna's large frame. sukuna shifts yuji onto his lap and returns the hug.

sukuna barely hugs his nephew, only in circumstances where he knows he won't see yuji for a long time.

'i hope you feel better soon.' yuji mumbles, his voice muffled. sukuna says nothing more as suddenly his throat is caught and words fail to escape from his lips. if it didn't hit him before then it sure does hit him now.

he hopes yuji doesn't notice his eyes getting blurry.

[kateschi]

the line we crossed

synopsis: a charged night with your bodyguard leads to emotions bubbling to the surface.

pairing: bodyguard!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

the soft glow of the hotel room’s lights reflects off the polished surfaces, casting gentle shadows that make the entire place feel like a private sanctuary.

despite the quiet elegance of the setting, tension hangs thick in the air between you and bakugou.

it’s been a long night—one that’s taken an unexpected turn—and now you’re both standing in the middle of the room, the aftermath of it all settling in.

“you don’t have to be so rough, y’know,” you say, your voice wavering slightly as you pull your wrist free from his grip.

bakugou’s hand is firm around your arm, pulling you through the hallways, his frustration evident in the way he practically drags you after him.

“shut up!” bakugou snaps, his usual intensity dialed up even higher tonight.

“I told you multiple times not to go anywhere without me! and guess what? you go and almost get yourself damn kidnapped!” his voice echoes, cutting through the tension like a knife.

you feel a tight knot of frustration rise in your chest.

“why do you care so much anyway?” you shoot back, folding your arms over your chest, not entirely sure why his anger is making you feel so unsettled.

he isn’t usually this worked up, especially not about your safety—it’s his job, after all.

but there’s something about the way he’s handled the situation tonight, something that feels more personal than professional, and you can't ignore it.

“care?” his voice is thick with irritation. “are you dumb? this is my job!”

you shake your head, the sting of his words settling like a weight in your chest. “that’s not what I mean!” you fire back, your emotions rising.

bakugou is unflinching, his hands resting on his hips as if he’s expecting an explanation. and you, well, you can’t hold it back anymore.

the words spill out in a rush before you can stop yourself.

“a normal bodyguard doesn’t make sure the room is warm enough to my liking. a normal bodyguard doesn’t make sure my food is exactly how i want it every time.

a normal bodyguard doesn’t send flowers to my dressing room without me ever asking for them, and they sure as hell don’t learn every little thing about me—like my favorite songs or how I like my tea!

you’ve been doing all of that, and I don’t know why!” the words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered.

bakugou is silent for a moment, his intense gaze never leaving you.

his brow furrows slightly, and he visibly shifts his stance, almost as if what you’ve said has caught him off guard.

he glances away for a split second, then clicks his tongue, the sound cutting through the quiet room.

“that doesn’t change the fact that you’re at fault,” he mutters under his breath.

the frustration building inside you crests like a wave, and you find yourself unable to keep the tears back anymore.

your chest tightens, and you step back, not sure whether to cry or scream.

“I’m not talking about that anymore, katsuki,” you say, your voice low and shaky.

the sound of his first name leaves your lips before you can even register it, and the room falls into an unexpected stillness.

the shift is almost palpable. bakugou’s gaze snaps to yours, his entire demeanor changing in an instant.

there’s something raw in his eyes, something that hasn’t been there before, and you realize that you’ve done something—something that’s clearly unsettled him.

he opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat. you can see the conflict behind his eyes, the struggle between keeping up his tough exterior and admitting something deeper.

you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you refuse to back down now.

“do you like me?” you ask, slowly.

your pulse quickens as soon as they leave your mouth, but you don’t look away from him. you don’t have time to second-guess.

bakugou’s face flushes a deep shade of red, and for a second, he doesn’t speak, as if the question has caught him entirely off guard.

his eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth again, but his usual sharp retort doesn’t come. instead, he grunts, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“…does that matter?” he grumbles, looking away to avoid your gaze. “I’m gonna do my job perfectly anyway,” he says, his voice rough. “not weak enough to let feelings get in my way.”

you stare at him for a long moment, the truth of what he’s saying sitting between you both. he isn’t the type to mix personal feelings with his job, but you can see it now. you can see the cracks in his armor.

“I’m not worried about that,” you say, your voice quiet but with an underlying certainty.

and before you can stop yourself, you’re moving.

your hand reaches out, your fingertips brushing against his chest as you close the space between you.

you don’t know what comes over you in that moment, but the weight of everything you’ve just said—the tension, the fear, the desire to understand him—pushes you forward.

the kiss is tentative at first, as if neither of you truly knows how to navigate this moment.

but then, like a dam breaking, the kiss deepens, and you can feel the heat from bakugou’s body pressing into you, his hands roughly grabbing onto your shoulders and pulling you even closer.

his lips are demanding, heated, and there’s something undeniably possessive in the way he kisses you, as if he had all of this pent up inside.

he pulls away suddenly, his eyes blazing with something unrestrained.

“I tried holding back,” bakugou says lowly, his voice raw and his breath ragged. his chest is heaving against yours, and his hands tremble slightly as they grip your waist.

before you can react, he pushes you back against the wall, the force of it stealing your breath away.

your heart races, your body caught between fear and desire as his face looms close to yours. his eyes lock with your own, burning and intense.

“you’ve got no one to blame for this but yourself,” he mutters.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: Your life together with them🩵

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

Summary: various joint situations when you live with them.

A/N: I apologize for writing a little less often!

🩵🩵🩵

Cho Hyun Ju

Since the girl served in the army and got used to discipline, she will follow it while living with you. She always wakes up much earlier than you, about three hours, where you can sleep until 9-10 a.m., in some cases even before lunch if you get very tired. While you are sleeping, Hyun Ju will do a lot of things around the house (quietly so as not to wake you up), cook you a delicious breakfast and go to wake you up.

She will do it gently and carefully, stroking and kissing you wherever she wants. You sometimes grumble and tell her to lie down and sleep with you in a hug, but it doesn't affect her, so she continues to wake you up with kisses.

- Baby, it's time to get up, your favorite breakfast is already getting cold. And we have a lot to do. - she says gently, kissing your sweet lips.

After a couple of minutes, you still wake up and sleepily go to eat what your Hyunnie has prepared for you with love.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy has a lot of fun living with you. After all, you have new ideas almost every day. Again, recently you wanted to lose weight by the summer, you decided to run every morning. But it wasn't very good alone, so you forced your boyfriend to join you.

- So you want us to wake up at 7 a.m. on our weekend and run down the street when normal people will sleep? - he didn't understand at all why you need it, because you were beautiful.

- And you will run with me for the company! - Dae Ho only had to agree, he didn't want to offend you.

And he knew that soon you would get tired of it and you would throw away this idea, so he decided to be patient.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and the guy were complete opposites to each other. It was especially seen with household items. Su Bong was dirty. He constantly left his clothes all over the apartment: socks in the corners, clothes were lying on the backs of chairs. You were very unhappy with it, okay, unwashed dishes, but these are extremes.

- Can you stop scattering your clothes? Can't you put the clean ones in the closet, and throw the dirty ones in the laundry. I'm tired of cleaning up after you like a little child. - you mumbled when you removed his clothes from the chair again, while he was sitting on the phone.

- Yes, yes, good. - he said without much attention.

- If this happens again, all your things will fly to the trash!

- I got it, just don't be angry, my baby. - he put down the phone and started cleaning everything, then you rewarded him with a kiss.

But he won't be able to get used to it, so he'll still leave his things, but he's ready to clean up for your extra kisses.

Park Gyeong Seok

The three of you lived in a small apartment: you, your future husband and his daughter Na Yeon. Since the girl was undergoing treatment, she often stayed at home. But you and the man didn't want her to be alone, so you decided to take a housework and sit with Na Yeon.

You and the girl played a lot of her favorite games. She is very attached to you and even calls you mom.

When a man comes home from work, the girl asks him to join you and he, though tired, agrees, because he can't refuse his beloved girls.

Sometimes you and the girl like to mock him, so you can make up him with different makeup.

- Dad now a real princess! - said Na Yeon when she painted Gyeong Seok with children's cosmetics, you just laughed at this whole situation and at the face of a man who was both grumpy and smiling.

Nam Gyu

The guy loves cats very much, but since you both work a lot, you can't get a pet yet, but Gyu really wants to, so he started feeding street cats.

He thinks there's nothing wrong with that, but he was wrong. The cats are used to the fact that the guy began to feed them and they began to come to your house en masse, meowing and asking for food.

When you saw this, you were furious, you immediately called the guy and he had a shy face, he knew what was going on.

- Gyu, do you want to explain to me what's going on with cats here?

- Well... I fed them a little, it looks like they got used to it.. - you looked at him with an evil face, although you understood that he not on purpose.

- Now you will clean up after them, so that there is not a single shit from them! - you said and entered the house, he only agreed with you.

After this situation, the guy began to feed these pets less often, and you began to think that maybe you would give Nam Gyu a kitten.

🩵🩵🩵

[mariasont]

A Puddle in Running Shoes A.H.

summary: your boyfriend finds out you have a praise kink and is having way too much fun with that information

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: some suggestive content, hotch being a menace, reader having a praise kink, end suggests something may happen but nothing explicit in this one folks im getting my libido under control swear, also count how many times r refers to hotch's face as stupid im crying

wc: 1.9k

You hated running. No—loathed it. Detested it. Despised it with every fiber of your being. If there was a stronger word, one that captured the burning, irrational rage you felt whenever someone suggested going for a jog, Spencer might have known it, but you couldn't bring yourself to care enough to ask. Simply put, running was not your thing.

But when Aaron—your boyfriend and somehow the most persistent man alive—asked you to join you on a run, you couldn't exactly say no. He didn't beg—Aaron Hotchner did not beg—but his version of asking, that soft it'd mean a lot to me paired with an encouraging smile, was close enough to begging in your book. Besides, you figured there'd be some sort of reward when you got back home. Aaron was good at those.

So here you were, contributing absolutely nothing to your marathon-obsessed, fitness-loving FBI boyfriend's training. Sweat coated every inch of your body, your legs felt like lead, and your lungs burned with every ragged breath you managed to suck in. The sun blazed overhead, making you feel more like a roasting chicken than a willing participant in this so-called fun activity.

Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he'd stepped out of a fitness ad—shirt clinging to him in ways that felt outright scandalous. Even the sweat on his face somehow made him look even more attractive.

He was at least ten paces ahead of you and every few steps, he'd glance over his shoulder, probably checking to make sure you hadn't spontaneously combusted or snuck off to find an air-conditioned cafe. Honestly, both were real possibilities.

Aaron's pace slowed until he was running beside you, throwing you a smile so unfairly handsome it made your legs feel weaker than they already did.

"How are you feeling?" The question felt retorical—anyone, profiler or not, was sure to be able to read you like an open book right now. "Still alive, or do I need to start figuring out the best way to carry you home without breaking any traffic laws?"

"I think I'm alive," you managed between gasps, wiping sweat from your brow. "But if carrying me is on the table, I'm not above playing dead to make that happen."

"Not necessary—I'd carry you anyway, if only to reward you for keeping up this long. You're doing great."

You foot caught a crack in the pavement, nearly hurling yourself into it, but Aaron's hand was there quicker keeping you upright as you tried to ignore the terrifying way your body had reacted to his compliment.

"Okay you can't just say stuff like that while I'm trying to run," you blurted out, avoiding his gaze. "You're trying to kill me, I swear."

You planted your hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath, secretly relieved to have a break—even if it almost involved a face-first meeting with the sidewalk.

"Stuff like what?" He tugged at your ponytail and you swatted his hand.

"Nothing," you said way too quickly, shaking your head like you could physically toss what you said aside. "Forget I said anything. Let's just... keep running."

You quickly realized your mistake as soon as you started jogging again. You would never willingly suggest to keep running. Unfortunately, Aaron was actively aware of this, moving to come up beside you. You didn't need to look at him to know he had the stupidest smirk on his face.

He didn't say anything at first, to your immediate relief, just kept jogging beside you. The silence stretched on, his calm breathing only seeming to make your wheezing sound worse.

"You're breathing too shallow," he said after a moment, his tone completely casual like he wasn't even winded. "Try to take deeper breaths—match them to your strides. It'll make it easier."

You glanced towards him out of the corner of your eye before attempting his suggestion. You had no intention of letting him know that it worked. His ego was far too substantial for that.

"See? You're a natural," he said, shooting you a sidelong glance. "Atta girl."

Your brain flatlined and you almost tripped over your feet again, every rational thought replaced by static. What was wrong with you? You vaguely remembered reading somewhere that people with unresolved daddy issues were prone to developing praise kinks. Was that what this was? Whatever the reason, hearing Aaron talk like that shouldn't make you feel all gooey inside, but here you were, a puddle in running shoes.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yup, fine!"

You stared at the ground so intensely, it was a miracle you didn't bore a hole into the pavement. Your voice had betrayed you, far too shaky and way too rushed, and you knew Aaron was probably filing away every bit of your reaction.

"Hey," he said softly, his hand brushing against the back of your neck as he spoke. "Stop staring at the ground. You'll run better if you keep your head up—it'll open your chest so you can breathe easier."

His hand lingered for a second too long than what your body could handle, leaving you completely flustered and fighting every urge to do exactly the opposite of what he said.

"There you go," he murmured, a small, approving smile tugging at his lips. "That's good, honey. Just like that."

His voice—his god forsaken voice—was like a jolt to your system, and not in a good way. Or maybe it was a good way, which was the problem. It was bad enough to hearing it out here, on the jogging trail, but your brain decided to replay it in an entirely different inappropriate context: one that involved you, him, and a bed.

Your face burned, and you couldn't tell if it was from the exertion, or the very real possibility that your body was too receptive to those words. And now, not only were you fighting for every breath, but you were trying to figure out if the dampness between your legs was entirely from sweat. Surely it was sweat. Right? Gods, you hoped it was sweat.

You stopped so suddenly that Aaron jogged a few steps ahead before he realized you were not longer beside him.

"Okay, I'm calling it. I'm done. Can we please go home now?"

He jogged back to you, an easy smile on his face, and placed his hands on your shoulders as he reached you.

"Alright, we can be done," he teased, thumbs brushing lightly over your collarbones. "You survived, and you did great. I'm proud of you."

He leaned down then, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips that made the ache in your body a little easier to ignore.

When he pulled away, you barely managed to keep standing.

Aaron let out a low laugh, his hands squeezing your shoulders. "Alright. What's going on? What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said over your shoulder, practically power walking towards the car.

Aaron's laugh deepened and you ignored the funny feeling curling in your chest.

"Sweetheart," he said, gently tugging your elbow to slow you down. "Come on, talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about, I'm fine!" You avoided his eyes as you tugged your elbow free. "I'm just tired, and, uh, need a shower."

A cold shower, your brain screamed, but you shoved the thought down.

"I know, I know you're tired," he said, lips curving into a smile, "but that's because you actually pushed yourself. I'm proud of you for sticking with it."

You were pretty convinced you were you were about to go up in flames. Your obituary would read death by too many unnecessary compliments. When your heart inevitably gave out, Aaron would have to explain to Rossi and the others how his dumb smile and sweet words had resulted in second degree manslaughter.

But then you saw it—the smirk. The one that said he absolutely knew what he was doing.

"Oh my gosh, you know!" You groaned and threw your hands in the air. "You know, and you're enjoying this!"

Spinning away from him, you stormed to the car, and slammed the door like it might shield you from his stupidly smug face.

You barely had time to exhale before the passenger door swung open, revealing Aaron, casually leaning against the car.

"You know," he said lightly, his tone far too casual for your liking, "slamming car doors isn't a great habit. You could hurt yourself."

"And you know," you snapped back, pointing at him, "torturing your girlfriend isn't a great habit either!"

He leaned in slowly, his fingers brushing against your shoulder as he grabbed your seatbelt. As he clicked it into place, his face lingered close to yours.

"I wasn't trying to torture you, baby. Just wanted to give you the chance to admit it—that you liked it."

Before you could muster a reply, Aaron's hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb moving along your cheek. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was so deep, leaving you no choice but to sink into it, even as the faint remnants of your annoyance tried to surface.

By the time he pulled back, you felt like you were under his spell. Then, without another word, he shut your door and headed to the driver's side.

"That's not fair," you muttered, crossing your arms and pouting as you stared out the window.

Aaron's hand found the back of your neck as he backed out of the parking spot, rubbing gently into smooth circles.

"I don't mean to be unfair," he said with a small smile. "I just needed to hear it, because sometimes people don't even realize what they need until they say it out loud. And I wanted to make sure I didn't misread anything—though I'm rarely wrong, as you know."

"Trust me, you remind me every chance you get." Your tone was dry, but you were well aware that the twitch in your lip was giving you away.

"Alright, smartass," he said, chuckling as his fingers pressed a little firmer into your neck. "Now tell me—how does it make you feel when I say those things to you?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I don't know, okay? I just... like it! Do I have to explain it?"

"You don't have to explain it if you don't want to," he said, "but I'd like to know what it is you like so much."

Aaron's hand moved from your neck to your hand, his fingers sliding between each of yours while his eyes stayed glued to the road, a thing that only came from months of familiar motions.

You let out a long breath. "I don't know. I just like hearing it. It makes me feel good. Special, I guess."

"You are special, sweetheart." His eyes flicked to you before returning to the road. "You're my best girl."

Your stomach flipped violently. You shifted again, trying to disguise the way your thighs pressed together tightly as your face burned hotter than ever. The debate earlier in your head was officially over—absolutely not just sweat, you thought miserably.

Aaron let out a soft chuckle, fingers brushing over your knuckles. "Something I said?"

You swatted his shoulder, your glare losing all its bite thanks to the flush all over your body. "You're enjoying this way too much."

"I can't help it," he murmured, voice dipping just enough to get you on edge. "But don't worry—I'll take care of my best girl once we're home."

You slumped in your seat, muttering something unintelligible that made Aaron chuckle again. And even though you wouldn't admit it, you found yourself smiling, already dreading and anticipating whatever he had planned when you got home.

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[callmeizukunotdeku]

The worst part, of course, is why they notice.

It's because Robin got in over his head during patrol and Red Hood broke his no-kill streak.

Bruce's rules snapped back into place, just as taut as before.

Jason pulls back. He doesn't visit anymore and then Alfred's giving him the cold shoulder too. Dick is insisting that he get over himself.

"What was it that made you accept him? What made you okay with him before, B?"

"I...just got some good advice before."

"From who?"

Quietly, he admitted, "Tim."

The name jolted Dick, as he realized that his brother had slipped his mind.

He couldn't remember the last time he talked to Tim.

He couldn't remember the last time he thought about him.

"Call him," Dick said, "and put him on speaker."

If Bruce had taken Tim's advice just once--taken it and implemented it long term--then that was more than he'd ever done for Dick.

Bruce took out his phone.

It rang and rang and then--

"This number is not available."

Bruce furrowed his brow and muttered, "No, that can't be right. This is his contact..."

He messed around on his phone for another minute before calling again, and--

"This number is not available."

Dick swallowed, and thought, bitter and hopefully, that maybe Tim blocked Bruce, before remembering that they didn't want any more problems. Their family couldn't handle going back to the way they were before Bruce came back.

Dick couldn't handle a return to the way things were.

He'd break under the pressure. He knew he would.

Dick called Tim, but--

"This number is not available."

He didn't get a response.

"Try his secretary?" Dick suggested and Bruce called Tam.

And again, the phone rang and rang and--

"You're speaking to Miss Fox, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, how can I help you?"

You could have heard a pin drop in the room.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Bruce."

"And Dick," he added, "hi, Tam, how've'ya been?"

"Busy," she said, with some amount of humor in her voice, "Tim wasn't kidding when he said this job was grueling. I still wanted it though, and he thought I was the best person for it, so...here we are, I guess. Why are you calling, though? Y'all never call."

"Um," Dick started, not trusting Bruce to form a proper answer, "we were wondering how Tim was doing. We couldn't get ahold of him."

"Oh," she said, voice flatter than it was before, "yeah, he has a new number. I'll tell him you're trying to get in touch with him--"

"Give us the number," Bruce said.

It was silent on the other side of the line before there was a brief beep.

Tam hung up.

Bruce tried her number again, but it went straight to voicemail.

Dick was in the middle of trying to figure out a reasonable plan when Bruce called out, "Clark."

The man was there not a moment later, "Bruce. What do you need?"

"Where's Tim?"

"Ivy, I presume. Why do you ask."

"What's he doing with Pam?"

Clark gave him a confused look. "Who?"

"Pamela Isley? Poison Ivy?"

"He's...I meant to say that he's in Ivy Town. He's been attending university there for a few months now. Kon visits him often--brings him back to the farm, sometimes. Ma loves him--says he's a natural baker but Tim just always argues that it's because he's studying chemistry and--I'm sorry," he cut himself off, "why are you asking?"

Again, it was quiet for a moment before Dick said, "We were just trying to get ahold of him."

"Ah," Clark nodded, "his number changed again, didn't it? Do you want his new one?"

"No," Dick said at the same time that Bruce said, "Yes."

Dick glared at him, "No. We'll wait for him to call us."

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[gothamite-rambler]

Karen (holding a purse with a broken strap): Hey! Hey! You owe me my five hundred bucks!

Red Robin (sighing): No.

Karen: No?! You little brat!

Red Robin (dryly): I'm in my twneties.

Karen: Don't care, Batman, arrest him! Or like, punish him!

Batman stood on the side, eating a sandwich, looking around confused, then continued eating his sandwich pretty much checked out for the night. He had a different mission and it was slow for the night.

Red Robin: I got your purse back. Why are you mad at me?

Karen (shouting): The strap is broken!

Red Robin: Because I had to fight the snatcher for it! Then I returned it back to you! I'm not asking for a thanks, but you have to understand mistakes happen!

Karen: This is a Marc Jacobs bag, okay? Mistakes don't excuse that! This is worth so much money!

Batman walked over to the group and examined the purse.

Batman: This is a knock-off. The straps aren't that thin and don’t break easily. The stitch work is off and Marc Jacobs doesn't sell purple versions of this.

Red Robin: I didn’t want to point that out, but yeah, you have a counterfeit purse. Which is fine.

Batman (rich man opinion): It’s really not.

Red Robin (upper middle class opinion): Not everyone can afford the expensive name brand.

Batman: Saving money is a thing.

Red Robin: Would you take a walk!

Batman walked off, indifferent to the situation while continuing to eat his sandwich.

Karen (in denial): It’s not a knock-off or counterfeit! I’ll have you know my cousin knows a guy who sells these, and he said they are a hundred percent authentic.

Red Robin: Looks real, obviously fake, don’t care. Can I just pay you back and then you leave?

Karen: You— Wait, really?

Red Robin sighed, pulling out a large stack of paper money and handed the woman double what she was demanding. Karen took the money, surprised.

Karen: Oh… Well, I’m not thanking you. Here, you keep the damaged one! I took out all my valuables!

Karen stormed off, eager to score a thousand dollars. Red Robin held onto the purse and sighed, exhausted.

Red Robin (regretting some of his life choices at the moment): The purse sells for two hundred dollars, and I gave her a thousand… I better get some good karma from this.

Spoiler walked over, humming a song from Epic the Musical. Upon seeing the purse, she perked up.

Spoiler (taking the purse and looking it over): This is nice! I've never seen one of these up close! My ma's cousin Michelle has one and she's always rubbing it in our faces that she can afford one. The lady who lost this bling is lucky.

Red Robin: Nope, she pitched a fit because the strap broke when I yanked it from the thief. She didn't have to curse me out. Also, it's a knock-off.

Spoiler (not caring as she put her arm through the shorter straps): Knock-off, smock-off, this is nice. Purple too, now I can have my tumbler match my bag! Oh wait, can I keep it?

Red Robin: The strap is broken.

Spoiler (checking the broken strap): Boy, please! My ma has a sewing machine. But to be fair, the short straps are still intact. It's so spacious too. Please let me keep it, or I'll buy it off you.

Red Robin (shrugging): It's yours. Happy birthday or whatever.

Spoiler grinned happily and then hugged Red Robin.

Spoiler: And my ma said you can't be friends with your exes.

Red Robin: To be fair, her ex is Cluemaster.

Spoiler shrugged, walking off with her new purse while Red Robin followed her, smiling at her energy.

[chdarling]

ok so, I can't, like, set a precedent for every time there is a catastrophic event in my country I post a TLE spoiler because let's be real, that's gonna be every day for the next four years at least and I only have so many non-major-spoilery TLE bits to share. But I'm making my way through an emergency bottle of prosecco and texting my friends about how in the face of the endless onslaught of late stage capitalism, fanfic -- a community built purely around love and joy and not a single drop of money being exchanged -- is in a small way something radical and precious and dare I say holy (did I mention I was drunk) and that should be honored on today of all fucking days, and ALSO we should all spend less time staring at gifs of that evil-ass motherfucker doing nazi salutes and more time crafting joy and creating community with each other so

here is a lil snippet from TLE3

as with all my spoiler snippets, I reserve the right to completely rewrite this before the final draft because honestly this was mostly an exercise in me learning how to craft sentences again mid-burnout, but!!!! here, have a lil moment of joy, maybe. i love you.

Excerpt from The Last Enemy: Marauders’ End

“So, what do you think?”

Sirius turned expectantly to his best mate, who stood beside him as the boys peered through the doorway of Sirius’s second bedroom. The room had been unoccupied at the time of Sirius moving into this flat a few weeks ago. Now…it decidedly was not.

“Er…” said James, who did not quite seem to know how to answer the question.

“Her name is Lola,” Sirius added in a reverent tone.

“She has a name, does she?”

“Of course she has a name, you pig.”

“Right,” said James. “Well, then frankly, I’m a bit hurt you moved out and left me for Lola.”

Sirius knocked his shoulder against James’s. “Come on. I didn’t leave you. We’ve been over this. I’m of age, I was going to have to get my own place eventually.”

“Yeah, okay, sure, but you barely made it a month before you shacked up with your new flatmate, Lola.”

Sirius grinned. “She’s sexy, isn’t she?”

“She’s…very shiny.”

“She’s the goddamn love of my life.”

“Okay, ‘she’ is a motorbike, mate. You’ve gone completely batty.”

Sirius laughed and strode further into the room where indeed the Muggle motorbike had been set up, dominating the space. It was a thing of beauty, all sleek lines and silver glint. The floor around the motorbike was haloed with the detritus of Sirius’s last few delicious days: all sorts of mechanical bits and bobs, empty beer bottles, an ashtray, a crumpled up bag of crisps, a few oily rags, and a confusion of Muggle tools, the names of which Sirius kept mixing up — a socket wrench, he thought that one was called. The spare bed that had once been the primary feature of this room — a springy mattress James had transfigured for the nights he was too pissed to apparate home (“Mum won’t mind, she put the security spells on your flat herself.”) — had been shoved into the corner to make room for this new sacred altar.

James did not seem as impressed with Sirius’s new acquisition as he felt his friend ought to be. “You’re just jealous,” Sirius told him, “that you’ve never known a love so true.”

“Ha. Touché.”

Sirius pulled a rag from his back pocket and began to lovingly polish a spot on the seat of the motorbike.

“You know,” said James, still observing from his post at the doorway, “I’m not sure it’s healthy, you spending so much time by yourself.”

“What time by myself?” laughed Sirius. “You’re here almost every day.”

This was true. Hardly a day had passed so far this summer that James hadn’t found a reason to come by. Not that Sirius minded. Though he’d never admit it, he liked living on his own rather less than he’d expected.

“Yeah, well…” James strode closer to inspect the motorbike. “Someone has to make sure you don’t go completely bonkers, all on your own here. Lola, I ask you. You know, if you start talking to the bike, mate, I’m hauling you off to St. Mungo’s too.”

Sirius leaned down and whispered to the handlebars: “Don’t listen to the mean man, Lola. I’d never leave you.”

James sat down on the spare bed with a mournful creak. “Besides,” he said, “Potter House is too quiet now, with you gone and dad all…entombed. Some days I think if I don’t get out, I’m the one who will go bonkers.”

Sirius turned back to his friend, suddenly somber. “Hey, you know I’m just joking, right? You’re always welcome over here. I love having you here.”

“Yeah,” said James, though the faintest tint of melancholy compromised his credulity. Sirius watched as James plucked an oil-stained rag from the bed, sniffed it, then tossed it aside with a wrinkled nose.

“How are things…?” Sirius ventured. “With your dad?” Fleamont Potter’s health had been in steady decline for years, but last Christmas things had taken a turn for the worse. The diagnosis seemed to be simply that he was old…though Sirius had a hard time wrapping his head around that. “Have things gotten any better?”

“No,” said James shortly. “And they’re not going to. It is what it is.” He glared at the wall for a brief moment, then sighed — a deep, intentional sigh, as though exhaling all his miseries in order to transform himself back to Sirius’s good-natured friend. “So…does she work?”

“The fuck d’you mean, ‘does she work?’”

“Well,” said James, “it hasn’t escaped my notice that the bike is in your spare bedroom, rather than, say, on the street. So either you and Lola have a far kinkier relationship than I care to know about…or she doesn’t work.”

A pause.

“She’s a work in progress, okay?”

“Knew it,” grinned James.

“Hey, have some respect,” said Sirius. “I’m fixing her up myself. It’s far cooler than just buying some shiny toy from a shop. This is my bike. Mine. I’ll make her fly, just you wait.” He stroked the bike handle. “Isn’t that right, Lola?”

“Yep,” sighed James. “Completely bonkers.”

[woozinhos]

Hiiiiii okay so reader has a crush on mingyu and mingyu doesn’t care for her and wonwoo gets tired of her ass so he fucks her on mingyus bed ( ROUGHH) till all she can do is cry and scream ( he fucks her dumb basically)

Even on his bed I’m still better

Notes: stop why are all my fics so long today and why are they all hitting so good!

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

Juicy smut below the cut

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

The atmosphere was lively and loud as you stood chatting with Mingyu at the party. He was his usual charming self, laughing and joking with you, but you couldn't help feeling a flutter of nerves every time he smiled at you. You had been nursing a crush on him for months, and every time you saw him, your heart would race. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was something between you two, even if he didn't seem to notice.

Wonwoo stood off to the side, watching the two of you with a growing sense of frustration. He had been trying to get your attention all night, but it seemed like you were too caught up in your conversation with Mingyu to notice him. Mingyu was polite and friendly, but you couldn't help but notice that he didn't seem to reciprocate your feelings. He laughed at your jokes and smiled at your attempts to flirt, but there was always a hint of detachment in his expression. You tried not to let it get to you, but deep down, it stung. You couldn't understand why he wasn't interested in you when you were so obviously smitten with him.

As the conversation with Mingyu continued, you found yourself growing more and more flustered. You tried to steer the conversation in a direction that would make him realize your feelings, but he remained oblivious. You felt a pang of jealousy as he joked with another girl nearby, laughing at something she said. Wonwoo's frustration only grew as he watched you pine after someone who clearly wasn't interested. Wonwoo finally couldn't take it anymore. He walked over to where you and Mingyu were standing and inserted himself into the conversation.

"Hey," he said, his voice firm. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" Mingyu looked a bit surprised at Wonwoo's interruption, but he nodded and stepped away to give you two some privacy. You followed Wonwoo to a quieter corner of the room, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

Once you were alone, Wonwoo turned to face you, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. "You need to stop," he said bluntly. "Stop flirting with Mingyu and wasting your time." You were taken aback by his bluntness, but you couldn't deny that a part of you had been expecting this conversation. "Why?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. "He's not interested, I know that, but I can't just give up." Wonwoo's frustration grew as he saw the stubborn look on your face.

"You're so blind," he said, his voice rising slightly. "Mingyu doesn't care about you like that, and you're just setting yourself up for heartbreak." You crossed your arms, defensive. "You don't know that," you retorted. "Maybe he just needs a little push." Wonwoo shook his head, clearly exasperated. "No, he doesn't. He's made it clear that he doesn't see you that way. You're just wasting your time chasing after someone who will never love you back."

His words stung, but you couldn't deny the truth in them. You had seen the way Mingyu acted around you, the way he never reciprocated your flirting or gave any indication that he was interested. But despite that, you still held onto hope that things could change. "Maybe I'm just being optimistic," you said quietly, looking down at the ground. Wonwoo couldn't hold back any longer. He stepped closer to you, his eyes burning with a mix of frustration and longing.

"No, you're being stubborn and stupid," he said, his voice firm but tinged with desperation. "Because I'm the one who loves you. I've been right here, watching you chase after someone who doesn't deserve you." Your eyes widened in surprise as his words sank in. You had never seen Wonwoo like this before, so raw and vulnerable. "What?" you whispered, your heart racing. "You...you love me?" Wonwoo nodded, his expression a mixture of relief and vulnerability.

"Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've loved you for a long time, but I never said anything because I thought you were in love with Mingyu." Your mind was racing as you tried to process his confession. You had always thought of Wonwoo as a close friend, but you never considered the possibility that he felt something more for you. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked, your voice shaking slightly. Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated and defeated.

"I didn't want to ruin our friendship," he said. "I didn't want to risk losing you if you didn't feel the same way. So I kept quiet and watched you chase after someone who doesn't deserve you." Wonwoo looked at you with a mixture of hope and pleading in his eyes.

"Please," he said softly. "Give me a chance. I know I'm not perfect, but I'll do anything to make you happy. Just stop chasing after someone who doesn't appreciate you and let me show you how much I care." You were torn. On one hand, you had spent so long pining after Mingyu that it felt like giving up on him would be letting go of a part of yourself. But on the other hand, there was Wonwoo, standing in front of you, confessing his love and offering you a chance at something real.

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all you saw was sincerity and longing. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the decision you were about to make. "Okay," you said quietly. "I'll give you a chance." Wonwoo's eyes lit up with hope and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Really?" he asked, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You mean it?" You nodded, a small smile of your own forming.

"Yeah, I mean it," you said. "I'm tired of chasing after someone who doesn't want me. I'm ready to give you a chance." Wonwoo's eyes darkened with a mix of desire and determination. "I want to show you how much I've been wanting you," he said, his voice low and seductive. "Will you let me?" You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his voice. The way he was looking at you, as if you were the only person in the world, made your heart race with anticipation.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "Show me." Wonwoo's grip on your wrist was firm as he led you upstairs, his strides long and purposeful. He didn't even hesitate as he opened the door to Mingyu's room and pulled you inside, closing the door behind him. The room was dark, with only the soft glow of a lamp illuminating the space. Wonwoo pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours. He pinned you against the wall, his hands roaming over your body as he pressed his lips against your neck.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. Wonwoo's words were rough and possessive, his desire for you clear in his voice. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes burning with intensity. "Let me show you how much better I am than him," he repeated, his fingers tracing a path down your body. "Let me make you forget all about Mingyu." Wonwoo smirked as he continued to press you against the wall, his hands moving lower and lower down your body.

"Even on his bed, I'll still be better," he whispered in your ear, his voice dripping with confidence. "I'll make you scream my name and forget all about that idiot." Wonwoo pushed you onto the bed, his body following closely behind. He hovered over you, his eyes raking over your body with a possessive hunger. "You're mine now," he growled, his hands roaming over your curves. "No more Mingyu, no more thinking about anyone else but me."

"Yes," you gasped out, your breath catching in your throat as he continued to touch you. "I'm yours. Only yours." Wonwoo's lips curled into a satisfied smirk at your words. He leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth and exploring every inch. As he kissed you, his hands continued to roam over your body, his touch growing more urgent and possessive with each passing moment.

Wonwoo broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. He nipped and sucked at your skin, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. "You have no idea how long I've dreamed of having you like this," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. "All mine, writhing and moaning beneath me." Wonwoo's hands made quick work of the fabric of your dress, slowly revealing more and more of your skin. He pushed the material down your body, his eyes drinking in every inch of you as it fell to the floor.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his fingers tracing patterns across your bare skin. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you like this." Wonwoo tossed his t-shirt aside, revealing his toned chest and muscular arms. He looked down at you with a hungry expression, his eyes roaming over your body.

"You're perfect," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I can't believe I almost let you slip away from me." He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, his skin hot against yours. You could feel his hardness pressing against you through his jeans, and he let out a low growl of frustration.

"I need you," he said, his lips finding your ear. "Now."

Wonwoo's hands moved to the waistband of your panties, his fingers tracing the edge teasingly. "Lift your hips for me," he commanded, his voice firm and commanding. You obeyed his command, lifting your hips off the bed. Wonwoo slowly pulled your panties down your legs, his eyes fixed on the sight of your exposed body.

"You're even more beautiful than I imagined," he said, his voice low and husky. "And all mine."

"Get on your hands and knees," Wonwoo commanded, his eyes dark with desire. "I want to take you from behind."

"I'm sorry, but I need to show you what you've been missing," Wonwoo repeated, his voice filled with a mix of apology and determination. "You deserve to feel pleasure like you've never felt before." You slowly got onto your hands and knees, your body trembling with anticipation. As you presented yourself to Wonwoo, you felt a mix of vulnerability and excitement coursing through your veins. You could feel the heat of his gaze on your body, his eyes roaming over every curve and contour. You could sense the tension in the air, the unspoken promise of pleasure that was about to be fulfilled. Wonwoo positioned himself behind you, his hands running over your back and down to your hips. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as he whispered in your ear.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look like this," he said, his breath hot against your skin. "All mine, ready and waiting for me." He trailed his lips down your spine, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. His hands continued to explore your body, his touch growing more confident and possessive. "I'm going to make you feel so good," he promised, his voice low and seductive. "I'm going to make you forget everything but my name." Wonwoo slowly pushed himself inside you, filling you up inch by inch. He let out a low groan of pleasure as he bottomed out, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice strained. "You feel so good. So tight and perfect." Wonwoo set a punishing pace, his thrusts hard and rough as he pounded into you from behind. Each movement was filled with purpose, as if he was determined to erase any memory of Mingyu from your mind. He leaned forward, his chest pressed against your back, his lips finding the nape of your neck. He bit down gently, marking you as his own. As you arched your back, pushing your body against him, Wonwoo's grip on your hips tightened. He adjusted his angle, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with every thrust.

"You're so good for me," he panted, his voice thick with pleasure. "Taking me so well, just like you were made for me." Wonwoo tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling your head back slightly. The sudden sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you moaned loudly in response. "That's it," he growled, his grip on your hair tightening. "I want to hear you moan for me. I want everyone to know who you belong to."

"Scream my name," Wonwoo commanded, his voice rough and dominant. "Let everyone know who's making you feel this way." As he continued to pound into you, his thrusts growing faster and harder, you couldn't hold back any longer. The pleasure was too much, and you screamed his name. "Wonwoo!" you cried out, your voice echoing through the room. Wonwoo's grip on your hair loosened as he heard you scream his name, and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. "That's it, baby," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. "You're mine. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Wonwoo," you panted, your voice ragged with pleasure. "I'm all yours." He growled in response, his thrusts becoming more urgent and desperate. He was close, and he wanted you to come undone for him. "Say it again," he demanded, his fingers digging into your hips. "I need to hear you say it one more time."

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted, the words spilling from your lips like a mantra. You could feel your orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tight in your core.

"That's it," Wonwoo groaned, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby. Come for me and I'll give you everything." You felt your body tense, your muscles coiling tightly as your orgasm washed over you. You cried out Wonwoo's name, your body shaking with the force of your release. Wonwoo followed soon after, his own climax crashing over him as he thrust into you one final time. He buried his face in your neck, his body shuddering against yours as he came deep inside you. Wonwoo's thrusts slowed as he rode out his orgasm, his body trembling against yours. He held you close, his arms wrapping around you as he caught his breath.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "You're amazing. I don't think I've ever felt that good before."

Wonwoo carefully pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, pulling you with him so that you were lying on top of him. He traced lazy patterns on your back, his fingers skimming over your skin. “I'm never letting you go," he murmured, his voice filled with possessiveness. "You're mine, forever." Wonwoo reached over and grabbed a blanket, pulling it over the two of you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you snuggled into his chest.

"We should stay like this for a while," he said, his voice sleepy. "Just us, no one else."

"That was...incredible," you murmured, your voice soft and dreamy. "You were incredible."

All of a sudden the door swung open and Mingyu walked in, stopping in his tracks as he took in the sight of you and Wonwoo lying together on his bed, wrapped up in each other. His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment he just stood there, speechless. Mingyu's eyes darted around the room, taking in the scattered clothes and the obvious signs of what had just happened. He looked back at you and Wonwoo, his expression a mix of shock and anger.

"What the hell is going on here?" he demanded, his voice sharp. Wonwoo smirked, his arms tightening around you as he spoke.

"Just showing her what she's been missing, that's all," he said casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "And I must say, she's been enjoying herself quite a bit."

[djarindroid]

Surviving

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Reader

Summary: After getting you through the third game will Thanos stay true to his word and help you get out alive?

Warnings: Brief mentions of death, Alternative Universe (deviates from the show story line), Thanos still ooc in places (sorry I can't help but write him as a bit of a softy).

Word Count: 1,881

Comments: Thank you to everyone that read part one! This one isn't as long as is more of a build up to part 3 💕 Apologies to any Nam-Gyu lovers, I had to give him a bit of shit in this

<- Part one

The walk back to the dormitory was as quiet as ever, though Thanos didn’t leave your side the entire time. He kept his hand firmly clasped around yours, willing you forward. His grip was so tight, as if letting go might send you spiraling.  

As you filtered back into the dormitory the absence of the fallen players became painfully apparent. Only 100 of you remained, making the once cramped room feel eerily spacious.

‘Min-Su!’ Thanos called out, tugging you along with him. He pulled the reluctant boy into a big hug.  ‘I’m so happy to see you again, bro,’ he said. His enthusiasm felt wildly out of place but what else would you expect from him? 

You watched the odd exchange. Min-Su clearly didn’t want to talk to Thanos. As you watched him awkwardly try to pull away a flicker of doubt crept into your mind - had you made a mistake trusting Thanos so easily? 

Before you could dwell on it Thanos gripped Min-Su’s shoulders, his tone turning serious. ‘We’re voting to leave this time bro. No more games, you got it?’ Shock took over Min-Su’s face, his gaze briefly flickered to you before managing a nod.

‘What happened to staying until we hit 1 billion?’ a voice interjected. Player 124, Nam-Gyu slid up to the group, and patted Thanos on the shoulder.

Thanos, clearly irritated, released Min-Su, allowing the boy to scurry away, as his attention turned to Nam-Gyu. His eyes looked pointedly from the hand on his shoulder to Nam Gyu’s face. ‘Things changed,’ he offered simply.

Nam-Gyu looked momentarily confused before his gaze shifted to you, his eyes widened with apparent understanding. ‘Aaah, I see how it is bro,’ he said whilst making an exaggerated gesture toward you. Your stomach sank at the implication.

Thanos stepped fully in front of you, blocking you from view. ‘What do you see, huh?’

Nam-Gyu shrugged, unfazed. ‘You’re playing the hero, getting yourself a lil something to keep you warm at night right?’ He raised his eyebrows suggestively. ‘I don’t blame you bro, maybe you could share though?’

In the blink of an eye Thanos had grabbed Nam-Gyu by the front of his shirt and yanked him close. ‘You don’t know a thing about me and you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,’ his voice was low and sounded dangerous.

Nam-Gyu grabbed at Thanos’ hand trying to pry himself free, ‘okay man, I’m sorry! I’m sorry okay?’ He desperately tried to apologise. ‘Just thought something was going on.’

‘Why don’t you go follow someone else about?’ Thanos said with finality, releasing Nam-Gyu and shoving him away in the process. ‘Idiot,’ he muttered before finally turning back to you. 

You stood in shock, your face probably mirroring Min-Su’s had earlier. Had that just happened? How had Thanos changed so much in such a short time? Not only was he helping you but he was standing up for you now too.

His expression softened as he met your eyes. ‘Don’t listen to that idiot,’ he gestured over his shoulder. You nodded, the words of thanks on the tip of your tongue. But before you could speak, the pink guards entered and announced the next vote.

The vote was once again being conducted in reverse order, starting with player 456 who stayed steady with his vote to leave. The tally flickered unevenly, between staying and leaving, the gap changing with every decision.

The uncertainty gnawed at your insides. You twisted the hem of your tracksuit as you tried to calm yourself. Thanos noticed, his hand reaching out just enough to brush against your own. ‘Relax,’ he murmured, his voice soft enough that no one else could hear. ‘It’s gonna be okay.’

You glanced up at him, his calm expression steadying you, if only for a moment. Though as the vote went on the anxiety continued to claw at your chest. 

When your number was called, you moved forward quickly. You wanted to get this done. You didn’t waste any time pressing the red X, adding another vote to leave. You looked up and watched the number change to 24. Leave was still behind, but only barely.

As you joined the others stood on the giant red X the next number was called. ‘Player 230.’ Thanos’ number. You hadn’t realised he would be following you up there.

He waltzed through the centre of the room, giving you a quick wink as he passed. Your heart raced as he approached the pedestal. Had he been serious? Or was Nam-Gyu right, was Thanos just playing the hero in an attempt to win you over? 

You felt as though your life was in the balance as he approached the machine. Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you watched with a bated breath.

He didn’t hesitate, as soon as he was in arms length he slammed his hand down on the red X. Relief took over you as you watched the leave total climb to 25. A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. O’s looking disgruntled to lose, what they thought, was an easy vote, whilst the X’s buzzed with cautious excitement.

Thanos proudly ripped off his O badge and turned to look at you as he firmly pressed the red X into place. He was smiling as he sauntered over to you. ‘Told you I’d get you outta here,’ he said, slinging his arm around your shoulders as he led you further into the leave group.

That’s how you stayed for the remainder of the vote, nestled into Thanos’ side. Each time someone voted to leave he squeezed your arm, his smile growing wider with every additional tally. 

The remaining votes thankfully went quickly, and soon enough, there were only 3 people left. To go home, 2 out of the final 3 had to vote leave.

The atmosphere in the room was suffocating. The tension seemed charged, making it hard to breathe. Every shift and murmur felt amplified, like the walls were pressing in. 

‘Player 007,’ the next player was called forward.

All eyes were on him as he walked to the front. The faint squeak of his shoes seemed to echo around you.  

As he neared the pedestal you heard an elderly woman reassuring other players - ‘don’t worry. My Yong-Sik will definitely press X this time.’  

Perfectly on cue, player 007 slammed the X button down, with his new badge in hand he turned and shouted ‘LET’S GO HOME!’ 

Everyone around you cheered. The joy around you was infectious, but amidst the celebration a small voice in the back of your mind reminded you that it wasn’t over yet. 

Thanos must have noticed the flicker of worry on your face because his arm tightened around you. ‘She voted leave last time,’ he said quietly, drawing your attention to the lady who was about to vote. ‘This could be it señorita.’

Silence once again settled across the room as player 006 stood in front of the pedestal. Her hand hovered indecisively between the two buttons as she stared up at the screen. Each second dragged on as she held the fate of everyone’s lives in her hand.

The anticipation was unbearable. You could hear your own heartbeat thundering in your chest. The only thing keeping you steady was Thanos’ unwavering grip around you.

Finally, her hand went down.

The red X lit up.

For a moment the room was silent, as everyone processed what had just happened. Then chaos erupted around you, as cheers of joy rang out . It was over. You were going home!

Thanos pulled you into a tight hug that lifted you off the ground. He jumped around, shouting with unrestrained joy. You got swept up into the moment, throwing your arms around him and laughing along. The fear that had been looming over you completely melted away in that moment. 

‘I told you!’ He shouted. ‘I told you I’d get you outta here!’ Tears stung the corner of your eyes, he was right. If he hadn’t changed his vote you could’ve been left in a tie and who knows what would've happened then.

‘Thank you,’ you cried into his neck as he continued to hug you. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’ 

‘Hey!’ He pulled back with his signature smirk plastered on his face. ‘I thought I told you pretty girls shouldn’t cry.’ He wiped your tears away as you laughed.

‘These are good tears this time, thank you!’ You pulled him back into another hug, letting the relief of surviving take over you. He seemed momentarily surprised that you’d initiated a hug but quickly recuperated and hugged you back just as tightly.

Suddenly the voice of the soldier rang out, ‘the majority has voted to terminate the games. We find it a pity to say goodbye so soon. The money accumulated will be distributed among you evenly. The preparations for your departure will now commence.'

Thanos had let go of you during the announcement. Instead, he stood rooted in place, staring up at the screen where the prize money was displayed. You followed his gaze, taking in the amount, it was more than enough to settle your debt.

You turned your attention back to Thanos. His expression was unreadable, his jaw was tense and his hand reached for his necklace. He gripped the cross tightly, his knuckles whitening.

You reached out and gently touched his arm. ‘Are you okay?’ You asked softly.

‘Huh?’ he blinked and slowly turned his head to you, his eyes remained fixed on the screen until the last moment. ‘Oh yeah! Of course I am, princess!’ The forced lightness in his tone was given away by the tension in his shoulders. 

You studied him for a moment. ‘Are you sure?’ you asked, leaning closer.

His eyes flicked between your own, you could see the internal struggle, as if he was battling whether to let you in or not. But before he could say anything the guard began to explain the instructions for you all to leave. You barely registered their words, keeping your eyes and thoughts on the man beside you.

He’d been such a high energy mere moments ago, but now that freedom was within reach, something seemed…off. As if the thought of leaving unsettled him more than staying ever had. You wished you could help him, like he had helped you. You watched as his eyes flickered between the guards and the money on the screen. 

Suddenly, a faint hissing sound filled the air. You glanced upward in confusion. The guards continued to talk as if nothing were happening, their muffled voices blending with the sound, but you noticed a strange, sweet scent filling the room.

Around you other players began to sway on their feet, some stumbling before collapsing to the ground. Panic began to rise in your chest as your vision blurred. You reached out to Thanos as the world tilted.

His eyes met yours, wide and dark, and for a fleeting moment his lips parted as if he wanted to say something. But the strange gas was taking hold. Your knees buckled and your grip on him loosened. The last thing you saw before darkness consumed you was Thanos’ face, as he too fell to the ground by your side. 

-> Part Three (Coming Soon)

Taglist: @andersonslove @fallout-girl219 @olasz-2003

[idyllicbarb]

FOREVER MY LADY, AARON PIERRE

synopsis: a look into your world being aaron pierre’s love interest in a new film.

pairing: aaron pierre x actress!reader

warnings: slow burn, flirty!aaron, shy!reader, cussing, fluff.

word count: 2k+

You've been acting since you were ten-years old. Watching your mother and father become award winning stars motivated you to become one yourself. Now, you're thirty-years old with a few Emmys on your shoulder. Though, your biggest goal is to become an Oscar winner. Time feels as if it's running out for you, though the journey towards the life you’ve always dreamed of is slowly working out for itself.

There's this itch in the back of your mind, you can't scratch it. You feel as if it has something to do with your love life. It's shitty and lonely, you always hear your girls gossip about how the dating pool is shit.

You haven't had a serious relationship since college. Your boyfriend was your high school sweetheart, you two decided to keep the relationship going by attending Spelman and Morehouse College. Things took a turn when you caught him cheating on you during a block party. Ever since, you've stayed to yourself and your work. Keeping a small circle of friends and always staying in-touch with your family; the thought of a relationship has moved to the back of your mind.

"Girl, men would perish if you gave them one teeny tiny little chance," Your friend, Chastity, said while fixing your hair before you two hit the town for the evening. You laughed her off, reminding her that you're committed to your craft.

"Yes I know, but having a lil' yeah or a lil' shit shouldn't knock you off balance that much." Your brows furrowed in confusion.

"A lil' shit? What the hell is a lil' shit, Chasity?" You stare at your friend in confusion, she shrugs her shoulders while putting the finishing touches on your hair.

"My niece says that's what the kids say nowadays, it's kinda cute," Chasity says spraying herself with your perfume; you ignore the fact that it's your perfume. "Yeah keyword, 'kinda," you rebuttal with causing Chasity to burst into a fit of laughter.

—

Since that late evening with Chasity, you've decided to let your guard down a bit. Entertaining yourself by talking with a few men here and there; though they could never scratch that itch of yours. Again, the dating pool, especially your age range, sucks ass.

The thought of dating another celebrity scared the hell out of you too. You've heard the whispers and rumors on how truly nasty, disgusting, and low-down some celebrities can be. It disturbed your presence deeply, you didn't want that in your life.

But your body had a different response to your feelings. You guess you could say you had a thing for your handsome love interest in your new film, 30. A film in which you and a long-time childhood friend of yours agrees to get married to each other, if both are still single, by the time you two hit the age of thirty-years old.

You like it; a very cliche rom-com. Also, you love rom-coms, especially ones that details black love. You love being the representation you could never find when you were younger.

With a fine ass love interest like Aaron, you feel yourself falling head over heels for that man. Oh how sweet he was when you two first met to do the chemistry test. Analise, the director, gushed over how well you two mesh. It's as if you can read Aaron's mind and Aaron can read yours; that's how well you two work together. The production crew loved seeing you two interact. Some would say that Aaron is your work-husband; your face would turn red and you'd immediately end the conversation there.

But those people were correct. Everytime you came on set, the first thing you did was find Aaron and spend time with him inside his or yours trailer. You two wouldn't even be going over the script, just sitting there basking in each other's warmth. There would be times where you'd bring your vinyls and record player, sitting on the floor letting Aaron soak up all the music you enjoy listening to.

"You love Beyoncé I see." Aaron comments as he watches you sing along to the song being played. Bday was your second favorite album from Beyoncé, self-titled being your first. It was something about Bey’s music that made you feel welcomed and safe.

Sighing, you give Aaron a soft smile before scooting closer to him, "Of course, she's gotten me through so much. You wouldn't understand."

It's quiet for a few beats, letting the song Flaws and All come to an end.

Aaron lifts his hand running it through a few strands of your loose curls, you decided to finally touch up your hair after days of leaving it up in a ponytail. "Maybe I wouldn't understand, but I'd like to try."

You turn your head towards Aaron, you're staring at him but not into his eyes. You could never hold eye contact with Aaron or anybody really; you'd get nervous really face and turn away with a blush masked on your face.

"One day, I'll tell you everything." You mumble quietly. Aaron gives you a soft smile and leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, "I'll be waiting."

You’d never tell Aaron but you hold a piece of that day in your heart. He gives the most gentle hugs you've ever received along with the most sweet, loving, and encouraging words you heard every day on set from him. Aaron has been an amazing co-star and now best friend to you. You might even say, he’s changed your opinion on dating inside the industry.

You pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind for later. Now, it's about 11am and you're getting prepared for the day. A few interviews and a run through of how the world premiere of 30 will go. You and Aaron are supposed to give a small speech before the invited guests get to watch the film you, Aaron, and so many others worked hard on for the last few months.

—

"You look stunning," John, a makeup artist, says once you stepped inside of the small party room that's being held behind the curtains.

Out the corner of your eye, you see Aaron staring at you but you can't read his facial expression. Ignoring it, you turn your attention back towards John. "Thanks boo, you know I had to look good for tonight."

John and a few others around him hype you up as you give them a twirl in your dress along with a hair flip. Laughing and waving them off, you head your way over towards the direction of the movie, Analise.

"Analise!" You greet her with a soft smile and open warms, receiving the same affection in return. "You look so gorgeous, everyone here is giving you googly eyes, even Mr. Pierre."

Your cheeks heat up at the comment from Analise. Trying to regain composure, you smile and let your hands fall to your side, "Aaron? Oh, I doubt he's giving me googly eyes."

Analise eyebrows raises, tilting her head before turning her shoulder to stare at Aaron and looking back at you, "You really think Aaron doesn't have a crush on you?"

"We're just co-stars, I doubt he sees me in that way." You say before flickering your eyes over at Aaron. It's never crossed your mind that Aaron has some sort of feelings for you. You always took Aaron as the type of actor who is committed to his work and has a strict policy of keeping work and personal affairs separate.

"Please, every time we were on set, he looked at you like you're the only woman to ever grace this earth."

Analise stares at you for a moment before placing a hand on your shoulder, "Now, I'm not saying you have to get with him or anything. But I and others notice the way you two interact, it's refreshing. I enjoyed coming to set knowing my two lead actors enjoy working with one another."

You didn't necessarily know how to react; but a weird sense of warmth comes over you at Analise's confession. You give her a soft smile, "Thank you."

–

"So, how does it feel to have worked with the finest man in Hollywood right now?" Your friend, Chasity, asks you as you two sit at the bar and watch everyone else dance at the after party.

You grin a bit before fixing your face, "You have such a crush on that man Chas. But he's an amazing person to work with; I enjoyed every second I spent with him on set."

Chasity smirks, "Me? Crush on Aaron? I believe those honors belong to you, my love. That childish grin you just gave me told me all I needed to know."

"It's nothing more, look, Aaron is a sweet co-star and we're just friends. He's dedicated to his career just like I am with mines. That's it, that's all." You say and sip on your Margarita.

Chasity hums and stares out into the sea of people dancing, "Well your "friend" is on his way over here, right now."

Your eyes widened and you immediately sit down your drink before you have the chance to spit it out. You turn your head to see that Chasity was indeed correct, Aaron was on his way over to where you and Chasity are currently sitting.

Chasity looks over at you, "Girl you look good, stop stressing," she mumbles and turns to give Aaron a soft smile.

"Hello Chasity." Aaron greets your best friend with a generous side hug and turns his attention towards you, "Hello lovely."

"H-hey Aaron." You say with a soft spoken voice. Out the corner of your way you can see the smirk on Chasity's face; you'd have to get at her about that later.

"I'm so honored to have work with you and I've decided my thank you to you, I'm gifting you this," Aaron pulls the huge white and black Chanel bag from his bag and you gasp.

"Aaron! Oh my God, I love this. I wish you told me you were gifting me, I would've went and bought you something special too." You say as you get up and wrap your arms around his neck.

Aaron chuckles and slips an arm around your waist, the warmth that comes over your body feels amazing as you two hug for a bit while longer before parting.

You slowly take the purse from out his hands and Aaron wants to take his phone out to snap a picture of your reaction.

"Please, you don't need to, I already have something special." Aaron looks you in the eye at the last part causing you to blush and look away from him.

You become increasingly nervous and stare at the beautiful Chanel purse that's in your hands, "Well, it's a beautiful gift, thank you Aaron."

Aaron raises his hand to lift your chin softly, "What'd you say, beautiful?"

Your words for a second get stuck in your mouth, “I… it’s a beautiful gift, thank you Aaron.”

It’s as if Aaron got a kick out of you stumbling over your words, his smirk grows and he pulls back from you. “Anytime, beautiful.”

You and Aaron both hear his name being called; he gives you one more look, “Duty calls.”

You watch him walk away and Chasity hits your arm softly, “Girl! You’re practically drooling over him.”

Suddenly that brings you back to reality, “Drooling? Chas stop it. I was doing perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well when you and him end up all over Twitter tomorrow with people over analyzing you all’s reaction don’t say I didn’t tell you so,” Chasity says before turning to the bartender and asking for another drink.

Slowly, you sit back down on the barstool, reading over the words Chanel on your new purse. “Chas, do you really think Aaron has feelings for me?”

She turns her head over at you, “Clear as day boo, the signs are there. I can’t convince you, you have to convince yourself.”

Humming in response, you turn your attention towards Aaron’s way, watching him laugh and interact with a few friends from college.

Aaron doesn’t have crush on you, right?

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[vi1223]

"Have you got everything you need?"

"Yes, Alfred...."

"Good."

Bruce walked towards the front door and was about to leave when he thought of something. He looked back into the house.

"Alfred?"

Alfred turned around in confusion.

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Would you.... Would you like to go with me this time?"

Alfred was shell-shocked.

"Are you.... Are you sure, Master Bruce?"

Bruce smiled and nodded.

"Yes, it's.... it's what my father would have wanted."

Alfred smiled.

"I'll go pack my things."

----

3 years later

Bruce sat at the dining table reading his newspaper when Alfred approached him."

"I noticed you haven't packed for the annual camping trip, Master Bruce. You haven't forgotten, have u?"

Alfred said as he set Bruce’s coffee on the table. Dick stops midway through his breakfast.

"What camping trip?"

Dick asked in confusion.

"No, Alfred, I haven't forgotten. I've just been too busy. And with Dick around, I think we should just skip it this year."

Bruce answered Alfred, ignoring Dick's confused glances.

"Why Master Bruce, you haven't missed a day, I don't think you should start now?"

Dick was getting increasingly annoyed, understandable as a 6-year-old.

"Missed what? What's going on?"

Bruce sighed.

"I'm busy. Besides, I can't exactly leave Dick alone in the manor. And before you suggest staying behind, you know I'm not letting you do that."

"Actually, I was going to suggest you bring the boy along this year."

Alfred nodded towards an excited Dick Grayson.

Before Bruce could protest, Dick jumped out of his seat in excitement.

"Yeah, camping trip!"

Dick exclaimed as he began jumping up and down.

Bruce frowned.

"I don't know...."

"It would be a good bonding experience for you and young master Richard."

Bruce looked thoughtful and sighed.

"Alright."

----

"Are you sure you don't want to come, Alfred?"

"No no, I have far too many chores to do. You boys enjoy yourselves."

Dick was excited. It was his first time going on a trip with Bruce since moving into the mansion. Bruce was so busy with work, they seldom had time to hang out and it often made Dick wonder why Bruce fostered him in the first place.

"So what exactly are we doing again?"

Dick asked, as they headed out.

Bruce sighed.

"When I was little, my dad would take me to hiking in the forest just north of the manor. We would camp the night and watch the sunrise in the morning."

Dick grinned.

"Sounds cool. I've never been camping before."

Bruce smiled fondly at the boy.

"When my parents died, I invited Alfred along with me. And it kind of became a tradition for me and Alfred."

Dick nodded. Bruce had told him a little about his parents' death, but he knew it was still a touchy subject.

"My dad promised to take me camping once."

Dick piped up.

Bruce looked at him with interest.

"But Haley's circus was always moving. We never even had a chance to visit the woods."

Bruce listened with interest. He patted the boy on his head. Alfred was right, this would be good for him and the boy.

Bruce suddenly stopped abruptly. Dick frowned in confusion.

"Why did we stop?"

But Bruce did not answer. Instead, he picked a pebble from the gravel floor. Dick looked on with interest.

"Choose a nice stone. You're gonna need it later."

Dick nodded and grabbed a pebble that caught his eye.

They continued on their hike and finally found a nice clearing. 

"We're here. This is the campsite."

"Yes!"

Dick placed down his things. Bruce did the same, then took the pebble from his pocket and walked over to a corner where a pile of stones were gathered.

Dick followed him curiously.

Bruce took it a marker and handed it to him.

"Write your initials and place down the stone."

He placed down his own rock on a little pile of rocks labeled 'B.W.'

"Each time we come here, we place a rock until we make a little rock mountain. This is mine."

Then he pointed to a smaller stack beside his own labeled 'A.P.'

"This is Alfred's."

Then he gestured to the largest stack labeled 'T.W.'

"And this is my dad's."

Dick did as he was told and admired the other rock structures.

"Whoa. That's tall. Your dad must've come here often."

Bruce smiled.

"He used to come here all the time with his dad. N now I come here with you."

Dick registered the information, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"Thanks, Bruce."

"Anytime, son."

----

"Come on, Cass. You should come with us this year! It'll be fun!"

Duke persuaded.

Cass shook her head, stubbornly.

It was the annual camping trip. Bruce and the boys were all packed and ready to go. It was extra exciting, as it was Duke’s first trip with the family.

Steph placed an arm around Cass.

"Yeah, you're never going to convince her to come to your little 'Boy's trip'."

Dick chuckled.

"They're right, you know. We all tried."

Babs walked in.

"Plus, with the boys out of the house. Alfred lets us throw a little girls' night."

Duke looked at them, impressed.

"How'd you make Alfred agree to that?"

Steph shrugged.

"As long as we clean up after ourselves and keep the guest list to a minimum, Alfred sometimes even joins us for mani-pedis"

Dick grinned.

"Fair enough. Come on, let's make sure Tim isn't over-packing. Again."

Duke looked concerned.

"Again?"

Jason nodded.

"Yeah, last year he tried to bring 10 packs of instant coffee. Alfred caught him just in time."

Duke laughed at that. At the corner of his eye, he noticed Damian arguing with Bruce on bringing his pets along on the trip.

----

Duke felt a little silly carrying a pebble in his pocket, but the rest just gave him mysterious grins and said he'd find out later.

Finally, they reached a clearing. Duke began unpacking his things when he noticed the others gathered in a corner.

"What are you guys... doing?"

That's when he noticed the little rock structures with each of their initials. The boys grinned as they added a new rock to their structures.

Duke was still watching in amazement when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Bruce smiling at him and handing him a marker.

"It's your turn, son."

Duke smiled and took the marker. He wrote 'D.T.' on his pebble and set it beside Damian's.

"Hey, Bruce! Your pile is almost high as your dad's!"

Jason commented, ruining the perfect moment.

-----

Note: I wrote this a while ago. It was inspired by something, I think it's a comic page. If anybody knows, please help. Thx.

[foli-vora]

run to you: chapter eight

marcus pike x f!reader

A/N: it's here. Finally. Don't look at me. Can't believe we only have 4 chapters to go after this one! I have such a deep fond love for this little universe and I'm so damn thankful for all of your comments, reblogs and asks! Your kind words make my bloody year! Hope you enjoy angels x

Summary: Following on from ‘Traitor’ and ‘You’re Somebody Else’. An unexpected visitor throws you right back into the life you thought you left behind. Working beside the man that put you behind bars is one thing, pretending like you never loved him is another.

Word count: 4.7k-ish

Warnings: angsttttt, swearing, general heartache and bittersweet goodbyes, a break in, these two make me want to listen to a heartbreak playlist all day and just cry

main masterlist | series masterlist

This story will have explicit sexual scenes in the future so 18+ only.

The words play in your mind as you make a beeline to the public bathrooms, a relentless cycle over and over and over. Your conversation with the consultant had been mind achingly frustrating, and yet, despite knowing his little tricks and various mental hoops he gets his chosen victims to jump through, you can’t help it—you give in.

You find yourself jumping through those damn hoops, letting his words drive you borderline insane.

Jane has it all wrong—so wrong—so why can’t you stop thinking about what he said? What would give him the impression that Marcus has feelings for you? Feelings that extend beyond the expected responsibility of a leading agent, and mere guilt lingering from their shared history.

Does he see something you can’t? Has he heard something? Found something?

The bitter tang of resentment builds in the back of your throat as your mind goes down more paths, creating more questions with no answers in sight. This is what he wants.

Jane wants you to be overwhelmed with questions and what ifs and a desperation for the truth, so you’ll go to him for the answers. So he can spin words, play and pick your brain some more. It’s a cycle, one that obviously works well for him. This is how he plays, and it’s vicious and cruel, and—

—and yet you still let his words confuse you, still mull over them in your head.

You keep fucking falling for it. 

Your hands shake as they deposit your bag beside the sink, the cold water splashing over your skin doing nothing to divert your thoughts or distract you.

Of course there are no feelings anywhere.

Maybe this is just a ploy to hurt or embarrass Marcus—surely there’d be some bad energy there, given the history between them both. Maybe Jane’s not finding enough entertainment within the investigation and is instead making his own.

You don’t know. What you do know is that you refuse to waste one more fucking second wondering what is going on in that man’s head, and what his ploy is.

It hits you as you stare back at your reflection in the mirror, the obvious internal war written across your face with creases of stress and watery eyes—you can’t do this. You’re not cut out for this rollercoaster of drama. You’ve had enough. 

Jane, the case, Marcus, the FBI—you’ve had enough of all of it. You’ve done enough, and Marcus has always said to tell him when you decide you’re done. He’s always said that you’re under no obligation to do anything you don’t want to do, that you could back out at any point. Or maybe that was just another lie.

The bitter part of you churns to life, still angry, still holding onto the aching resentment from the past. Vicious thoughts and memories tainted by heartbreak flood your mind, but it doesn’t seem to cut as deep as it usually would. He didn’t lie about that. 

He said you were in control, he gave you his word—and you took it. You trust it.

Would he be disappointed?

You did tell him that you’d help, that you’d do what the FBI asked of you and get them the information they need, but at what cost? Your mental health was already taking hits, an array of emotions continuously assaulting you from merely being around Marcus again, let alone being bombarded and interrogated by some wanna-be mentalist freak from California.

No. He’d understand.

You dry up, blotting the paper towel across your throat and willing your heart to slow down as you look over your frame in the reflection. The wire’s still perfectly hidden, tucked deeply away under your jacket from where Marcus had pinned it, but the mere thought of it sitting there has a cold dread creeping along your veins.

That whole conversation with Jane had been recorded.

Marcus is going to listen to it. His team is going to listen to it. You can’t deal with the fallout of that. You can’t be humiliated like that. What would he do? What would he say?

Though of course you know the truth and that the idea of Marcus having any type of romantic inclination towards you is fucking ridiculous, you’re still not exactly fond of the idea of sitting there and listening to him explain why he does not, and would not, ever have feelings for you.

Maybe—maybe you could get ahead of it.

Surely if you just tell him, ask him, that the recording be discarded as you’re backing out. There’s nothing on there, there’s no need for it. Just delete it, forget about it and move on. 

You grab your things and leave the safety of the bathroom, clutching your bag like a lifeline as you begin to make your way towards the exit, but then you see him. He’s a good distance away from the path you’re taking, and you wouldn’t have noticed him at all if you weren’t suddenly highly aware of every person milling about the building.

Edward Thomas.

Someone who had played a big part in your life before everything went to shit. He’d been involved with some of your replicas, their creations and the deals around them once they were complete. You weren’t aware of his exact place in all of it, but you know damn well it was much higher on the food chain than you.

He looks the same, despite everything. Did nothing happen to him when it all fell apart? Was he not arrested along with everyone else?

Probably not. He had money—serious money. He had connections. He had the network you had ensured to keep out of. Perhaps you would’ve been better following his footsteps, kissing asses and sucking up to the underground elites of the world, making more of a name for yourself behind closed doors. You would've been untouchable, invincible. 

Where would you be now? Back in your penthouse, mostly unscathed and living life as normal.

There’s no use dwelling on it. It’s a can of worms you could continue to open and close for the rest of your life, wondering what if until it drove you mad.

Doing what Edward Thomas did, does—it’s not you. It wasn’t you back then, and it wouldn’t be you now. You just wanted to paint, you weren’t in it for the money. Although, admittedly, it did help.

You want to move towards him, to hover in the background beyond the group of smartly dressed people surrounding him, enough for him to see you, to peak his interest. This could be what Marcus, the FBI, needs. This could, potentially, help the investigation, if he is still doing dealings under the table. 

But then what? You’d be stuck having to go further. There’d be no backing out. There’d be more drama, more headaches, more mind games, more lies. You can’t do it.

This has developed into something you don’t think you have the nerve for. The idea of it all seemed so easy when Marcus came to you, but the reality of it? You don’t have the mentality for it all. You’re not an agent. You’re not trained for this. You don’t have people behind you, covering for you and protecting you.

You turn away.

Rigsby lingers by the bathroom you had exited from, nose in a pamphlet showcasing the must sees of the museum, but his eyes flick to you as if to check on your movements. You swallow, give a barely there shake of your head and then continue on your way out, leaving him to alert Marcus that you had left.

—

You’re only a mere few feet away, but he can feel the distance that now stretches in between you. Distance that could never be removed or forgotten. The thick sheen of glass hides him from your gaze, but that doesn’t stop him from flinching when your eyes glance at the mirror upon entry.

He’s a coward. A fucking coward. He intentionally sat out on the move today, refused to be a part of the team bringing you in, all because he was scared of seeing your face and the look of betrayal in your eyes. Shit, he’s still scared now. Maybe that;s why he stays behind the glass, refusing to be a part of the interrogation.

You’re holding on so fucking strong, he’s damn near proud.

Jenner throws everything at you. He does all that he can, but when you don’t budge, he throws an apologetic glance towards the mirror that you thankfully don’t catch. It’s time to pull out the ace card, to let you know they had more on you than you think, and it makes him fucking sick.

He can’t move.

You’re confused when you hear the mention of his name, his real name, and why wouldn’t you be? You have no idea who he is, who he really is.

Sweat slicks his palm as he pulls at the door to the interrogation room, builds on the back of his neck under the crisp collar of his shirt as he takes a seat. He can’t look at you. He can’t look at you because he’s a piece of shit coward, unable to confront all the shit he’s done.

Bile stings at his throat.

It takes every fucking bit of him to keep it together.

The file is heavy in his hand as he slides it across the table before he finally manages to meet your gaze. It cuts him to the very core. He feels the hit of it deep in his chest. His jaw starts to ache from the pressure of keeping his teeth clenched tightly together, forcefully swallowing down every flicker of pain and guilt and self fucking loathing until he’s nothing but a blank slate.

Tears start to build rapidly in your eyes and he knows then and there that he’ll never forget that look of pure and utter heartbreak creasing your face. The face he had stroked so softly, kissed so lovingly.

“Special Agent Pike,” you rasp softly, almost choking on the words.

It’s a viciously harsh blow to the system and he falters almost immediately.

I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry—

You don’t look at him anymore, and he’s almost glad for it. You’d see how he starts to crumble, how his tongue darts out to wet his lips in a panic and how Jenner makes a small gesture for him to take a deep breath and cool it before he says something that’ll end him in deep shit.

“I want a lawyer.”

—

“I can’t—I can’t do this anymore. Any of it.”

He seems to be expecting the words, taking them in with nothing but a small reassuring smile and a simple, “Okay.”

Honestly, you were expecting a little more. Maybe a few questions fired as to why you couldn’t do it when you seemed so intent on following through with it all originally, but when he says nothing else, you deflate. You wet your lips, wondering if there’s some sort of catch, but Marcus remains silent, watching the flutter of emotions pass over your face.

“That’s it?”

“When I told you that you’re in control of this, I meant it. If you’re done, then you’re done.”

Hearing him confirm it brings such a sweet relief to your mind, you can practically feel the weight of it all start to seep from your shoulders, but despite that guilt still sits in the pit of your stomach, uncomfortable and relentless. It falls from your mouth before you can even think to stop it—

“I’m sorry. I thought—I don’t know. I guess I just thought it would feel different, or be easier than it actually is. I think I’m just… tired. Of everything. I want—”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” he cuts in quietly, giving a small reassuring smile when you glance at him. “We asked a lot of you, and I understand that. It’s okay—really.”

Your conversation with Jane plays back through your mind, almost tauntingly. A small part of you wants to tell Marcus about it, he should know Jane’s off parading about on his own path without a care for the plans or rules or whatever it is that gets set in place during an investigation, but then what?

He’d want to know what he said, and you don’t have it in you to look him in the eyes and tell him. You don’t want to open yourself up to that embarrassment. Of course what Jane said is all bullshit, it’s ridiculous to even think about yourself, but to have Marcus bluntly tell you so would be a bit of a slap across the face.

“The recording,” you start with the creepings of hesitation, tongue rolling along your lips in an effort to bring the words out smoother, “what happens to it?”

 A flutter of a frown creases his brows as he eyes you from across your kitchen before he gives a noncommittal shrug, finding no harm in your curiosity.

“It gets put in with the rest of the evidence.”

“Even if there’s nothing on it?”

“It would need to be cleared by an agent first, but if there’s nothing of use on it then it just gets discarded.”

“If—if I asked you to delete it now, without listening to it, is that… would you?”

The frown immediately deepens.

He seems to stand straighter, something seeping into his expression as your question lingers in the air, and you watch, waiting for the suspicion that doesn’t seem to come. He just seems concerned, whether on your behalf or his investigation you don’t know. He doesn’t seem to know that Jane had jumped on you at the museum, surely that would’ve been something he would address immediately upon seeing you after the last time,  so you’re positive he’s unaware of what’s on it.

“I—” he stops, tongue running along his lips, “I can’t risk the case—”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you. There’s nothing worthwhile on it, but if I wanted you to forget about it and delete it, would you?”

Would you trust me?

It goes unspoken, but it lingers behind your words. Despite the anxiety churning in your stomach and the panic building in your chest from how he’ll take your request and what he’ll think of it, you’re curious. He has no reason to trust you whatsoever, especially given your history, but some sort of shaky foundation had been built between you over your time working with him—how far did it go?

His concern grows, and he takes a careful step towards you. “Has something happened?”

Should you tell him? No. Just be done with it all.

“Just answer the question.”

“What happened?”

“Marcus.”

The frown remains steady between his brows, his eyes unwavering as they focus on yours and study your features, but eventually, after a few moments of searching your expression, he gives a small careful nod. You can’t help but recoil slightly in surprise, not expecting the answer. You don’t even know what you were expecting.

Your first response is to call him out, because surely he wouldn’t, but as you watch him and the way he starts to shift almost nervously, you start to believe him.

“You would?” You question softly, brows pulling together. “Why?”

“Because you asked me to.”

That’s it? That’s all it would take?

He swallows, eyes falling to the floor as his hands find his hips. “Are—are you asking me to?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you tell me why?”

“No.”

It’s not an answer he wants, but he seems to accept it. His frown stays on you, his eyes bouncing back and forth between your own as he attempts to work out whatever you may be thinking. You see the conflict play across his face, the urge to push for more answers, the want to understand.

Something seems to click behind his eyes and you don’t know what to brace for in the seconds that follow. Anger? Accusations? 

He strides towards the kitchen counter, takes the little device in hand and holds a small button along the side until it gives a small beep followed by a clear confirmation of ‘recording deleted’. It’s over and done with within the span of thirty seconds and you’re left reeling.

Holy shit. He did it. You stare, wide eyed as he tosses it back down and runs a hand over his mouth, before turning and pacing the small width of your apartment. 

You watch him go.

There was nothing on it other than your little spat with Jane, but he didn’t know that. You could be hiding anything. You could’ve turned on him, evaded Rigsby’s watchful eye, found someone in your old circle and told them everything you and the FBI have been doing. Anything could’ve been on it, and yet he listened to you.

He trusted you.

“You could’ve just deleted evidence,” you breathe, still stuck in disbelief.

He knows it wasn’t. He fully believes you would never ask that of him, but at that very moment, he couldn’t have cared less if it was evidence. He would’ve dealt with it, like before. Technology isn’t always reliable, and issues almost always arise during cases with something tech-related. No one would know. No one would need to know.

“Yes,” he states plainly, and you’re so perplexed by the word and how he seemingly shrugs off his actions that you need to take another moment to process it.

“Just like that.”

He finally stops pacing, turning to face you fully.

“Just like that,” he echoes quietly.

This was a bad idea.

Not just the erasure of potential evidence and his apparent nonchalance regarding it and the risk to the position he had gruellingly earned over the years, but the whole thing.

The whole fucking thing.

He should never have bought you into this. He should never have knocked on your door. He’s right back to where he was back then, stuck and doing some very questionable shit he would easily lose his job over all because he’s an idiot.

You don’t hide away from his gaze, and he doesn’t shy away from yours. You’re still trying to work out his thought process, the logic behind his actions, and you keep coming up with nothing. There’s no reason why he would do something like this, for a nobody like you. There’s no motivation, no need on his side to do as you ask and blindly delete shit without questioning it further…  unless—

Unless, what Jane said holds some merit.

Why else would he do it?

No.

Maybe he’s just doing it as a favour, to try and make up for all of the shit he put you through. That makes more sense than him having feelings for you. He hasn’t been around you enough to justify any sort of feelings—he doesn’t know you. Or is he carrying them from your previous relationship? But it’s been ages since you were together, and that was all fake back then. There was nothing real there, it was all a lie. 

The headache is coming back.

You exhale slowly through your lips, eyes falling away from him and to the simple black device once more. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You don’t need to know any more. It’s all done. It’s over, and you can finally get back to your quiet little normal life. You can move on.

“Thank you.” And you mean it.

“Thank you,” he murmurs quietly, clearing his throat. “I know this must’ve been very hard for you, and we appreciate all of the hard work you’ve put into this investigation. I appreciate it.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” you half smile, the pull of it natural.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he huffs softly in amusement, slowly coming closer to pick up the device from the counter and tuck it away into his pocket. 

“I mean, I wasn’t thrilled to begin with, but… it turned out okay.”

He smiles fully, and it hits just like it used to. You don’t look away. There’s no harm in taking it all in one last time. You won’t see him after this. You didn’t know last time, before it all fell apart. You didn’t get a chance to enjoy all of the little things you liked. You didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

“Well, I’ll—I’ll leave you to it. Thank you again. There might be some final paperwork, but I’ll post it out.”

You nod as you follow him slowly to your door, tucking your cardigan around you and crossing your arms tightly across your chest. You ache. Somewhere deep inside your chest twists, and your throat starts to tighten. You’re not exactly sure what you’re thinking when you call out to him before he can reach for the door, and you’re left with nothing to say when he pauses and turns to you.

There’s nothing to say. He doesn’t bother filling the silence. You stand there, eyes roaming his face in an effort to picture him as he was back then, when he was Alex. He lets you. There’s something there, something hanging in the stillness surrounding you both because you can feel it start to tug and twist at your insides.

Finality.

This is goodbye—a proper one.

It’s not Marcus you want to say goodbye to.

Slowly, deliberately, you step into him and he doesn’t move a muscle. He stills under the hand you steady yourself with on his arm, breath all but hardening in his lungs when your face nears his own.

Your lips press ever so softly to his cheek, only mere millimetres from the corner of his lips, and the shaky little exhale he lets out confirms it all for you.

Jane was right, but you have no idea just how much. He was in deeper than you could have possibly ever imagined. Everything was still there, simmering right under the surface and threatening to be his entire undoing. He doesn’t speak, can’t speak, for fear of saying the wrong thing and fucking this last little moment up.

He relishes in it, in the one final tender touch of your lips that sends his pulse to a heavy hammer beneath his skin. It kills him, destroys him, but he takes it willingly with an open heart. The final punishment to close the last chapter of your story.

His eyes are closed when you pull away, but they soon flutter open to meet yours, and they swim with all the apologies and guilt he doesn’t let himself say anymore. You’re thankful for it, you don’t want to hear it. Not now. Your lips tingle, and a warmth spreads along the skin of your cheeks. 

“Bye Scribbles,” he rumbles finally, and you swear there’s a slight shine of tears in his eyes.

They mirror the ones suddenly building in yours.

Goodbye Alex.

“Goodbye Marcus,” you return softly, and then he’s gone.

—

He wants to tell you to run.

The words sit on his tongue: a beg for forgiveness, a plea to just get on the first plane out of the fucking country and disappear, and he damn near draws blood to stop himself.

Though he tidied up as much as he could, ensured there were appropriate plea deals in place and a chance for you to get out of this better than the others if you cooperated, he still dreaded the next few days.

You have no idea.

No idea that your world’s essentially going to shatter and come down around you, and it’s all his fault.

Your kisses feel like a punishment. Each one threatens to cut through his restraint, and when you whisper those three sweet words in his ear he wants to vomit.

He wants to tell you everything. He wants to explain that this fake persona you had given yourself to so fully was still him—it was all him, just under a different name. 

He doesn’t.

He lets the guilt eat away at him, lets the heartache practically tear him apart from the inside out until he feels raw. There’d be no salvaging this. There’d be no walking away from this with you still on his side, and rightly so. This will fucking break you, and he’ll carry that for the rest of his life.

He sits up long after you fall asleep, studying each dip and curve of your face and committing it all to memory. He traces over your skin, attempts to smile when you sleepily wake from his touch and hides the presence of his tears by scooping you into his arms for the last time. 

—

It’s surprisingly easy to return to life as it was before he knocked on your door. A weight had been lifted free from your shoulders, a promise of new beginnings born from finally gaining closure. Was it what you expected? No, but it was no less welcome. 

You managed to get your old job back at the diner, and spent days sketching aimlessly in the park.

It was normal, until it suddenly wasn’t.

The door’s pried open when you return from a late night shift, the obvious signs of a forced entry with the wooden edges of the door chipped and the frame split from pressure. Your hand shakes as you push it open, stomach turning as it gives way to the utter chaos that is your little apartment. Your home.

Your things are everywhere, drawers are opened and the contents spilled out onto the floor, furniture upturned and tossed carelessly to the side. Someone had been looking for something, but you know you have nothing of worth. Not anymore. They wouldn’t have walked away with anything of significance but still, there’s a bitter sting of loss, of intrusion that seems to rattle you to the core.

Heart beating heavily in your throat, you carefully step over the mess and further into your small apartment, and beyond the thunder of your pulse you hear nothing else out of the ordinary. Whoever had been here was long gone, leaving nothing but destruction and questions in their wake. Who the hell did this?

He’s the first and only person that comes to the forefront of your mind, and when you shakily reach for your phone and find his name still saved in your small list of contacts, he answers after the second ring despite it being so late. You almost feel guilty for bothering him, but something about the way he seems so immediately concerned placates any doubt.

“Hi, I—I’m sorry, I don’t… someone broke into my apartment—”

There’s a sudden flurry of movement on his end that crackles down the phone. 

“Get out of there,” Marcus demands, before you can even finish working out the right words to say.

He doesn’t tell you to call the cops, he doesn’t tell you it’s not his problem and that you’re on your own now. You feel a slight wave of relief, but facing the disaster of your apartment has a wave of vulnerability hitting you and your eyes start to burn. 

“There’s no one here,” you mumble around the sudden dryness of your throat, “they’re gone. Can you—”

“I’m on my way. Listen to me, I need you out of there, do you understand? Do not touch anything, leave everything as it is.”

You nod, despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see it, and step back out into the quiet corridor of your floor.

There’s no one around.

Your skin prickles with worry, your nerves working into overdrive to stay vigilant. Every quiet shuffle and bump beyond the walls of neighbouring apartments rattles your senses, and the hand holding your phone starts to shake. He must sense your panic, hear the way your breathing starts to pick up as your chest starts to tighten.

“It’s okay, I’m coming. Stay on the phone with me.”

“Okay,” you exhale as a tear tracks down your cheek, leaving a cool trail in its wake.

Maybe this is an overreaction. Maybe it’s just some random burglary, someone out to get a quick bit of cash for whatever they need, or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s not all over as you had hoped. Has someone found you? Do they know who you are? Do they know what you did?

You feel sick.

Your voice catches in your throat, “Marcus—”

“I know. I’m coming.”

[low-budget-korra]

The lies Arcane Fandom likes to believe

Okay, I've seen a lot of awful takes in other social medias but now they are getting here too and I just can't. So I will talk abt the truth a lot of the fandom chose to ignore. And I'm saying "the truth" because different from a lot of ppl, I've actually watched the show and paid attention to the scenes.

1. Jinx is the only one who has been traumatized

Half of the worst takes about characters like Vi or Caitlyn, wouldn't exist if ppl realize that Jinx WASN'T the only one who got traumatized. Vi spent 7y getting beat up in prison, without eating properly and confined in a dirt cell. And no, she is not the one to blame for the person Jinx became. Jinx has to be held accountable for that, just as much as Silco for feeding her paranoias and manipulating her for years.

2. Caitlyn was a evil character and manipulated Vi

Season 1 Caitlyn shows nothing but empathy and patience, y'all like to say Jinx was a revolutionary but s1 Caitlyn was a revolutionary. "Oh but she was rich, she can't be" oh my sweet summer child...

Anyways, she wanted to end Silco cartel - that was destroying Zaun. She even managed to get a council meeting to talk about this. She wanted to change things and she was acting towards this.

Then she got kidnapped naked, tortured for hours, didn't take the shot that would have saved her mother's life, her mother was murdered, the memorial ceremony was attacked and yet she REFUSED to follow the council's ideas to use full force and invade Zaun. Which led us to

2.1 Caitlyn used the grey against innocents

She DIDN'T. She said it herself that the plan was to capture Silco's goons and destroy the slimmer factories. And we see that in the Hellfire sequence.

So stop spreading that she was using the grey against innocents bc the people she used against it were Chembaroons who provoked a civil war on Zaun for power, and used children labor in its factories. They are far from innocents.

2.2 Caitlyn manipulates Vi

I don't even know where this fake news came from bc I've already watched Arcane 3 times, watch at least 4 reaction channels and a few analysis on yt and no one apart from some of y'all in fandom sees this. Jinx manipulates Vi way more than Caitlyn, for example, she is the one that makes Vi believe that her becoming Jinx is her fault.

3. Viktor and Jayce did nothing wrong

Jayce basically built a Chernobyl above Zaun just bc if Hextech goes bad, people from Zaun would be the ones suffering the consequences and not Piltover.

Y'all like to call Caitlyn a genocide (even tho we didn't see any kill directly from hr actions), when Viktor is literally the one willing to kill people in the thousands just because he believes it's the best call. "I want to evolve all those willing to" excuse me? Sir, what "evolve" even means in this scenario? Bc those "evolved" ppl became nothing more than marionettes with no control over their actions and completely brainwashed.

4. Caitlyn was a dictator, she knew everything that was happening on Zaun and did nothing

Caitlyn was actually a pawn in Ambessa chess, a face to Ambessa actions, a face to take the blame for. Noxus could not just simply invade Piltover and install an Martial Law without the support of a major house like house Kiramman.

Essentially what Ambessa did was promote Caitlyn, and hide behind her status. Because if any other Piltie house questions, she could be like "but I'm just here to support the Kirammans, I'm just doing what Im told"

We see in episode 4 that the Noxians are the ones dealing with Zaun's turf wars. Do y'all actually believe their reports on what's happening was legit? Of course not. Caitlyn made her decisions based on those false reports that she didn't even give two fucks about bc she was still too focused on tracking Jinx. That's why when she started to really see what was going on and questions Ambessa, Ambessa quickly pulls the "mom" card to push Caitlyn back into her web.

Sure, she was still powerful and privileged but she wasn't in full control. And the fact that a lot of the fandom dismisses Ambessa's manipulation shows how good at that she is.

5. Vi choose to have sex instead of helping her suicidal sister

Vi DOESN'T watch Arcane. She doesn't know how bad Jinx was and mind you, last time Jinx was acting weird she blew up things instead of being suicidal. We, the Audience, watch her whole journey and change. Vi only stayed with her for a short period of time and she was in a coma for days. She doesn't know what happened after Isha sacrificed and how much this affected Jinx.

"breaking the cycle" could mean a lot of things and if you listen to her words when Caitlyn arrives, you can see that she clearly thinks Jinx is out there abt to blow something. She is blaming herself for believing in Jinx change of heart and not sad for her being suicidal, this prob actually never crossed Vi's mind.

6. CaitVi was forced

I can't with this ""argument"" CaitVi is the couple that has been built since s1 😭. I take that sometimes they were toxic (like when Cait hit Vi) but to say they were forced...please use it 🧠

7. Silco was a revolutionary and a good father do Jinx

Sure, in the past. There's nothing glorious or revolutionary in running a cartel, having business with corrupted cops and child labor. "But he was getting money to his revolution" my ass. He spent 7y doing nothing but becoming more and more powerful while Zaun became like the Pride Lands when Scar took over. He only gets back to his revolutionary ideas when Jinx stole the Hextech gem.

His beautiful speech doesn't match his horrible actions.

The fact that so many ppl see him as this perfect father figure, is the reason so many ppl so easily fall into abusive relationships. Yes, he took care of her but at the same time, he isolated Jinx from her sister , fed her paranoia and instigated her violence tendencies. And it's so clear bc the moment he was no longer in her life, she started to get better in her mental health.

Anyway to finish this long ass post lmao, I want to say that you are free to dislike and hate who you want and what narrative choice you want. The only thing, that ain't that hard, is be fucking honest abt it. There's no need to create bullshit expectations over your hate, ignoring the CANNON.