#i’m mad but i’m not supposed to be mad

[caterpillarinacave]

Shouldn’t the Mayor of NYC not be making statements like “…[Luigi Mangione] carried out this terroristic act on my city…” where he presents an individual as a guilty despite that individual not having been found guilty in a fair court of law? Because, correct me if I’m wrong, but that feels very much like a statement that does not align with the whole “innocent until proven guilty” thing that is supposed to be “one of the most basic requirements of a fair trial” in the United States of America.

[dollyfiles]

frat!rafe manipulating you into letting him eat you out for the first time

cw: rafe x fem!reader, established relationship, making out, touching, explicit language, manipulation, praise, fingering, oral (f. receiving)

rafe didn't believe in taking things slow. he wasn't built for patience, and every woman he'd ever been with knew it. hookups were fast, rough, and entirely on his terms. women weren't people to him; they were distractions, brief fixes. he used them, got what he needed, and never looked back.

but you were different. every time he thought he had you, his fingers inching closer to finally touch you, you faltered—nervous and uncertain—guiding his hands back to safer ground. why play hard to get? he thought. and tonight was no different—at least, it wasn't supposed to be. but rafe was done taking your shit.

you were sprawled on his bed, your thighs brushing his hips as he kissed you. you tasted sweet, your lips swollen from the way he'd been devouring you for the past hour. rafe’s hands roamed freely over you, slipping under your sundress to grip the soft flesh of your thighs. you trembled, gasping into his mouth when his fingers slid higher.

"God, you're so fucking soft," rafe groaned against your mouth, frustration bubbling. you were so responsive, so willing to let him kiss and touch you—just not in the way he craved. and his patience was wearing out. "rafe," you gasped, voice uncertain as your hands fluttered against his chest.

"what, baby?" he asked, a wicked smirk spreading across his face, his fingers trailing up your thigh, stopping just short of where he wanted to go. "you want me to stop?" you bit your lip, your nervousness being clear. but rafe wasn't about to back off—not when you were so close to giving in, he could feel it.

"you’re so fucking pretty like this," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "squirming under me, all nervous and shy. but I know you want it. you wouldn't let me touch you like this if you didn't." the weeks of waiting, of teasing himself by letting your warm body press against his without taking you, had driven him to the edge of madness. rafe needed to touch you and so he did.

your breath hitched as his hand slid between your legs, his fingers pressing against the damp fabric of your white lace panties. you weren’t sure if you were ready for this but his touch got you dizzy. "you’re already soaked," he smirked, his voice dark and teasing. "so don’t act like you don't want it, baby."

"rafe..." you whimpered, your cheeks burning as you tried to look away. he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Tell me you don't want it," he challenged, his fingers circling your puffy clit through the fabric. "say the word, and I'll stop. otherwise, i’m not letting you off easy tonight."

you didn't say a word. you couldn't. did you want this? maybe he was right. maybe you did want this, even if you were scared. and when your wide eyes met his, he knew he had you. your body betrayed you, hips arching into his touch even as your lips remained pressed shut. "yeah, that's what I thought," he said, his smirk widening.

he pushed the fabric aside, groaning at the sight of your cunt bare and glistening for him. "shit, look at you," he muttered, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. "so fucking wet for me. you’ve been holding out on me, haven't you?"

you whimpered, cheeks burning, and embarrassment mixing with a growing heat as his thick fingers slipped inside your hole, slow and deliberate. you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets as he worked you, curling his fingers just enough to make you squirm.

"does that feel good, baby?" he asked, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "you like it when I fuck you with my fingers?"

you nodded, lips parting as soft moans escaped your lips. it felt good. really fucking good. but there was still a nervous tension in your chest, a fear of giving him so much control over you.

rafe watched his thick digits disappear into your sopping wet hole, your pornographic moans just pushing him further. your cunt looked so pretty taking it all but as good as it felt to have you falling apart with his fingers burried deep inside of you, he wanted to feel you on his tongue more than ever.

he’d never been the type to eat pussy. it wasn't his thing—too messy, too intimate. but looking down at your puffy cunt, so soft and needy, he felt a pull he couldn't resist. he wanted to know what you tasted like, wanted to make you fall apart in a way no one else ever had.

he slowed his movements, pulling his fingers away despite your soft whimpers of protest. "relax," he said, his voice husky. "i’m not done with you yet." before you could respond, he moved down the bed, spreading your legs wider with his arms as he settled between them. "rafe," you said, your voice laced with nervousness. "I don’t kn-"

"Shut up," he cut you off, his eyes dark and hungry as he admired your wet cunt. he didn't wait for your permission this time. his mouth was on you before you could protest, his tongue dragging through your folds slowly, deliberately. you gasped, your back arching off the bed as your hands flew to his hair.

"shit," rafe muttered against your core, he had never tasted something so sweet, gripping your thighs to keep you still while his tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle. "you taste so fucking delicious, baby. i could do this all night."

your protests died on your lips as his tongue lapped at you, your whimpers soon turned to moans. you were addictive—better than he ever could've imagined. every sound you made, every little tremble of your body, fueled him. rafe groaned into you, feeling his cock growing harder with every shudder of your body.

"look at you," he said, pulling back just enough to speak, his voice rough and filthy while his lips and chin were drenched in your arousal. "fucking dripping for me. Your pretty pussy has been waiting for this huh?"

you couldn't answer—your voice was lost in the haze of pleasure he was giving you. but your body told him everything he needed to know. your thighs trembled, your hips bucked, feeling yourself getting close. your soft, broken cries of his name only driving rafe further.

rafe had never thought he'd enjoy this. hell, he'd only done it once before, and he'd hated it. but with you, it was different. you were different. he didn't just want to make you feel good—he wanted to ruin you for anyone else.

“ray, i’m gonna—“ you moaned but got cut off by your own release, your body shuddering while you came undone, crying out his name. rafe smirked against your skin, “that’s my girl.” but even as you tried to catch your breath, he didn't move away, lapping up every single drop of your release, your clit already swollen from overstimulation.

you wiggled, trying to push him away as you couldn’t take it anymore, the pressure too much for your fragile body. rafe just chuckled, "you think I'm done with you?" he asked, his voice dark and filled with promise. "not a fucking chance, baby. i told you—could do this all night."

and he meant every word. for the first time in his life, rafe wasn't just obsessed—he was completely, utterly addicted to your pussy. and he didn’t know if he could ever stop.

tags @rafesbangs @rafesheaven @pintrestgrl @littlelamy @vampteeths @vampteeths @kissyrafe @bambiangels @beausling @figthoughts @filthyrafe @starzify @whinyangel

[hoshifighting]

Ya’know how they say: “Dino never bows”… what if reader makes him… ?? 😋

“dino never bows” until you make him

WARNINGS: reader and chan are each others booty calls, dom!reader x sub!chan, smut, power play, finger sucking, cock/balls squeezing-punishment?, cock riding, oral (f. receiving), hair pulling, degradation, praising, arms pinning, dirty talk, dry hump, jealousy, reader is called by ''noona'', bowing.

“ya! dino never bows!!!!!”

hoshi’s voice pierced through the restaurant, loud enough to make you pause mid-laugh at jeonghan’s joke. you looked over your shoulder, just in time to see chan stomping back to the table, his jaw tight and his hands shoved into his pockets. behind him, a girl you vaguely recognized from campus was walking the opposite direction, her head held high like she’d just won a pageant.

wonwoo raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking between chan and the girl. “what was that about?”

“he just got dumped,” seungkwan snorted, not even trying to lower his voice.

“i didn’t get dumped,” chan snapped, dropping into the seat at the farthest corner of the table. his arms crossed over his chest, and he glared at the drink menu like it would soothe his ego flames.

“then what was that, huh?” jeonghan chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “looked like a classic walk of shame to me.”

“it’s not a walk of shame if i wasn’t even interested in her,” chan shot back, rolling his eyes. but the tips of his ears were burning red, and everyone knew it.

hoshi leaned across the table, eyes wide with fake sympathy. “oh no… our poor dino… bowing to rejection for the first time…”

“i said i didn’t get dumped!” chan’s voice cracked halfway through, and the whole table burst into laughter.

you raised an eyebrow at him, your lips twitching as you fought to keep a straight face. “what’s with the attitude, chan? you mad or something?”

his eyes flicked to you, narrowing slightly. “why would i be mad? can we not do this right now?”

“oh, we’re doing this,” seungkwan said, his grin practically splitting his face in half. “because ‘dino never bows,’ right? except now he’s sulking like a kicked puppy.”

“i’m not sulking,” chan mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands.

“okay, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you teased, turning back to jeonghan. but out of the corner of your eye, you could see chan glaring daggers at you, and it only made your smile grow wider.

the car ride home was tense, to say the least. chan hadn’t said a word since you both left the restaurant, but the way he slumped in the passenger seat, arms crossed and face scrunched up, was louder than any tantrum he could’ve thrown.

“where are we going?” he finally snapped, his tone sharp.

“my place,” you said simply, not even glancing at him.

“your place?!” he sat up straighter, glaring at you. “why the hell are we going to your place? you were supposed to drop me off at home.”

“yeah, well,” you said, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, “plans change.”

“you can’t just—”

“shush,” you interrupted, cutting him off. “you’re being annoying.”

his jaw dropped again, and for a moment, he was too stunned to respond. but the second you parked the car in your driveway, he was back to sulking.

you got out without a word, leaving him to follow you up to the front door like a kicked puppy. when you finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, you turned to him, crossing your arms.

“bow,” you commanded, your voice firm.

chan blinked. “what?”

“you heard me,” you said, tilting your head. “bow.”

“are you serious right now?” he asked, his tone incredulous.

“as serious as you were when you tried to make me jealous earlier,” you shot back, smirking.

his face flushed, and he looked away. “i wasn’t—”

“bow,” you repeated, cutting him off.

“fuck no! i won’t!”

chan’s voice shot up an octave, like a toddler who’d just been told no more screen time. he crossed his arms and planted his feet firmly on your living room floor, his pout so exaggerated you almost expected him to stomp his foot.

you raised an eyebrow, your expression shifting into something that could only be described as menacing. chan froze, his breath hitching as he caught the way your eyes darkened—almost black, like a storm cloud about to burst.

“excuse me?” your tone was mean enough to slice through his little tantrum.

he stammered, backtracking immediately. “i mean—uh, i just—”

your arm shot out faster than he could process, your hand finding its target with exactitude that made his knees buckle. you grabbed a handful of his cock and balls through his jeans, squeezing just enough to send the poor boy to hell.

“oh my god—fuck!” he moaned, his head snapping back as his whole body curled forward, instinctively trying to escape the pressure. but you didn’t let go

“what was that? didn’t quite catch that.”

“i said—” his words were cut off by another involuntary moan, this one louder and more desperate. it was, admittedly, the best sound you’d ever pulled from him. his hands flew to your wrist, not to stop you, but to ground his shit, his fingers trembling as he gripped you.

“thought so,” you murmured, loosening your hold just enough for him to breathe. “dino never bows, huh? looks like dino’s about to fold.”

his eyes snapped up to yours, wide and pleading, his lips parted as he panted. “you—fuck—you’re evil,” he managed, though there was no real bite to his words.

“evil?” you echoed, tilting your head like you were contemplating the idea. “nah, i’m just practical. someone’s gotta keep your cocky ass in check.”

he whined—a genuine, high-pitched whine that made your stomach flip—and you couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

“you’re insane,” he gasped, his knees wobbling as you finally released him. he staggered back, his hands flying to his thighs as he tried to collect himself, but his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes betrayed him.

“insane?” you repeated, crossing your arms. “coming from the guy who just moaned like i handed him the meaning of life?”

“shut up,” he grumbled, his voice shaky. but the way he bit his lip and avoided your gaze told you everything you needed to know.

“say it,” you said, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you.

“say what?”

you grabbed his chin, tilting his head up so he had no choice but to look at you. “say you’re sorry. and say you’ll bow.”

his lips parted, a soft gasp escaping before he quickly clamped his mouth shut. he stared at you for a long moment, his pride and submission warring in his head. but when your thumb brushed against his jaw, his resolve cracked.

“…i’m sorry y/n-nie”

“and?”

he swallowed hard, his cheeks flaming. “and i’ll… bow.”

you tilted your chin higher, arms crossed tight as you stared him down, the very picture of authority. “and you better bow with your waist, not like some punk. i’m your noona, after all.”

chan blinked, his mouth parting slightly like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. then, like the good little brat he was, he dropped his gaze and bowed low, his hands clasped nervously in front of him, hovering over the space between his legs.

“good,” you hummed, circling him like you were inspecting a new recruit. “at least you know how to listen sometimes.”

he stayed bowed, head low, but you could feel the tension radiating off him—his pride battling against the heat creeping up his neck.

“what?” you teased, stopping in front of him. “you gonna cry?”

his head snapped up, eyes blazing. “no!”

you smirked, stepping closer, your fingers brushing under his chin to tilt his head back up. “then what’s with the face, huh? all red and flustered. you look like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”

“you’re so—” he started, but you cut him off, pressing a finger against his lips.

“ah, ah,” you tutted. “no backtalk.”

his eyes widened, the defiance fading intothe face of someone who was growing needy he licked his lips, his tongue just barely brushing against your finger, and you felt the shift—the moment he gave in.

“that’s better,” you said softly, leaning down until your faces were inches apart. “show me what that mouth of yours is really good for.”

his breath hitched, but he nodded, sinking to his knees without another word. his hands found your thighs, steadying himself as he looked up at you, waiting for permission. you let him wait a moment, savoring the sight of him like this—wide-eyed, obedient, and completely at your mercy. then you reached down, tangling your fingers in his hair. “go ahead.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. his hands slid up to your hips as he pressed his face between your legs, no panties���chan doesn't even get surprised anymore—his lips and tongue immediately find you with a desperation that made you sit slightly on his face. you moaned, your fingers tightening in his hair as you rocked against him.

he groaned against you, the vibration making you gasp, mainly because his tongue is rolling inside your little hole, and you knew he was doing it on purpose.

“careful,” you warned, tugging his hair hard enough to make him pull back. his lips were swollen, his eyes glassy, and you could see the smugness lurking beneath the glossy lips.

“what?” he asked, his voice rough. “you’re the one who told me to use my mouth.”

“and you’re the one who’s about to regret getting smart with me,” you shot back, pulling him up by his hair and dragging him to the couch.

you pushed him down, climbing onto his lap and pinning his wrists above his head. “you think you’re so clever, huh?”

“i—fu-u-uck—” he stammered as you rolled your hips against him, the friction pulling a low, desperate sound from his throat.

your hands made quick work of unbuckling his belt, fingers steady despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. you pulled his pants down just enough to let his cock spring free from the navy blue briefs he was wearing, the fabric dampened at the tip where he’d been leaking. his abs flexed involuntarily as the cool air hit him, and you couldn’t help yourself—your hands slid under his shirt, pushing it up to expose his toned chest.

“god, chan,” you murmured, tracing the ridges of his abs with your fingertips. “you’re so fucking hot. like, unfairly hot. it’s distracting, y’know that?”

he froze for a moment, his ears turning bright red. he remembered the first time you’d said something like that—half-drunk at a party, your fingers poking at his stomach while you laughed about how annoying it was that someone could be this good-looking and have abs.

“you like my muscles, noona?” he asked, his voice pulling you back to the present.

you rolled your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “obviously, i do. doesn’t mean i’m gonna let you off the hook for being a little shit earlier.”

you licked your palm, wrapping it around his length and smearing the precum that had already gathered at the tip. his hips bucked slightly into your hand, and you tightened your grip just enough to make him gasp.

“noona,” he whined, his voice already high-pitched and needy.

“shh,” you soothed, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw. “be good for me, baby boy.”

chan nodded, his hands gripping the couch cushions like they were his lifeline as you lined him up with your entrance. you dragged the tip of his cock through your slick folds, teasing him, making him squirm beneath you.

“please,” he begged, his eyes wide and glassy. “please, noona, i’ll be good, i promise.”

you sank down on him slowly, the stretch making you both moan. his hands flew to your hips, but you slapped them away, pinning his wrists to his sides.

“don’t move.”

“yes, noona,” he said, biting his lip to keep from making too much noise.

you started to ride him, your hips rolling in a rhythm that had him whimpering beneath you.

“sorry,” he choked out, his head falling back against the couch. “sorry, noona.”

“say it again,” you demanded, your nails digging into his chest. “say you’re sorry, and that you’ll never pull that shit again.”

“i’m sorry,” he whimpered, his voice cracking. “i’ll never do it again, i swear.”

“good,” you said, leaning down until your lips brushed against his ear. “because if you ever make me jealous like that again, i’ll rip that girl’s throat out with my nails.”

chan’s eyes fluttered open, a small, breathless laugh escaping him despite the situation. “you’re scary, noona.”

“damn right i am,” you replied, nipping at his earlobe. “but don’t forget, i’m yours. i don’t want anyone else—not your hyungs, not anyone. just you, my handsome baby boy.”

his breath hitched at your words, his hips jerking involuntarily as you rode him harder, faster, chasing both of your highs. “ahh noona,” he gasped, his voice desperate and broken. “d-dont say that! i—fuck, i’m so close.”

“hold it,” you commanded, your fingers wrapping around his throat lightly. “don’t you dare cum until i say you can.”

his entire body trembled, his hands fisting the couch cushions as he fought to obey you. you could see the effort it took, his muscles taut, sweat dripping down his temples.

“good boy, cum.” you praised, finally letting yourself fall over the edge. your orgasm crashed over you, your walls clenching around him and pulling him over with you.

“noona,” he cried out, his hips bucking as he spilled inside you, his moans muffled when you pressed your fingers to his lips. he sucked them obediently, his eyes locked on yours as he rode out his high.

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part two]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: wrote and posted this in a car and i’m about to throw up w nausea so tread lightly

word count: 1.6k

masterlist

Azzi doesn’t want to admit it, but Ella is lovely.

When she’d stepped into the bar and met her for the first time, she’d half hoped that she’d be a clingy asshole that she could justify hating. But Ella is beautiful, with curly dark hair and full lips and gold studded ears. And she’s sweet, her voice gentle, and she gushes about how pretty Azzi is. So she can only tack on a pained smile, compliment Ella on her outfit, and hug Paige and tell her she did good.

Now, after seeing Ella so many times, they could almost be called friends. Azzi didn’t have to ask Paige when she’d told her about their history - she could see it in the way Ella had become a little more distant, wary of the two of them together, but she was always sweet as ever. And Azzi couldn’t help but think about how perfect - how perfect for Paige - she was.

Lately she’d fallen in a routine: go to games, congratulate her teammates on their win, and head back to her apartment or hotel room to sulk about her life while they did pressers and celebrated. But now, Azzi is determined to erase all thoughts of her irritatingly hot best friend from her mind. She’s snuggled into her bedsheets, prepared to rewatch Frozen for the twentieth time when she hears a knock on the door. Expecting it to be another Ubereats driver that Paige has been sending more and more frequently, she’s more than a little surprised when she sees the devil herself standing at the door.

“Surprise,” Paige says dryly, holding up a bag of takeout before pushing past Azzi.

“Well, come on in,” Azzi says sarcastically. “Didn’t know you took up a side job.”

“If the only way to contact you is through delivering food, then yeah, I will.“ Paige sets the bag down on a counter a little harder than she needs to. Her hair is freshly wet and down around her shoulders, water still dripping down her hoodie. Her cheeks are rosy from the cold, and although her eyebrows are pinched together in annoyance, the sight of her still makes Azzi shudder with want.

“Tell me how we’re teammates, we live down the hall from each other, I see you at every practice and game, and yet it’s impossible for me to get you to talk to me.” Paige questions, a fiery look in her eyes.

Ignoring the older girl, Azzi starts ruffling through the bag. Paige sighs irritatedly, running a hand through her hair, and Azzi knows the older girl well enough to know that she’s close to her last straw. “What’re you even doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be doing press right now?” Azzi redirects.

Paige yanks her sweater off, causing her shirt to ride up and expose the soft skin of her abs. Azzi swallows and looks away. “They’ll be fine without me.”

“Maybe normally.” Azzi unwraps the foil on a taco. “But you just dropped a 30 piece and I’m pretty sure the reporters are dying to hear from their little star.”

“I couldn’t give less of a fuck about the reporters,” Paige shoots back bitterly.

“What about your girlfriend?”

Paige’s eyes narrow. “What about her?”

“You don’t wanna go and celebrate her? With our team?”

Paige shrugs.

Azzi scoffs. “You’re so full of bullshit.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“You dropped thirty points.”

“Yeah, you mentioned.”

“See, this is the fucking issue.” Azzi throws her hands up, exasperated. “Normally you’d be all up in my ass about it, gloating.”

“You’re mad I’m not an asshole who preens about her performance in front of someone that can’t even play?” Paige scratches her head, and Azzi almost laughs at how comedic the situation is.

“You’re missing the point!” Azzi’s voice rises, and she fights to keep it in control. “You should be out there getting drunk off your ass with our friends and your girlfriend, but you’re over here, trying to take care of me.” Azzi knows Paige loves celebrating after a win, especially after a performance like tonight’s. Her best friend thrives in the company of others. And although there’s a small part of her that softens at the fact that Paige clearly rushed here to be here after one of the best games of her life, the part of her that loves Paige more than anything in the world - the biggest part of her - is angry that the older girl felt the need to come here and join Azzi’s pity party, to act nonchalant about her performance when she deserves to be surrounded by praise.

“You’re mad at me for caring about you? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” When Azzi refuses to even look at her, Paige takes a step closer, reaching for her hand. “Can you just stop being so unselfish for once? Let me help you.”

“I don’t need you, Paige.” The wounded look in her best friend’s eyes makes Azzi correct herself. “I don’t need you to pity me.”

“You took care of me when I was injured last year! How is this any different?”

“God, you just don’t understand.”

Paige rests her hands on the counter. “I can’t do this. Not with you.“ She closes her eyes momentarily, and when she opens them Azzi expects her to storm out of the room. But instead, her eyes soften. “Can we just watch a movie or something? We don’t have to talk.”

Azzi falls silent.

“Do you want me to go? Because if you don’t want me here then I’ll leave.” Paige pauses. “But I want to be here. I want to be with you.”

“Okay,” Azzi relents. Paige bites back a smile, and Azzi rolls her eyes fondly.

Azzi lies down on the couch, curling herself into Paige’s side. The older girl’s hands slip under her shirt, moving across her back in a way that feels heavenly. Her eyes flutter shut, and she’s almost asleep when Paige’s phone rings and she slides out from beneath her, gently covering Azzi with the blanket before shutting herself in the other room.

She can barely make out the words, but she can hear from the softening of Paige’s tone and her giggling that she’s talking to Ella.

When Paige comes out, there’s hesitation before she walks over to Azzi on the couch. She hears the sound of Paige breathing heavily for a few moments before she feels a hand on her jaw, the brush of lips on her temple. “I love you,” she hears Paige murmur, so quiet she can barely catch it, before the door shuts and there’s silence.

••

“Azzi?”

Azzi picks up her cup of coffee. “Oh hey, Ella.”

Ella grins at her, the intensity of her smile a little disarming. “Thought that was you! Fancy running into you here.”

Azzi smiles politely.

“Well, hey, I know this is kind of an awkward time, but I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Ella fidgets with her fingers.

A band of discomfort spreads across Azzi’s chest. “Go for it,” Azzi says hesitantly.

“Well, O know you and Paige have been friends for a while.” Ella blushes. “I just, I can’t help but ask - there’s nothing going on between you two right?”

Azzi is a little relieved when she opens her mouth to speak but Ella raises a hand to cut her off. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve said anyways. “I don’t wanna be that girl. I know how important you are to Paige. But she just talks about you sometimes - or even just looks at you and - and I just can’t help but wonder?”

God. “Ella. You don’t have anything to worry about. Me and Paige are just friends. That’s-” Azzi forced a smile. “That’s all we’ll ever be. Okay?” She doesn’t say that if it were up to me, it’d be different. She doesn’t say that it’s unfair how this girl has Paige already wrapped around her finger when I’ve been in love with Paige since I was 16. But she doesn’t.

Ella nods, clearly relieved. She squeezes Azzi’s arm. Azzi wants to tell her to take it off. “If you don’t mind,” Ella continues. “I have another favor to ask.” She takes a furtive look around before stepping closer. “A little bit of space would be nice,” she says under her breath.

“Space?”

Ella nods. “You know how new relationships can be. They’re kind of rocky. And besides, Paige has been stressed with leading the team and the shit going on with her family.”

“I know that.” Azzi’s voice is cold now. She shifts Ella’s hand off her.

Ella smiles again, and this time it doesn’t seem as sweet. “Paige cares about you. A lot. But it’s taking kind of a mental toll on her, balancing all of these things and you at once.” Her eyes flick to Azzi’s crutches.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying you’re a burden. But I’m saying that Paige is always worrying about if you’ve eaten, how your knee is doing, and all that shit. Maybe giving Paige space would help her be, I don’t know, a little less stressed?”

When Azzi stares at her without a response, Ella steps back with a shrug. “I don’t mean any harm. I’m just looking out for my girlfriend.” Ella stresses the my, and Azzi doesn’t miss the way she eyes her as she says it.

She inhales slowly. “Okay.” And as much as she doesn’t want to believe Ella, how could she not? She sees how happy Paige is when she runs to her after games. Ella, as much as Azzi hates her now, gives Paige the support she needs. And she’s not wrong - this has been the most difficult season for the senior yet, having to lead a team of mostly injured players and underclassmen when no one believes in them. And the way Paige had left yesterday night, not even halfway through the movie….as much as Paige refused to admit it, she didn’t want to be tied down by Azzi. Fuck. Had I been hurting her this entire time?

“So…space?”

“I can do that.”

“Great! Thank you, Azzi. I knew you’d understand.” Ella flashes a smile before looking at the menu. “Do you think Paige prefers matcha or cold brew?”

Paige hates matcha. She thinks it tastes like grass.

“Definitely matcha.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick walking into the batcave, with clenched fists

Dick under his breath: I love my family I love my family I love my family I love my family

Tim and Damian standing awkwardly next to each other

Tim: sooo don’t be mad

Dick: I scheduled this day of 2 and a half years ago, you know what it’s like scheduling a day off 2 and a half years before you take it?? I had raven check auspicious calendar dates??

Damian: couldn’t? You have taken one earlier

Dick pulling an a5, 500 page notebook miraculously out his suit: hmm let’s see why didn’t I think of that? Maybe it’s because I’m booked and busy every day of my life? My Google calendar looks like lights flashing at a rave.

Dick: so you have 25 mins, before I call Kori to pick me up if it takes longer than that call Clark or Jason

Tim: well.. that’s kinda the problem

Dick: 24 mins

Tim: wha- that wasn’t a minute

Dick: give me the cliff notes or i make it 10 mins

Tim very quickly: redhood and Superman have both been mindcontrolled but no one knew about Jason being also brainwashed so Bruce thought he fell off the wagon and is torturing Superman and is going after Jason right now and he won’t answer any communications from us and has barricaded us inside the house if you come in you can’t leave and we really don’t know what to do here because Bruce probably won’t believe us

Damian: also Alfred is on vacation and you’re the only one allowed to cook in his kitchen so if we are all trapped here I’d rather like to eat something that isn’t one of Timothy’s creations

Tim: okay boiling the pasta in 2 cans of monster was a THOUGHT experiment I didn’t eat it

Damian: I SAW YOU EATINF IT

tim: ONE TIME TO TEST MY THEORY

Damian: WHAT POSSIBLE THEORY COULD YOU BE TESTING

TIM: WHETHER MONSTER ENEGRY COOKS PASTA ARE YOU LISTENING? UOU GOTTA TRY IT FOR QUALITY CONTRO-

Dick: shut up! Both of you. If I get you out of the house and help you taken all of them down, none of you can call me until the world is ending or someone is dying…

Tim: deal

Damian: I suppose

[watarfallar]

Incorrect quotes because I'm rewatching Wild Life

Scar: Hey Grian, check out this funny .GIF I found! Grian: It’s pronounced “jif”. Scar: Huh? Grian: “Dot jif”, like the peanut butter. The creator said so. Scar: That’s dumb, it’s Graphics Interchange Format. Grian: The P in .JPEG stands for “photographic”, but I bet you don’t say “J-pheg”. Scar: “P” on its own isn’t pronounced like “F”, that’s totally different! Grian: It’s exactly the same! Scar: Name one word that starts with “G” pronounced like “J”. Grian: Gentrification. Scar: Shoot, should have thought of that. I was just in San Francisco. Grian: For your logic to be consistent, you’d have to say “skuh-bah” (scuba) or “lah-seer” (laser)! Scar: Yeah? Well, you’d have to say “J-pej”! Scar: …Wait, “laser” is an acronym? Grian: Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Scar: Huh. Didn’t know that. Scar: You’re still wrong, though. Grian: You just hate me because I’m right. Scar: I just hate you in general. Grian: You mean in “geh-neral”? Scar: Ugh, I’m “joing” to kill you!

Grian: Someone’s trying to break in. Call the cops! Scar: loads shotgun I got this. Grian: Last week you fell up the stairs, what do you mean-

Scar: Okay, Grian, you were right! I was… Less right!

Scar: Grian, wake up! Grian, half asleep: Five more minutes… Scar: You’ve been in a coma for two years! Grian: … Grian: Okay, two more minutes…

Grian: Shut it Scar, I only shook your hand because I had to. We will NEVER be friends. Scar: Lets survive this together! Grian: I HOPE YOU DIE.

Scar: What’s your biggest fear? Grian: I am incredibly arachnophobic. Scar, under their breath: You don’t want spiders to get married?

Grian: chokes on something Scar: Jeez, Grian, don't die on us. Grian: Don't tell me what to do, I'll die whenever the hell I want!

Grian and Scar are texting Grian: Who are you? Someone changed the names in my phone. Scar: What did they change my name to? Grian: Chosen One. Scar: Don’t change it back. Grian: BUT WHO ARE YOU?!?! Scar: I’m the chosen one.

Scar: Are you mad? Grian: No. Scar: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

Grian: Alright, listen up you little shits. Grian: Not you Scar. You’re an angel and we’re thrilled you’re here.

Scar: According to the footage here, you shook the vending machine and when the shake alarm went off, you punched the glass and broke it. Grian: …I was hungry.

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

Grian: Do you want this handful of moss? Scar: Why would I want a handful of fucking moss? Grian: Damn, you could’ve just said no.

Scar: Your problem is that you’ve got no common sense. Grian: I’ve got plenty of common sense! Grian: I just choose to ignore it.

Scar: I’m serious! They’re watching me! They’ve even got an agent following me! Don’t you believe me? Grian: Look, it’s not that I don’t believe you… It’s that I don’t believe you and I don’t care.

Scar: Grian keeps forgetting which WiFi network they're supposed to use. Scar: So I renamed ours to "Grian, use this one" to help them out a little.

Grian: Please, Scar, after everything we’ve been through together. You can’t do this. Grian: I’m sorry Scar. Grian: I’m begging you. Don’t do it. Scar: It has to be done. Grian: Scar: Grian: Scar: Places +4 Uno.

Scar: Does immaturely insulting me make you feel better about your sad single life? Grian: It actually does.

Grian: Amazing! Scar, your just like Sherlock Homeless! Scar: IT'S HOLMES!

Grian: I taught the dog a new trick. throws ball Fetch! Dog: just stands there Scar: He didn’t do it. Grian: I taught him to ignore social conventions and think for himself.

Grian: What the hell is wrong with you? Scar: I have this weird self-esteem issue where I hate myself but still think I’m better than everyone else.

Grian: Do you have a superpower? Scar: Yep! It’s hindsight. Grian: …that’s not going to help us. Scar: Yes, I see that now.

Grian: You’re giving me a sticker? Scar: Not just a sticker. That is a sticker of a kitty saying “me-wow!” Grian: I’m not a preschooler. Scar: Fine, I’ll take it back- Grian: I earned this, back off!

[mitsiepitsie]

Awaiting

Ahhhh, the secret times audio for this card painted such a vivid scene in my mind, that I had to write out the rest of it. Sylus's lines are taken verbatim from the card, the rest is my interpretation. Unproofed as always, here's 1500 words and a bit for your reading pleasure. TW gunshot wound, gunfight.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The darkness around you is oppressive as you glance around, briefly spotting the tiny red lights on the visors of the men surrounding you in the bushes. Five, six, no, more, a dozen strong, at least. You don’t know what faction or organization they’re with and why they’re after you, but you know you need to get out of here, now. 

A quick look at your watch tells you one of his safe houses should be nearby, the abandoned villa where he rescued that kitten that day. A bullet whizzing past your head snaps you to attention, and then you’re running, making a mad dash for the relative safety of the abandoned villa, trying to lose the people following you by darting left and right randomly.

You burst onto a small clearing, cursing as a masked man, completely in black intercepts you with a shit eating grin on his face. You aim your gun at him, but he was waiting for that, and suddenly, pain blooms blindingly in your left shoulder. You recoil from the impact, reeling in pain, and then, he’s standing above you, aiming again. Without thinking, you fling out your right arm and blindly shoot in his general direction, his howl of pain somehow satisfying to your ears as he crumples to the ground in front of you. 

You grit your teeth and force yourself to your feet again, groaning at the lurch in your stomach as you do, but then you’re running again, gaining momentum with each step, though you no longer have it in you to zig a lot of zags. And then, the villa comes into view, and you’re through the gates and crashing into the door, the old lock no match for the impact. 

Still having the sense to close the door behind you, you lean against it and try to calm your erratic breaths. You can hear some shouting in the distance, the voices barely audible over the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. You drag yourself to the end of the hall, facing the door as you sink down onto the floor, trying to inspect your wound and think of a course of action. 

Just as you discover the bullet went straight through, the door flies open, your arm flying up in instinct as you aim for the intruder. 

“You welcome this house’s owner by pointing a gun at his head?” Sylus intones, shaking his silvery head at you incredulously, “Ok then..”

Before you manage to retort, he brings a finger to his lips and quietly shuts the door again and stalks over to where you are sitting on the floor. “Shh, they might still be listening in. Keep it down.” 

You lower your gun and resume your inspection of the wound on your shoulder, muttering wryly that you could’ve used his presence a few minutes earlier. 

“How was I supposed to know you were here?” he mutters as he crouches down beside you, his eyes fixed on the bloody stain on your uniform. 

You let out a mirthless snicker. “It sure didn’t take you long to find me.”

His voice is suddenly in your ear as he closes in on you. “Look up,” he says, gaze not leaving the bullet wound, “To your right. See that black spot? It's a surveillance camera.”

A colorful swear is on your lips as Sylus simply continues. “The system notified me as soon as the door lock was broken.”

He shifts, carefully peeling back the lapel of your jacket. “Does it hurt?” he asks, voice laced with concern.

You try to shrug, forced to wince as you do. “I’m sure you’ve had worse,” you grunt at him as you stand up, trying your damnedest to ignore your wobbly legs as you slide your gun into it’s holster on your leg. 

He grins wryly. “You’re still acting tough, huh?” You try not to be affected by the disapproval underlying his words. 

Sylus grabs your waist, gently supporting you as he guides you into one of the adjoining rooms. “Sit, on the bed,” he directs you. 

It’s all you can do to blow a raspberry in his direction as you sink down on the mattress. You watch as he pulls open a nearby dresser and starts fishing out packets of bandages and other first aid supplies. He walks back over to you, a single eyebrow raised at your antics. 

“Now is not the time for you to be a big girl,” he says sarcastically, lightly sitting down on the bed beside you, “Well…unless you have arms on your back to treat your injury.”

You’re tempted to blow another raspberry right into his smug face, but decide to settle for a roll of your eyes instead. “I’d rather grow a pair of wings, instead,” you say, trying to best his stupid little joke. 

You think you see a flash of surprise flit across his eyes, but it must’ve been a trick of the light, as the next second, he’s right back to commanding you in a tone that brooks no discussion. “Turn around, take off your jacket.”

Begrudgingly, you comply, carefully shrugging off the company issued jacket and turning your back to him. There’s some rustling behind you, and suddenly, a cold substance is spread onto your broken skin. You suck in a breath through your teeth. “What the fuck is that?” you hiss at him, the stinging bringing tears to your eyes. 

“It’s medicine,” he simply answers, “hold on.”

His hand returns, spreading more of the salve onto your shoulder. You suck in another breath, groaning at the intense burning spreading from the wound. 

“Quiet,” he mutters into your right ear as his other hand clamps over your mouth, “I know it hurts, but if I have to keep my hand over your mouth, I won’t be able to treat your wound.”

He releases you again, and you mutter under your breath about not being certain you want this kind of treatment. 

“If you really can bear it, I have some canned meat,” Sylus says, a playful lilt in his tone now, “The slices should be thick enough for you to sink your teeth into.”

You glance back over your right shoulder, frowning at him in blatant disgust. 

He catches your eye, grinning. “It was just a suggestion, you don't need to look at me like that,” he chuckles, “Isn't it better than being spotted because you're too loud?”

He takes a second to look around the both of you, searching for another option. “Do you want to bite down on the gauze pad?” he asks, waving an unopened packet in front of you, “that works too.”

You shake your head, gritting out the retort that you would rather bite on his hand, if anything.  

“Bear with me a moment,” he says, and he leans back as if he needs to collect himself, “Ok. Let’s continue.”

His breath is right in your ear as you feel a dull pricking sensation, and you realise the medicine earlier was some kind of numbing agent, and now he is suturing the bullet hole in your shoulder. Another breath, another prick and pull at your skin. 

“I’m almost done,” Sylus mutters gently, “One last-” He trails off, sitting up straighter on the bed. Footsteps resound on the pavement outside, or, at least you hope they’re still outside. You hear him breathing heavily for a moment as he weighs your options. 

“Where’s your weapon?” he whispers, lips almost touching your ear this time.  

You twitch your right leg in answer. “ It’s on your right leg?”

Before you can bend over to grab it, he halts you by grabbing your wrist. “Don’t move,” he says, “Your wound will open up. I'll get it.”

Sylus releases your wrist and you watch, almost in a trance as his large hand ghosts around you from his position at your back to move over your thigh. Despite the situation, despite yourself, you shiver at his questing fingers, almost disappointed as they make contact with the cold metal strapped to your leg. 

“Load the gun for me,” he breathes, holding the gun up to your face.  

Deftly, you blindly snap the magazine in place. He snickers into your ear, and you shiver again as he quietly stands up from the bed to stand before you.

“We make a good team,” he comments, holding out his hand to you, “Give me your hand.” 

You shake your head, holding out your own hand for him to place the gun back into. He raises an eyebrow at you, staring down his nose at you. 

“Do you want to do it yourself?” he whispers, a pointed look at your wounded shoulder as he weighs your weapon in his hand, “But I have your gun. There’s also no place for you to take cover. Just don't let go, if you want to stay out of the crossfire.” 

He grabs your hand and pulls you to your feet before leading you towards the hallway again, careful to keep you covered behind him. “I’d rather not bandage more wounds in the next few minutes,” Sylus offers over his shoulder with a winning smile, before raining down hell and damnation at the people who dared wound his beloved. 

[shybreadgarden]

Lots of tellings of this story want hades and Persephone together. And if they want hades and Persephone together, then Demeter is a ~problem.~ but I think there’s a much more interesting story to be told about the fact that Demeter and Persephone were together for persephone’s whole life, and then all of a sudden the daughter she loved was gone, kidnapped. So she almost kills the world to get her back. And we’re supposed to dislike her for that? Single mom does everything for her daughter only for powerful men to rip her away —out of a field of flowers where she’s playing. I’m never mad at a story that gives Persephone agency, but I want more stories about how Demeter almost kills the world to thwart powerful men.

The story of Hades and Persephone isn't an abduction romance, or even a tragedy of not being able to be in two places at the same time. It's about how fucking wild it would be to have a mother who gives a shit about whether you're dead or alive, and whether you are happy.

[thoughtfulfiction]

Hike of a Lifetime

Author’s Note: Set in the 2022 offseason after Justin’s labrum surgery in January 2023. Rewriting my first Justin fic is a full circle moment for me so I hope you like this one!

The last two hours of your life had been spent going over orders of Gatorade protein shakes, protein pack quick bites that usually contained some sort of cheese and sausage, various brands of Greek yogurt, apples, bananas, blueberries, granola bars and anything else you could think of to stock the weight room with while you were on vacation. You had been the head nutritionist for the UCLA men's basketball team for the last year, making customized, ever changing meal plans and consulting with the health care staff to enhance your athlete's performance to the best of your ability.

After the team's loss to Gonzaga in the NCAA tournament known as March Madness, you ran to Eugene, Oregon at the first opportunity you had to go see your sister Chloe. March up until this point was one busy day after another, truly living up to the name. Most days you didn't even feel like you got to sit down for more than 10 minutes at a time due to the constant travel and meetings you had to attend. So you took a week off and as soon as you closed your laptop today, you were going to enjoy being one with nature.

Chloe had moved to Eugene two years before you got your LA job, working as a team photographer for the University of Oregon's football team, allowing the two of you to see each other during conference play more often, which had done wonders for your relationship. It's one thing to be siblings but you could genuinely call her a friend now, which was both weird to say aloud, and nice.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Chloe steps into the living room, breaking you out of your vigorous typing. You look up and groan at the guilty look on her face. That was definitely an I have a work emergency and I’m going to be leaving you, look.

"No. You're not canceling on me. I got here two days ago and I have yet to really be outside. How am I supposed to enjoy some of the most beautiful scenery of my life if I'm stuck at the house the whole time? Does spring ball even matter anyway?"

Chloe laughs, heading into the kitchen to grab a snack. You'd recently lectured her about how although cereal is a grain, she can't consider it a food group and she needs to introduce more of a balanced variety in her diet. Unless she enjoys her daily 4pm sugar crash. She surprises you by pulling out a bowl of overnight oats from the fridge, with strawberries on top. After giving her your nod of approval, she gets back to the issue at hand. "Yes, spring ball matters. But I promise you it will not take me that long, I'll be back before you know it."

You huff out a breath, trying to come up with a solution. "What if you have one of your interns do it? Mine are really holding down the fort this week, I'm obviously working from home to help them out a little and I think you should do the same."

"Well our jobs are a little different. I can give them things to edit and post but I don't want to have to approve every single one of their photos and make sure they're featuring the right position groups and players based on a schedule that I created in my head. It'll just be easier if I'm there to walk them through it and then I can come home and we'll have a relaxing week until you have to be back in messy Hollywood."

"It's just Los Angeles, not Hollywood, genius. I still work at a university just like you do," you laugh at her exaggerated version of the place you now call home.

She rolls her eyes, stepping away from her food to grab her keys. "Same difference. It's all polluted air and earthquakes anyway."

Finally finished with your task, you stand up to snatch the keys out of her hand and lead the way to the garage. "Whatever, I'm in clean air now and would really like to be able to experience it. So I'll be dropping you off and getting to my hike."

You get out of the car and the sun immediately hits your skin, not in a way that’s intense but rejuvenating, bringing you back to life. The scent of early spring, mixed in with the sweet smell of freshly bloomed rhododendron sparks a further revival. The air really is different here. Life is more…undisturbed.

Families are getting out of their vehicles without a crushing sense of urgency that you’re used to, people are laughing and enjoying each other’s company and you’ve been to this park before so you feel somewhat comfortable navigating the terrain on your own, opting to quiet the sounds of the world by listening to a podcast during your leisurely stroll. Without even making it a mile on the trail, you spot a friendly black dog making his way over to you, nudging your leg with his wet nose, essentially demanding that you pet him. You usually probably wouldn’t have but the serene energy of the space you’re in brings it out of you.

“Well hello there, buddy. Who do you belong to?” You bent down to search for a name on his collar. “Dylan, that’s a cute name. Should we go find who you came here with before someone has a heart attack?” You laughed softly as the dog happily panted away and let you grab onto the leash. Before you could even take a step, you heard a booming voice calling out the dog’s name.

The distressed figure comes into view and lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much for grabbing him. I’m so sorry if he’s bothering you, I bent down to tie my shoe and this guy decided to make a break for it.”

“He’s taking advantage of the fact that you only have one good arm.” You point out, remembering the shoulder surgery announcement you saw in the LA Times. The man was probably getting used to having both arms again. “No worries, he’s sweet. And super friendly.” You handed him the leash and he thanked you again.

“I seriously owe you, my mom would’ve killed me if I lost our dog when I just got home.” He chuckles nervously. God his laugh was cute. “I’m sorry, I never got your name. I’m Justin.”

“I know.” You smile. “It’s nice to meet you though, I’m y/n. Hope you enjoy the rest of your hike.” You grabbed your AirPods and went to place them back in your ears to finish getting lost in your own little world once again before he stops you.

“Wait—maybe we could finish out the hike…together? You know, just so Dylan doesn’t take advantage of me again.” Maybe he was just being cautious because there was no way he was flirting with you…right?

Those green eyes were going to get you in trouble and you knew it. But you were on a beautiful scenic getaway and hiking with Justin Herbert wasn’t going to come around every single day.

“Let’s do it. Wouldn’t want you to hurt your shoulder even more chasing after Dylan. Bolt nation might collectively collapse if anything happens to you so I’m calling this a public service.”

He unsuccessfully tries to stifle a laugh. “What a Good Samaritan you are.”

Justin was funny. And sweet. And the most fun company you’ve had in a while. You talked about your job, the entire NCAA tournament and what you both thought about being in LA. Even though you both lived very different lives, it was filled with sports and schedules and meetings and practices and there were a lot of things to bond over. Before you knew it you’d been out there for three hours and Rachel texted you to let you know she was done and ready to resume your sisterly activities. He took a look at your deflated expression.

“Do you need to head out?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” You whispered. “This was fun though.”

He readjusts the hat on his head. “Yeah this was great. Um, I meant what I said earlier though. I owe you.” He gestures towards the phone in your hands and you hand it to him watching him type in his number, texting himself immediately so he has yours.

“Maybe we could grab dinner or something before you head back to LA?” He states pensively, holding his breath a bit until you answer.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The two of you head back to the parking lot and you give Dylan one more pat on the head. You look up to meet Justin’s gaze, shy smiles painting both of your faces. He walked you all the way to your car and waved goodbye as you drove away to meet Rachel.

While you waited all you could do was stare at your phone, Justin had given you his number and you had his. He’d put his actual contact information in your phone AND had asked you to go to dinner. None of this felt like real life, what kind of person stumbles upon an NFL quarterback on a normal hike?

“Why are you smiling like that? It scares me.” Chloe interrupts your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized she opened the door and got in the car. “Did that hike change your life or something?” She finished with a dry laugh.

“I’m not sure, but I think it may have…”

Rachel nods her head slowly, desperately hoping to understand what’s going on. “Yeah okay whatever. Let’s get some lunch because I am absolutely starving.”

You put the car in drive, your phone notifying you of a text from its spot on the dashboard car mount. Rachel grabs it and asks, “who the hell is Justin and why is he asking if you’re free tomorrow night?”

“Just some guy I met while hiking, no big deal,” you tried and failed to be nonchalant. She knew you way better than that.

“If it’s really no big deal then tell that to the gigantic smile on your face. You’re going on that date. I’m texting him back to let him know you’ll be free.”

All that Chloe knows is his name. The rest of it you decide to keep to yourself not only to respect his privacy but you want to keep this special thing for you and only you. In case this doesn’t go anywhere, you’ll always have the memory of today and whatever happens on Friday to look back on fondly. And by telling your sister you’re putting a little bit more pressure on it, like this has to become something. You don’t really know this guy yet, only the small tidbits that he shared on the walk and that his family dog’s name is Dylan, who would run away with any stranger if enough treats were offered.

There are so many things going through your mind as you change your outfit for the fourth time tonight. What if he thinks you’re boring? Or he’s boring? What happens if the two of you run out of things to say and you’re just sitting in the restaurant in awkward silence until someone decides to call it a night? Even worse, what if this is the best date you ever go on, you fall for him and then never hear from him again because he’s an NFL quarterback and you sometimes spend three hours a day planning out breakfast options for 18-22 year old basketball players.

You glanced in the mirror, slinging a tiny black purse over your shoulder with a subtle smirk on the way out the door at your final clothing choice. Chloe mentioned that the car outside being a super nice Porsche and you made something up about thinking that he worked in finance or a job closely related to that so she wouldn't keep digging for more information. All she followed up with was "have fun and be safe."

Ambrosia's staff walked you and Justin into the restaurant by the back entrance into a private room, which was the most abnormal part of the night. The rest of the evening was spent consuming seafood stuffed mushrooms, pasta and sharing a classic tiramisu, the best one you'd ever had in your life.

The nerves that once seeped through every pore were quickly replaced with what a vacation was supposed to feel like. Conversation flowed easily, there was no pressure to be perfect or funny or overly sexy. Justin was so…normal. He was pretty, not in a way that was intimidating because you really weren’t sure he realized how attractive he actually is. But pretty in a sense that everything about him made him more attractive. His ability to actively listen to the words you say and bring them back up when it’s relevant. The way his dimples are more pronounced when he laughs. The way he stops mid conversation to say thank you to the service staff every time they refill his water. There wasn’t a bone in his body that wasn’t filled with humility and kindness. Everything he did was gentle. And on top of all of that he paid without hesitation.This date truly had been a breath of fresh air.

“Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun.”

His lips curl into a smile, “this was probably the best first date I’ve had.” He doesn’t know why he’s just admitted that to you, but he’s glad it’s out there now.

“Me too,” you stand up out of your chair after he does, a collection of butterflies appearing in your stomach when he places a hand on the small of your back, before encasing his hand with yours to lead you out of the restaurant.

“When are you heading back to LA?” He asks. You only know that because you’re reading his lips and not listening to a word he’s saying. You really want to kiss him.

You hesitate to lean in, bringing your focus back to his eyes, meeting his soft gaze. “I’ll be here for a couple more days, then it’s back to work. What about you?”

“Tomorrow…” he begins, slowly losing his train of thought when a little bit of the light goes out in your eyes. Should he kiss you before he leaves in the morning or wait until you’re both back in California with busy schedules and no clue if and when you’ll see each other again? “…I don’t want to leave now due to some unforeseen circumstances,” he laughs, “unfortunately I’ve got some stuff to take care of. But I’ll call you and we can maybe do this again?”

“Yeah. Definitely. I’ll see you around.” He gave you a warm hug on the way out and you watched him walk away to his car, smiling to yourself at the thought of a second date. You couldn’t wait for that phone call.

Two weeks later...he still hasn’t called. You would’ve been surprised had you not prepared yourself for this very scenario. Even with all of this so-called “preparation,” the radio silence from him still stung. Who would’ve thought this would happen? The NFL quarterback is busy with his offseason recovery while the girl he went on one singular date with continues to replay minute by minute interactions they had. No one could’ve seen this coming. The thought of that date feels like so long ago and the fact that you can remember it in vivid detail is a feels a little humiliating. You can’t even look at an Apple Watch without your stomach ending up in knots.

You've closed your office door today, taking a few hours to yourself in between meetings. Earlier in the day you and the rest of the staff had to sit through a Tyr presentation, listening to the representatives of the brand try to sell you their endurance sports drink and leaving you with some samples. Then you had CLIF come in with some new energy chew flavor samples for the guys to try. All of the boxes of products now sat in your office and you really hoped to spend the rest of the day going through the food budget, managing receipts and preparing for your first year presentations for when the new freshman arrived sometime in June. You were glancing back and forth between Whole Foods receipts and Amazon orders when your phone rang. Too busy and in the middle of crunching numbers, you ignored the call. Then it started ringing again. You stop what you're doing, assuming that if someone is calling you twice in a row, it must be urgent. The contact name flashing on the screen has you frozen in time.

It was Justin.

Even though you've been alone in your office for a while, you look around to make sure you're not making this up and this is actually happening. He's calling you. Finally.

"Hello? Who is this?" You can hear him shuffling around, probably walking around in a circle aimlessly just like you are. Despite your best efforts to seem unfazed.

"I deserve that," he cringes. "I'm so sorry for not calling you sooner."

"What—what made you call me now?"

He can tell your voice is softer than when you first answered, and he missed hearing it. "Um...life got a little ahead of me and that's not an excuse. I just—didn't want you to think that I wasn't ever going to call," he pauses, "can I make you dinner? Tonight? If you're free. And we can talk in person."

You look at the door with a sigh, contemplating your entire existence. And then you think...fuck it. "Yeah sure, I'm free tonight. Text me your address and I'll be there around 7?"

"Seven works, I'll see you tonight."

His house is perfectly spotless. There is just no way that a single adult man in his 20s is naturally this organized and clean. Even the cat, who he introduces to you as Nova, a gorgeous Bengal walks around like she owns the place, greeting you briefly (sizing you up) before trotting away without a second glance. Justin walks you into the kitchen where he's in the middle of plating the meal. He just looked good doing normal things, filling glasses of water, opening and closing the fridge, taking off his apron. You really needed to get a grip. "It smells great in here chef, what's on the menu?"

He laughs a little, presenting his dish like he's the star of a Food Network show. "Tonight I've made for you a Traeger filet mignon seasoned with the Traeger seasoning and chimichurri sauce with a side of roasted garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus."

You happily clap for his A+ presentation and he gives you a bow. "Justin, this looks amazing! I can't wait to dig in."

The man leads you to the table, setting the plate down in front of you before grabbing a seat right next to you. "So...let me explain."

Taking a bite of your food, you shake your head. "You really don't have to explain yourself, we went on one date. There's nothing to explain I mean—”

"Yeah there is. I want you to know that I wanted to call sooner, I really did. But I came back and had to meet with doctors to make sure my recovery was on track and then the draft happened and then I had to talk about the future of my contract and I didn't want the craziness of my life to overshadow what we have going on. The last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you're being put on the backburner."

Unbeknownst to you, he had also been replaying that date...more often that he'd like to admit. Anytime he had a minute to himself he thought about calling, seeing what you're doing. And then there was a meeting, or a draft party or someone needing him to be somewhere. But you were always on his mind and he was glad to now have life slow down a little bit to show you he really did care.

"I get it. Definitely thought you forgot about me there for a second. A few seconds," you correct yourself. "But I knew you were busy and we're here now so you're forgiven. Especially because this steak is incredible."

"Well thank you," he smiles sheepishly.

He begged you not to help him clean up but you insisted. After everything was put away he gave you a tour of the place and then you sat on the couch looking for a movie to watch until the stack of puzzles on the shelf caught your eye.

"You haven't unwrapped this one. Is it new?" You note the plastic wrap lining the box on the shelf meeting you at eye level. The flowers look familiar but you can't exactly remember where you've seen them before.

“There's a lot of flowers at the park we met. Any rhododendron I see now," he nods at the box in your hand, "makes me think of you. So I bought this. Figured we could do it together.” The way he's looking at you when you turn around makes you feel warm and tingly inside.

Something about being with him is addicting. You feel physically drawn to him, this pull, an invisible hold that he has on your heart that soon makes you want to run for the hills. But you know that the second you’re away from him it’ll feel like an important new part of your life has been ripped away. It almost felt like the universe had sent Justin to you as an apology for all men. Even doing something as simple as a puzzle feels like the most romantic thing in the world. All of the pieces are laid out on the table and you tackle the corners first, working from the outside in. You're sitting so close to each other that your arms are touching, reaching and grabbing at the puzzle pieces in sync like a well oiled machine. He pulls you into his lap toward the end when there's a few pieces left, giving you a high five when all 300 pieces are in their rightful place. Your hand is in his once again, like it belongs there, holding you close and steady.

He lets you go momentarily to cup your face, a look of adoration adorning his that makes your chest clench. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for the last 22 days," Justin whispers, his face so close to yours you can feel his breath on your lips.

"Then why are you still waiting?" You whisper back, barely able to finish your sentence because he's nipping at your bottom lip, teasing you slightly as he runs his thumb across your jaw. You're a puddle in his hands, his lips on yours kissing you with his heart pounding against his chest like he's never kissed anyone before. The kiss is so simple yet the most intense experience either of you have been a part of and you want more. Both of you are fighting for dominance, a somewhat rough dance of tongues and a little bit of teeth increasing in intensity the longer the kiss lasts. You moan into his mouth, feeling him begin to stand at attention underneath you, deepening the kiss by pulling him in even closer by his hair. The other hand is wrapped around his thigh, squeezing his leg and producing goosebumps across his entire body. He had to take a few moments to recover, slightly out of breath at the kiss that he was convinced had just changed his life. "Was that worth the 22 day wait?" You ask with a laugh, holding his head in your hands.

He nods, still incapable of speech, blowing out a breath of relief when the tightness in his pants continues to go down. You lazily make out throughout the entirety of whatever movie he puts on, more than making up for lost time.

You have to be at the facility early for morning workouts so Justin walks you out to your car, pulling you in for one more kiss. "Text me when you get home so I know you made it safe?"

"I will."

Justin lays in bed that night looking at your goodnight text, already planning the third date in his head because he needs to somehow make it better than tonight was. He doesn't have any ideas yet, he just knows he can't get enough of you.

One year later...

You were back in Eugene at your favorite park, ready to get back to your favorite scenery.

"Are you excited?" You ask Dylan, who barks excitedly as you hold onto his leash. That must mean yes.

Justin laughs beside you, grabbing onto your hand. "You ready?" He gives you a kiss on the forehead before the three of you begin your hike.

[pomegranatesarchive]

tempura and charles leclerc

tempura: "i'm sorry, babe, are those flashcards?"

view the menu here!

You had never met anyone's family before.

Sure, you had met your friend's family. But boyfriend's family? No, never.

You have heard all the excuses, "How about we wait a little longer", "They don't like to meet new people." and even, "I only let them meet people I'm serious about." That one hurt.

You thought Charles would be the same. So when you brought up the topic of meeting each other's parents. You had prepared yourself for the inevitable rejection.

Only for him to perk up and grin, "I've been meaning to ask you! Do you want to meet my family first? They've been dying to meet you!"

Wait what?

The surprise was clear on your face, and you quickly sputtered out, "No! I mean-Yeah? Yeah, yeah that's good."

That was a week ago. And you hadn't stopped stressing since.

You didnt know what to do, or how you were supposed to act? Probably posh right, yeah families like posh.

You just had to figure out what posh was.

Two days before the dreaded meeting, you came up with a wonderful solution. Studying.

What do people do when they want to feel prepared? Study.

You quickly ran off to the store and picked up a pack of one hundred flash cards. Then you got to work.

You learned everything you could possibly learn about The Leclerc family. Well, everything you could find online. Which was surprisingly a lot.

It was t-minus thirty minutes until the meeting. You were sitting on the corner of your bed, quickly going over everything you've memorized.

"Arthor's twenty-four.." you mumbled to yourself, "Born in the year 2000, and his birthday is..." you paused, anxiously fidgeting with your fingers. "Shit!" you cursed, reaching under your pillow and pulling out your stack of flashcards. Not noticing Chalres who had just walked into your room.

"October 14!" You shook your head, pulling up the flashcard, "Arthur Leclerc, born October 14, 2000."

You sighed, turning around, jumping at the sight of Charles standing by the doorway, surprise clear on his face. You quickly hid the stack of flashcards behind your back.

Charles walked up to you, his lips pursed, "I'm sorry, babe, are those flashcards?"

You opened and closed your mouth a couple times, before squeaking out, "No?"

Charles mouth slowly turned up into a smile, “I can see you hiding them.”

You eyed him, leaning back and shaking your head, he wrapped his arms around you in lighting speed, forcing the cards of your hands.

He switched through them as you cringed into yourself, this was it, he was going to call you a weirdo and break up with you.

You watched him anxiously, not noticing the small smile on his face, “This is…a-lot.” he managed.

You jumped to your defense, “I’m not a stalker i swear! I just..like to be prepared, and this is all stuff you can find online, so it’s not like I…dug deep.”

Just then you noticed the smile on his face, “Your not mad?” you whispered.

Charles shook his head, throwing the flash cards on your bed, “No not mad. This is really cute.”

“Seriously?” you squeaked.

“Don’t get me wrong…this is weird.” He laughed, “But at least you care right?”

“I do care!” you cut him off, “I really do!”

Charles smiled softly, interlining his fingers with you, “Good. It makes it less creepy.”

You two smiled at each other, before making your way out of the bedroom.

“Can we not tell people about this?” you mumbled offhandedly.

Charles laughed, “No way. This will be in my wedding vows.”

.

[sthilarions]

Charles does get angry at Edwin sometimes. Of course he does. He has a hell of a temper, and Edwin, bless him, as madly as Charles loves him, can admittedly be… difficult. Once in a while.

Charles can’t help being angry, sometimes, but he can make damn sure he never takes that anger out on Edwin, so whenever he gets mad, he leaves. Says “I’ll see you later, Edwin,” and heads out of the office and goes for a run or to beat something up or whatever it is kinda-teenage boys are supposed to do to relieve their emotions.

“I’ll see you later, Edwin,” he says, every time, sometimes through gritted teeth. Well, sometimes it’s “I’ll see you at the meeting,” or “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” but the essence is the same. No matter how hard he has to try to force the words to come out more or less even, he says them. I’ll see you later, Edwin.

Because he figured out very quickly that Edwin thought, every time Charles got mad, this must be the time he’d leave forever.

He’s pretty sure after a few decades Edwin got the idea, realized that Charles really did want to stay, even if Edwin was being difficult, but he still says it - I’ll see you later, Edwin (I’m not leaving you alone, Edwin) - because there might still be that little part of Edwin that will always believe Charles will realize he’s better off leaving someday. And because if he doesn’t say it for the first time, after all these years of repetition, he knows it’ll immediately stand out to Edwin and Edwin will draw his own conclusions.

And no matter how angry he is, he can’t let Edwin think Charles is leaving him, even for a second.

[starzify]

CROSSFIRE - dean winchester

PAIRING dean x fem!reader

WARNINGS angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, romance

MASTERLIST

The warehouse was suffocatingly quiet, save for the occasional drip of water echoing through the darkness. Dean’s fists were clenched tight as he paced back and forth, boots scuffing against the dusty concrete floor. The blood smeared across his jacket wasn’t his—a fact that should have made him feel relieved. But it didn’t.

It was yours.

You were slumped against the wall, holding a bloodied cloth to the gash on your side, your face pale but determined. The vampire was dead, its decapitated body lying a few feet away. You had seen to that, staking it after it had gotten the drop on Dean.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Dean’s voice cut through the silence, low and gravelly, but laced with a fury that made you flinch.

“Nice to see you’re grateful,” you muttered, wincing as you pressed harder on the wound.

“Grateful? Are you kidding me right now?” He spun to face you, his eyes blazing with an anger that barely concealed the fear beneath. “You jumped in front of me, Y/N! Do you have any idea what could’ve happened?”

“Yeah, Dean. I do,” You snapped, glaring up at him. “You could’ve died. I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

Dean ran a hand down his face, the fight draining out of him for a moment before he slammed his fist into the wall. “Damn it, Y/N! don’t get to make that call!”

You stared at him, stunned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means your life isn’t disposable!” he shouted, his voice cracking at the edges. “You think I can just—” He stopped, turning away from you, his shoulders heaving as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

“You think I can lose you and just walk away like it’s nothing?” He finally said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “I can’t. I won’t.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the pain in your side suddenly insignificant compared to the ache in your chest. “Dean…”

He turned back to you, and for a moment, he wasn’t the stoic, tough-as-nails hunter you’d always known. He was raw, vulnerable, his green eyes shining with unshed tears.

“I’m not mad because you saved me,” he admitted, stepping closer. “I’m mad because you don’t seem to get how much you mean to me. If anything happened to you…”

“Dean.” Your voice was softer now, but he didn’t stop.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing out there? Throwing yourself into the line of fire every chance you get? Acting like your life doesn’t matter as much as mine?” His jaw tightened. “Well, newsflash, sweetheart—it does. It matters more than anything.”

The air between you grew heavy, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, unable to meet his eyes.

“No,” Dean said, crouching down in front of you, his hand coming up to rest gently over yours where it pressed against your wound. “Don’t be sorry. Just… don’t do it again. I can’t lose you, Y/N. Not you.”

You swallowed hard, finally looking up to meet his gaze. The intensity there stole your breath, and for the first time, you realized just how deeply his feelings ran.

“I can’t lose you either, Dean,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop, the two of you locked in a silent understanding. Then Dean’s lips quirked up in the faintest of smiles, though his eyes remained serious.

“Well, looks like we’re stuck with each other then,” he said, his tone lighter but still laced with emotion.

“Guess so,” you murmured, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the pain.

But just as he was about to pull back, something in your expression must have given you away—a flicker of vulnerability, of longing you hadn’t meant to show.

Dean froze, his green eyes searching yours as the air grew impossibly still. “Y/N…” he said softly, his voice unsure for the first time.

You didn’t give yourself time to second-guess it. Before you could lose your nerve, you leaned forward, capturing his lips with yours.

It wasn’t tentative or shy. It was desperate, a release of all the emotions you’d both been holding back for far too long. Dean responded instantly, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek, the other still bracing you as if he was terrified you might slip away.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. Dean’s forehead rested against yours, his hand lingering on your face. “You really don’t make this easy, do you?” he whispered, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Since when have we ever done easy?” you replied, your voice shaking but steady enough to make him laugh quietly.

“Touché.” Dean leaned in again, pressing a softer, lingering kiss to your forehead before standing. “Now let’s get you patched up before I have a heart attack.”

His hand stayed on your arm as he helped you to your feet, his touch warm and steady. And as the two of you hobbled out of the warehouse together, you couldn’t help but feel that some wounds were worth bearing if they brought you closer to him.

[lumaconstante]

"First Impressions Matter" DAMIRAE

Summary:

Rachel Roth meets Damian Wayne's family for the first time. Despite Bruce's initial reservations about her lineage and powers, she quickly wins over the chaotic Wayne household—including Damian’s inquisitive younger sister, Alice.

Warnings: Fluffy, Humor, Family Dynamics

Wayne Manor had seen it all: supervillain invasions, hero gatherings, and even extravagant parties orchestrated by Alfred with more efficiency than any Gotham event. But hosting Damian Wayne's girlfriend? That was new territory.

Bruce Wayne stood in the main hall, impeccably dressed, his jaw so tense Alfred could almost hear his teeth grinding. He’d read every possible report about Rachel Roth, and what he found didn’t sit well: daughter of Trigon, demonic powers, Teen Titans member. But what bothered him the most was the way Damian spoke about her, with an unfamiliar mix of admiration and… hope.

“Relax, Master Bruce,” Alfred murmured, adjusting the picture frames on the mantle. “She’s just a young woman. Let’s not frighten her before she even steps inside.”

“I can’t promise that,” Bruce replied dryly.

The sound of an engine outside announced Damian and Rachel’s arrival. Alfred went to open the door, maintaining his characteristic poise, while Bruce strategically positioned himself near the fireplace, like a judge preparing to deliver a verdict.

Damian entered first, exuding his usual confidence. Beside him was Rachel, dressed in a simple black coat and dark pants, her posture calm. Her violet eyes scanned the manor, betraying no nervousness, only curiosity.

“Father,” Damian began without ceremony. “This is Rachel.”

Rachel offered a small polite smile and extended her hand to Bruce.

“Mr. Wayne. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Bruce hesitated, his mind flooding with images of Trigon and the ominous reports. But then he glanced at Damian. His son’s gaze wasn’t defiant, as he expected. It was… expectant, almost vulnerable.

Bruce shook her hand, keeping his expression neutral.

“Welcome to our home, Rachel.”

Before the tension could thicken, Dick Grayson entered from the side door, his grin bright enough to light up Gotham.

“Rachel! Finally!” He crossed the room and hugged her in an exaggerated manner, making Damian roll his eyes.

“Don’t be an idiot, Grayson,” Damian muttered.

“Relax, Dami.” Dick winked at Rachel. “He’s only acting like this because he’s nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Damian retorted, crossing his arms.

Jason Todd appeared next, hands in his pockets and an amused expression on his face.

“So, you’re the famous Raven.” He looked her up and down, making no effort to hide his scrutiny. “Well, you don’t look as scary as Batman’s report said.”

“Todd, I suggest you shut your mouth,” Damian growled.

Rachel, unfazed, raised an eyebrow.

“I prefer to keep the mystery alive,” she said evenly.

Jason chuckled as Tim Drake entered the room, holding a coffee mug. He glanced at Rachel, nodded, and said:

“Welcome. Hope you survive the madness of this house.”

Rachel’s lips curved slightly.

“Thanks. I’ve dealt with worse.”

As the introductions continued, hurried footsteps descending the stairs drew everyone’s attention.

“Dami!” Alice bounded down the staircase, her black hair streaked with blue catching the light as she leaped the last few steps.

“Alice, slow down!” Alfred chided, but she was already in the room.

Alice stopped abruptly when she saw Rachel, blinking in surprise.

“Who’s this?” she asked, her curiosity unmistakable as she looked from Rachel to Damian.

“Rachel,” Damian answered before anyone else could.

“Oh… Rachel.” Alice tilted her head, her eyes sparkling. “Damian’s girlfriend?” She grinned mischievously. “He’s never brought anyone home before, so you must be his girlfriend. Or has my baby brother not mastered social interaction yet?”

“Alice!” Damian snapped, but Rachel chuckled softly.

“I suppose I am,” Rachel admitted calmly.

Alice dashed to her side, ignoring the room’s tension, and fired off questions.

“So, do you like books? What’s your favorite food? What kind of music do you like? Is Damian as grumpy as he seems?”

“Alice.” Bruce’s voice broke in, though it lacked its usual sternness.

“Relax, Dad. I’m just getting to know my future sister-in-law.”

Damian pressed a hand to his face in exasperation.

Rachel, however, seemed unfazed, answering Alice’s rapid-fire questions with patience and even a hint of humor.

When Alice finally paused, she turned to Damian with a teasing smile.

“You know, Dami, she’s pretty great. I don’t know what she sees in you, but I like her.”

Jason burst out laughing, and even Tim smirked.

“Alice,” Damian started, but Rachel placed a hand lightly on his arm.

“I like her too,” Rachel said, smiling warmly at Alice.

Bruce watched the scene unfold, his jaw still tense but his posture easing slightly. Trusting Rachel completely would take time—if it happened at all. But seeing the light in Damian’s eyes and the way Rachel navigated his chaotic family made Bruce wonder if this young woman might be exactly what his son needed.

And for Bruce Wayne, that was a significant step forward.

I want to thank everyone who voted in my poll! Damijon was the winner, but I also really love DamiRae, so since Damirae came in second place, I decided to write this little oneshot. Damirae will not appear in the Star fanfic, Damijon will be one of the couples mentioned in the fanfic, but if you want to read and comment there to support me, I will leave the link below. You can also go to the pinned post on my profile to make any requests you want!

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 5: like the old times

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

content warnings! written part (500+ words)

author's note! very late very short update but i'm swamped with uni and work and group orders </3 failed english syntax, fell from the stairs and i have 5 more exams next week, idk what i'll do (probably play love and deepspace)

previous | masterlist | next

You really wanted to have Heeseung’s legendary Shin Ramyun.

But you couldn’t, in good conscience, leave Kai to fend for himself at a party. Your heart wanted to take you to Jay’s apartment, but your head reasoned that it was better this way. Were you even ready to be around Jay like this? In a setting different than band practice or lectures?

Like a total weirdo, you sat outside of Yeonjun’s house on the porch by yourself. Did that mean you left Kai on his own inside the house though? Not at all. Because realistically, Yeonjun was a good friend of his, and they were close enough for him to have gone alone. But he wanted you with him. 

You should be touched, right? Kai invited you to a party — to go there with him. As his girlfriend. Something Jay had never and would never do with the type of relationship the two of you had. But still, you’d rather be with Jay and his friends right now, and it made you feel terrible toward Kai.

He was trying so hard to make you forget Jay. And you adored him. You cared about him. So much. Yet everything between the two of you felt so… friendly. Kai hadn’t even initiated anything with you yet, and you’d been together long enough, right? More than a month was enough, surely.

You sighed and ran a hand over your face as you stared at your notifications. Jay’s messages to you were displayed on the screen, changing from worry to disappointment. You couldn’t bring yourself to reply to him. The idea of explaining yourself terrified you. Because not telling the truth was much easier than lying. 

A pair of hands sneaked around your waist. You let out a scream as strong arms lifted you up on your feet, and as you were turned around, Kai put a hand over your mouth to silence you, wide-eyed. 

“Please, don’t scream. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said helplessly, taking his hand away once you were calm and not convinced you were being kidnapped. 

“Kai,” you breathed out, burying your head in his chest while trying to slow down your beating heart. He scared the fuck out of you. 

He wrapped his arms around you again, rubbing circles on your back. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to do that. Are you mad at me?”

“No, of course, not.” You shook your head, reciprocating his embrace. “But don’t do that again.”

“I won’t.” He kissed the top of your head. “You’re not having fun, are you?” he asked, and another question was on top of his tongue, but he swallowed it because the last thing he wanted to do was bring up Jay. Though as far as Kai was aware, you always seemed to enjoy parties whenever he was around. 

“I just have a lot on my mind,” you said. “I don’t know—”

“If you want, Taehyun isn’t at the dorm right now,” Kai proposed randomly, and you looked up at him in surprise. “We could go there?”

“You want to go to your dorms? Just the two of us?”

“Unless you don’t want to? I mean, I just thought… since we’re officially boyfriend and girlfriend now…” Kai scratches the back of his head nervously before shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

You smile. “No, actually, I’d love to,” you replied.

permanent tag list: @moonpri @addictedtohobi

nothing i don’t have tag list: @samsayssam @sillydallyz @semisemirin1i82 @mora134340 @bananna-12 @lonelylandofan @fakeuwus @tkooooop @en-chantedtomeetyou

[marvelousels]

THROUGH THE STATIC | PART 2

(part 1 here) n small tags to whoever wanted pt2! @just-levyy @meluksis @zhivaxo

authors note — i guess we're doing a part two? since ppl like my first part and i hope u like this part, part three?? lmkkk xx

pairings: jinx x fem!reader (js freinds for now ig)

ON MY OWN — DARCI playing!

The days had started to blend together after Jinx had appeared in your living room. At first, you were startled, confused, and unsure of what was happening. But soon, you came to realize that chaos was her constant companion, and in some strange way, you had come to expect it. One moment, she’d be curled up on your couch, staring at the TV like she was trying to make sense of the world through someone else’s eyes. The next, she’d be tearing through the house like a storm, her energy manic and unpredictable, her laughter often laced with something darker.

And through it all, you found yourself drawn to her. Her wild, unpredictable nature. Her sorrow and rage buried beneath layers of manic joy. Jinx was never still, never quiet. The hurt was always there, just beneath the surface, like a ticking time bomb.

This evening, you found yourself trying to focus on something—anything—to distract yourself from the madness. But the telltale sounds of destruction started. You didn’t flinch anymore.

You walked into the living room, and there she was, kicking over the bookshelf. Books flew across the room, and her manic laugh echoed through the space. You didn’t even need to ask. You could already feel it—the tension, the darkness.

“Jinx, stop,” you said, voice steady, but there was an edge to it now. She didn’t listen.

“Why?” she snapped, her eyes flicking to you for a split second, wild and frantic. “Books are boring,” she growled. “All these words pretending they mean something. But not me. I’m the real deal. Explosive.” She threw another book across the room, her smile sharp and dangerous.

Something was different tonight. This wasn’t the same chaotic Jinx you’d been getting to know. This Jinx was colder. Angrier. More unstable.

You stepped closer, trying to keep your voice calm. “You don’t have to destroy everything. I’m just trying to help.”

“Help?” Her laugh came again, but it was darker, more deranged. “Help me? You think you can help me?” She turned to face you, her eyes narrowing, her fists clenched at her sides. “None of them could. Not Vi. Not Caitlyn. They never understood. They never wanted to. Vi—Vi was supposed to be there for me.” Her voice cracked, anger and hurt mixing together in a volatile mix. “But she left me. She picked Piltover. She picked that bitch Caitlyn. And I—” Her words came out in a rush, tinged with grief and fury. “I’m just the freak, right?”

Her eyes flashed, her face contorted in disgust. She was pacing now, the tension in the room growing thicker with every word.

“Caitlyn,” she spat, the name like acid on her tongue. “She wants me dead. She’s never going to stop trying to kill me, you know? After everything—I caused that explosion. Killed her mother. And now, Caitlyn wants to make me pay. She wants me in a cage. Or worse...” Jinx’s voice dropped to a low growl. “But I’m not going back to that hell. I’m not going back to their stupid rules.”

You stood there, trying to process what she’d said, her words hitting you like blows. Caitlyn had always been after Jinx, but you’d never heard her express just how deep that hatred ran. She was a target, hunted, cornered by everyone who thought they could fix her. And Vi... Jinx’s sister, the one person who should have stood by her, was now part of that world. Caitlyn’s world. Jinx’s eyes flashed with bitterness at the thought of Vi.

"Vi was supposed to protect me!" she shouted, fists clenched so tight her knuckles went white. "But no. She left me. She chose them. And now she's in Caitlyn's bed. Pretending everything's fine. Pretending I'm just some monster."

You felt a pang in your chest, seeing the hurt in her eyes. She wasn’t just angry. She was broken. She was lost.

Her breathing grew faster, more erratic. "And Caitlyn," she hissed. "Caitlyn... she’s just waiting for me to slip up. She’s just waiting for me to fuck up again. I’m a danger to everyone. I know that. But they don't get it. They never did. Vi never did. They think I’m the monster... But they—" She cut herself off, shaking her head as if the thought alone hurt too much.

You tried to get closer, trying to make sense of the chaos swirling around her. “Jinx...”

“No!” She spun to face you, her eyes wide and frenzied. “Don’t even! Don’t you dare try to fix me. I’m not broken! You hear me? I’m just... different. And they didn’t like that.” She was shaking, her entire body tight with repressed emotion. "You think I’m some fragile little thing, don’t you? That you can ‘help’ me? That you can fix this?” She let out a bitter laugh. “No one can fix me. Not Vi. Not Caitlyn. Not you.”

She was right there—just a breath away, her raw pain nearly suffocating. But instead of the usual chaos, there was something more desperate in her voice now. Her face was twisted, like she couldn’t decide whether to cry or scream. She pulled herself together quickly, though, masking it with that dangerous grin. But it was hollow, jagged, like a broken mirror.

"I don't need them. I don't need anyone," she muttered, falling back onto the couch with a huff. "I'm free, right? Free to do whatever I want. Fuck them." She looked back at the TV, her gaze lingering on the reflection of her own wild face on the screen. “At least I get to choose my own way now.”

You watched her for a moment, torn between wanting to reach out and give her the comfort she so clearly needed... and knowing that doing so might push her away completely. But you couldn’t ignore it. You couldn’t ignore her suffering.

“You don’t have to be alone in this, Jinx,” you said softly. “You don’t have to push everyone away.”

Jinx looked at you, her eyes narrowing for a moment, like she was trying to decide whether or not to let you in. But all she said was, “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, huh?”

Her grin returned, but it was colder. “There’s no fixing me, remember? If you try, bang goes your nice little life.”

Her words hung in the air like a bomb, the tension thick enough to slice through. But for a brief moment, her wild eyes softened. Just a little. “But maybe...” she trailed off, flicking a glance at you. “Maybe you’re not the worst person I’ve met.”

She looked away again, as if she’d just said something she shouldn’t have. You could feel the weight of her words, knowing that, deep down, she still wanted someone. Anyone. But she didn’t know how to ask for it.

She kicked her feet up on the coffee table and grabbed a bag of chips, shoving them into her mouth like she was trying to drown out the thoughts she couldn’t face.

“Whatever,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the chips. “It’s not like I want your help, but... you’re here. So, i'll deal with you ugh,”

You nodded quietly, though you knew better than to expect anything from her. For Jinx, trust was a slow burn, and you were just a stranger in her chaotic mind.

But maybe—just maybe—you were starting to understand the storm inside her.

[anastasiaskarsgard]

I need part 3 nEOWWWW

When your friends don’t know best - part 3

Warning- cursing, nudity, violence etc 18+

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? I had no idea…” you said as you practically ran up to Annie, looking her over.

"it could be worse," Annie said with a shrug as she sipped her champagne. "I mean he could be ugly."

You stared at your best friend like she’d completely lost her mind. “How can you be nonchalant about this? You're the one in danger if I misbehave for fucks sake!" You seethed at her. She was currently clad in a bikini laying out by the pool, like you were on vacation at a resort and not being held against your will.

“where do you think he goes all day anyways?" Annie signaled one of the bodyguards for more champagne and went over to the edge of the pool, dipping her feet in. "However he pays for all of this, is likely time consuming. He is insanely wealthy which comes with a lot of responsibility. Personally I think it's kind of romantic in like a dark way."

"you're insane." You bit out. You were having a hard time not hurting your friend yourself! Why was she on his side? “Why are you taking his side? Do you think I should actually take him seriously after what he,”

“Listen princess,” she cut you off once again,”I know this isn’t what you wanna hear, but you’re gonna have to accept it. If anyone comes looking for us, and if they actually find us, what are they going to do? I hate to break it to you, but this guy has the title and the type of money that laws don’t apply to them. Even if the police listen to our loved ones, the Marquis has an army. They’ll get themselves killed. If we escape, where will we go that he won’t find us? How will we get our papers and book flights to leave without him finding us? If anyone is insane, it’s you! So like I said, at least he’s not ugly.”

You knew she was right but you couldn’t admit it yet. You’d never felt so helpless and trapped in your life. You could feel the tears coming on, but before you’d let anyone see them, you spun on your heel and marched into the house. A few steps behind you were you're faithful guards, always staying close. Only giving you privacy in the bathroom, where they'd wait outside the door. You decided you'd take a bath and think.

You made your way through the massive estate, blind to the priceless antiques and art around you. At first you’d been impressed with his vast collection of priceless artifacts, until you’d realized he’d collected them all, just like you. Now whenever you looked at a famous painting or ancient vase, you imagined your face inserted into the scene. You imagined the Marquis in the background just out of sight, pulling the strings. It made you mad enough to spit.

Coming to the room that you'd been given, you informed your guards that you'd be bathing and they didn't say anything as usual. They just stood to each side of your bathroom door, staring straight ahead like you didn't exist. The first few days you’d been here, you’d begged them to help you escape, but they just ignored you.

You supposed they weren’t terrible since you didn’t think they’d told on you, but they didn’t help you at all either. You’d asked a maid to help you, and she’d told the Marquis. He’d told you this, by hooking Annie up to electrodes and shocking her until she’d thrown up all over herself.

That had shut you up until today, when you finally got to see Annie again, only for her to be on his side. You suppose you’d likely say the same to her, if the roles were reversed. She was practically a whipping boy and if you felt helpless, she must feel even worse. You needed to apologize after you had some time to gather your thoughts alone.

Making your way in the bathroom, you turned the water on and threw a bath bomb in the water. Undressing and taking your hair down, you stepped into the purple tinted water and tried to clear your mind so you could face your best friend and that man.

You gazed out the window at the setting sun and wondered if it was dinner time. You contemplated what you would wear, and what you could say to make Annie feel safer. It was your fault she was here.

So lost in the warmth of the water, and your thoughts, you didn't notice someone had entered the bathroom.

"it must be my birthday." The Marquis said in a low husky tone.

You're eyes shot open so fast that you wouldn't have been surprised if they had popped out of your skull. You sat up quickly, causing a large rush of water to spill out of the bath across the floor. You tried to cover yourself as much as possible, but when you locked eyes with the Marquis all your panic seemed to melt away.

"you're ok. You can trust me my love." He stated as he made his way to the side of the tub.

You couldn't explain it, but you believed him, and even though something in the back of your mind screamed danger, the longer you stared into his eyes, the less you felt like he was anything but safe.

You lowered your arms to reveal your chest and his eyes lit up in interest. You tried to think why he'd be interested in your chest but got nothing. You couldn't think and you couldn't look away, but you knew that something about that wasn't right. Your father had always said you were the most stubborn child alive, when you thought you were right, and you knew that was true.

A look of determination crossed your face and the Marquis couldn't help but chuckle. You could see the devotion and admiration in his eyes and it was flattering. This beautiful, wealthy powerful man wanted you, and you couldn't think of why that was a bad thing. Not with him right there.

Wait a minute. What were you thinking such nice things about him for? You forced your eyes away from his and stared down into the water at your toes.

Your toenail polish looked terrible. It was all chipped and your nails needed a trim. You also needed to shave your legs and underarms, but had not bothered keeping up with your appearance since you didn’t want him to like you.

You snapped your head to the side, remembering he was in the bathroom with you and wondered how you could possibly forget his presence like that.

Your eyes widened at the sight of a very naked man climbing into the large bath with you. When had he taken his clothes off? You closed your eyes, and searched the last few minutes and could only see his handsome face. When you opened them again and found he was only inches away from you, you didn’t handle it well.

You screamed.

You began to fight him but neither of you could find purchase in the slippery soapy water, so you both just tumbled around. You attempted to stand but fell on top of him twice, and realized he was laughing.

You tried to hold yourself off of him, but slipped again and he was no help since he was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. Finally becoming irritated you snapped, "what is so damn funny?"

He took another few seconds to calm before pulling you on his lap and snuggling up to you affectionately. "In all my years on this earth, no woman has been so silly as you. I have always been successful with women, so I suppose I find the futility of it all, very amusing." He smiled into your skin before kissing you on the forehead. "I've had more fun with you this last week, than I've had the past 100 years."

"why do you say shit like that? You're not old, nobody is that old." You snapped. You were getting really sick of his strange comments.

He smiled a huge toothy smile and you noticed he had fangs. Rolling your eyes, you reached out and poked his fang, only for it to cut your finger. "Jesus! Did they file those down sharp enough?" You shouted, putting your finger in your mouth. You’d heard of people having their teeth filed down to resemble predators, but you didn’t think someone of his status would participate in such a trend.

You glared at him only to be met with yellow eyes, with slit pupils like a snake. Your breath caught in your throat as your mind tried to find a logical explanation for green human eyes, to shift to yellow snake eyes but you were coming up with nothing. You could feel your fight or flight mode kicking in, but you just stared at him wide eyed and frozen.

"Do you see mon Cherie?" He whispered.

You shook your head that you did not, and he closed his eyes and chuckled. When he opened them again they were their usual green again. You wondered if you’d hit your head when you had been trying to get away from him, and then contemplated if he wasn’t somehow slipping drugs into your food.

You looked down so you didn't get trapped in his stare again and looked up again quickly. You weren't sure how you forgot you were both nude, but now you'd seen his dick and it was hard. Should that even matter at this point? He had fucking snake eyes for fucks sake, and you're scared of a dick?

"tell me what you are thinking." He purred.

You tensed at the sound of his voice. Frantically running through different responses, you finally settled on one “What are you?"

The silence was palpable. As the seconds, turned into minutes, you finally turned to look him in his eyes and ask again, only more firm, "tell me what you are Vincent."

You were worried you’d forget yourself again if you stared into his eyes too long, so you made to get up and put some space between you two. His arms reached up and pulled you close to him. You knew you couldn’t overpower him, so you allowed yourself to go limp and huffed out a long sigh.

He sighed too, and just as you began to try and get up again, he spoke into your ear. "I am a vampire. I have lived 400 years, but only 8 of them are worth mentioning. Those blissful years I spent in the company of my soulmate Arielle, whose soul now lives within you.”

Your mind came screeching to a halt as you searched for something to say. All you could come up with was “how?” You weren’t sure what you even wanted to know but were relieved when he began speaking again.

“Arielle wished to be a mother, and only those born vampire, are able to produce offspring. Since she was born human, she wanted to have children before she would allow me to turn her.” You pulled your face back to look into His face. “She was killed when she was 8 months pregnant with our daughter. She was burned alive by her own brother. She had told her family the truth about me, even though I advised her not to.”

“What did you do?” You asked in spite of the fact you were sure it was a terrible fate that fell on Arielles’ family.

“I destroyed them of course. Not only them, but every person that saw her burn and did not stop it. Every villager, servant and beggar that did not even question why such a perfectly pure soul, was destroyed, and I am not sorry.” He looked you in the eyes, “I’d do it again.”

And you knew without a doubt, that he was telling you the truth. You knew he was capable of destroying an entire village in his rage, and you thanked god, that he thought you looked like Arielle. “So I look just like your wife?”

“No you have many differences in appearance. Same color hair, but her eyes were a soft brown and she was not so tall. She was not so lean as you are either. She was beautiful as you are, just in a more common way.” He explained.

Your brows knitted in confusion. “Then why do you think I have her soul?”

“Because I can recognize it.”

“ my soul?” You asked again.

“Souls are very ancient living things. They are unpredictable. I can’t begin to tell you exactly how it works. Some you never see more than once, while others bounce from life to life without a pause between. I do not know why or how they choose to live, but I can recognize them, just like you can recognize your friends and family. When you are a vampire, there are additional senses you acquire over time.” He explained.

“So you have powers?” You asked.

“Maybe,” he smirked.

His eyes darkened and he’d never looked so attractive as he did now. He bit his plump lip and slowly brought his face closer to yours. “May I kiss you?”

“Only if you promise, not to bite me.”

His brow shot up incredulously, and he wrapped his big hands around your waist and sensually spoke into your ear, “I promise.”

You nodded, and before you could blink you were out of the tub and in the bedroom, in the Marquis strong arms.

The Marquis laid you on the bed gently and then got on his knees between your legs. “What are you doing?” You asked nervously, as he pushed your legs apart so he could fit between them comfortably.

“I’m giving you a kiss.” He smirked up at you, before leaning forward and taking your sex in his mouth, and devouring you like a man starved.

Clutching the sheets so hard that the corners came loose, you couldn’t help but to fall apart. Never had anyone made you feel this way, and you wondered if this was possibly one of his powers. While you wouldn’t call yourself a slut, you’d had your fair share of lovers over the years, but none came close to what he was doing. Maybe it was the hundreds of years he’d been alive. How many pussies had he eaten?

Your climax slammed into you so hard, and sudden you screamed for the second time that day. Your head spun and your legs shook uncontrollably. You’d read about legs shaking from orgasm, but had never thought it was true till this moment.

Suddenly you felt lips pressed to yours in the gentlest kiss. You’d reached up and ran your fingers through his hair as you pressed him into the kiss. You couldn’t help but taste yourself on his lips, but it didn’t gross you out. You wondered if he was going to fuck you now and were surprised when you realized you wanted him to.

“I was supposed to be getting you for dinner.” He mumbled, breaking the kiss. “Annie is waiting.”

“Oh my gosh, it’s been forever!” You shrieked as you wriggled out from beneath him and rushed to the closet. “I wanted to apologize to her and I’m making her wait now too?”

The Marquis chuckled as he watched you rush around the room getting dressed like the house was on fire.

You ran in the bathroom and picked up his clothes, rushing back to the bed and tossing them down beside him. Grabbing his underwear, you began to put them on him. “I must say, not many women have ever put my clothes on.” He mused.

“Stand up,” you ordered. He obeyed and you got his boxers in place. Grabbing his pants you shimmied then up his legs, before grabbing his undershirt. Slipping the shirt over his head and tucking it, you reached for his button down shirt and pulled it on, pressing it down, attempting to remove as many wrinkles as possible. You buttoned it and tucked it into his pants, before securing them with his belt.

“My god you have complicated outfits, but you always look amazing so I guess it’s the price we must pay,” you said as you smiled up at him. He was looking at you with the strangest look on his face, but you were in too much of a hurry to think about what it could mean. Grabbing his vest, you put it on, followed by his blazer. There were still a few accessories on the bed, but you figured you’d done well enough when you fastened his ridiculously expensive watch into place. “Okay, you’re not perfect, but good enough for me. Let’s go eat! I’m starving.”

You didn’t notice the look of amusement on the Marquis face as you dragged him out of the room barefoot as you were. The fact you’d chosen a $10,000 dollar Zuhair Murad beaded mini dress, and threw it on like it was an old hoodie, made you that much more endearing. He wondered if you were even aware of the couture designer. He was a personal friend of his and he tried to imagine the man’s reaction to witnessing one of his creations worn by a barefoot girl, dragging a French aristocrat through his home like a naughty puppy.

You looked back at the Marquis and smiled at his dopey looking face. He wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t being an overbearing, controlling psycho. Maybe Annie was right and you should just make the best of this whole situation. Maybe he’d even let her go.