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sierrale8ne · 15 hours ago

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40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER ELEVEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings angst, allusions to sex, more julian mentions

kalena speakss 🪽! yall will hate me and thank me for this chapter, sorry :(

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut

“Nuh uh! I’m standing next to Boogers, she was my senior!”

“She was everyone’s senior, she was here for too damn long.” Sarah responds, making the bunch of my former teammates laugh.

I don’t even bother to fight back. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss these girls until I was across the country. Connecticut has become home to me, five years of lessons and friendships that I’ll hold into forever. It’s my first time back in Connecticut since the national championship, and the feeling is unreal.

The amount of UConn jerseys is unreal, cheers each time I checked in, after every shot. It became normal to me, loudest crowds in LA, then Minnesota, and now Connecticut. My third home.

We all stand at center court at Mohegan Sun, all of my former teammates excluding Aubrey who’s in New York and Kaitlyn who’s in San Francisco.

We take the picture and everyone disperses, breaking into a multitude of conversations.

“So, we going out tonight? Like old times?” Ice is beaming at me, a smile fitting her face as she tugs me down with an arm around my neck.

I chuckle. “I’m too damn old to be showing up at Ted’s again.” I mutter. My shoes squeak against the hardwood with each step I take to get out of her hold.

“No, not Ted’s, a different— that doesn’t matter. You coming? Please?”

I nod, tugging on the gatorade towel that accumulates the sweat around my neck. “Cam’s coming too.”

“Perfect! The more the merrier.”

—

The more the merrier was right.

The club was loud and fucking packed, from athletes to college kids, anyone that you could imagine. My leg bounces along to the music playing while Allie and Azzi talk about God knows what a few feet in front of me. The beer I’m drinking glides down my throat while I look around.

“This place is jumpin’.” I murmur to Caroline next to me.

She nods, the hair that frames her face swinging over her shoulder as she looks at me. “I know. Maybe you can get some play tonight.”

“You think I’m not gettin’ any in LA?” I laugh, taking another swig.

“I know you’re not getting any. I have my sources.”

I roll my eyes, spinning back around in my bar stool for another drink.

There was definitely enough alcohol in my system. Tequila burning in my chest and a couple beers downed as well. I’m well beyond thinking straight, which to me is fine since we don’t play again for another two days.

“Lemme get a dirty shirley.” I tell the nice bartender who’s probably cringing at my alcohol breath.

“Can I get one of those too? And two shots of vanilla crown, please?”

The voice literally makes me freeze.

I know it well, so well, that I’m not even surprised when I look to my right and Nyla sits there with a smile towards the bartender. I haven’t seen her in what feels like years, even if the last time was in Tampa during the tourney.

She looks good. I mean, she always does. It’s why I let her walk all over me for so long. Why I kept going back no matter how much it hurt.

Nyla wears a blue corset top, it contrasts beautifully with her brown skin and cups her breasts in a way that drags my eyes down to them. Sober, I wouldn’t have paid her any mind. But right now my head is spinning and I can’t help it.

“Good to see you.” She feeds me a tight lipped smile.

I look over my shoulder at Caroline, who is no longer paying any attention to me.

“You look good, Ny.” I say through squinted eyes.

The bartender slides my drink to me over the table, her’s as well. And when Nyla picks up her drink, and her lips purse around the small black straw, my mind immediately goes to Maraye.

I haven’t thought about her in a while, not since she left my apartment. Yet, the second I look at Nyla I think of her. The way her hands, done up with pretty french tips, would wrap around the glass cup. Or the way she smiled at me when I bought her a drink that night in Atlanta.

I turn away, feeling the wood of the bar dug into my back as I watch Allie, and now Cameron and Caroline. They’re inebriated, definitely more than me, and dancing freely to Teenage Dream by Katy Perry.

“You don’t wanna talk?”

“What’s there to talk about, Nyla.” The statement navigates through the air, and the second it reaches her ears she huffs.

“You’ve never been good at talking about things.” Nyla laughs.

I’m quick to scoff and take another hefty gulp of my shirley. “I’ve always been good at that. You just don’t seem to listen to me.”

We sit in an uncomfortable silence, her heal taps against the tiled floor in a rhythm I wish would stop.

“We should talk, P. About Tampa, about everything. You ghosted me the morning after.”

“And you ghosted me after I told you I had feelings for you.” I returned. “It was forever ago, Nyla. Move on.”

I see her down one of her shots before slamming the small glass down on the counter. She takes in a sharp breath of air, swiveling in her chair to look at me. Nyla’s upset.

So many months of me getting angry, then realizing how badly I need her, then going right back. Countless times spent having sex with her rather than realizing how much I was letting myself go by just being around her.

She ruined me, and now that I’m not falling for it, she’s upset.

“Why’re you being such an ass about this?” She yells, the music drowns out the noise but I can still make out the bass in her voice. “It’s that bitch in LA, huh? That’s why you can’t talk to me?”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” I snap almost instantly.

It’s too often that I forget that Maraye and I aren’t the only two people in the world. That everyone around us still sees the way we look at each other or act around one another.

We co-exist with everyone else. They are also affected by the shit we do. The things we say.

The way we kiss each other.

“Oh so she is your girlfriend?”

“You’on’t get to be mad about shit. I’m setting boundaries with you.” I say, refusing to bring Raye’s name up again and make things worse. I care about Maraye, obviously, and if I had to hear a girl who literally ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it repeatedly call her out of her name again, I might get suspended.

I finish what’s left of my vodka filled drink, mouth tasting of grenadine and tingling faintly from the sprite.

“I want you, P. Y’know that.” Nyla hums. She’s so damn sadistic. She knows the exact way to get under my skin all the while turning my brain to mush for her.

“No you don’t.” I scoff. “You don’t know what you want, Ny. That’s why I ended all this shit.”

This conversation is entirely reminiscent of the one I had with Raye earlier this week. Which makes me think that she didn’t do anything about the pressing Julian-situation.

Then I’m getting angry all over again. Pissed off that not only is the girl that I want is probably at home pillow talking her boyfriend, but that the girl I once was fucking helpless over is sitting in front of me telling me everything I want to hear from her. Not her–Nyla, her–Maraye.

Even though I have on shorts and t-shirt, my body still feels like I’m on fire as if I was wearing a full snow suit. The alcohol and combined anger has my brain running in laps, from Maraye to Nyla to the fucking flight I have to be on time for in the morning.

And it’s hard to keep it all intact with the way Nyla fucking looks at me. Like she hates me but there’s still a glint in her eye that reminds me of the first time we met. When I saw her in the stands sophomore year, her hair was short and brown with blonde streaks. She was everything then.

“Paige.”

“No, Nyla.”

But now, I don't even recognize her. Her voice sounds like a fever dream, or a fragment of my imagination.

“I can fix this.”

Her hand rests on my knee. I should jump or push her away but I just stare at it like an idiot.

My legs spread apart subconsciously, welcoming her between them. And I am an idiot, allowing her to stand in this place that I have decided belongs to Maraye.

“Lemme fix it, P. Like old times.”

We’re at eye level like this. Her hand trailing up my thigh and to my shoulder. I need to push her away. Tell her to get off me, and then head back to the hotel. By myself.

But I can’t.

For whatever damn reason. I can’t.

—

July 2025 — Los Angeles, California

I rock awkwardly on my heels, bottom lip tucked between my teeth so tight it might bleed.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest while I wait for the door to swing open. I can hear the hum of the air conditioning system blow through the hallway and the sound of my breaths coming out heavy and ragged.

The lock click echos when the door finally does pull open and there he stands. Hand stuffed in the pocket of his black dress pants.

It’s crazy, that just months ago I was head over heels over this man. The sight of him like this would’ve sent me into orbit, but now it’s like he’s just here. Just another person in my world.

“We need to talk.” I stutter, eyes glued to him.

“Yeah.” Julian responds, turning around and walking into his apartment. He doesn’t close the door, leaving it open for me to follow him, I do so not forgetting to lock it behind me.

“This needa be quick. I got a meeting.” He murmurs as we approach his bedroom.

I haven’t been here in forever, and that’s totally and completely my own fault. I’ve been so damn avoidant. Sure I was always working, but I made time in my day to go see Paige or Rickea or my sister. But with Julian I just chose not to.

“That’s fine.” I say. “We uh, Ion think this is working, Ju.”

He hums, nodding and throwing on a button up shirt over his wife beater shirt.

I don’t even think he’s surprised, more content with the result. Like he expected this the second I rang his doorbell. Maybe even earlier than that.

“Damn.” It’s not a disappointing damn, quite the opposite actually.

“I’m sorry. I just— I can’t give you what you want. We’re one opposite ends of life right now, and I don’t wanna hurt you. Really.”

I don’t know how much is the truth and how much is meant to be a lie to get him to not talk about our last argument. I know I can’t give him what he needs, it’s not because of my alleged time management struggles.

My heart wasn’t in it. Even if it wasn’t for Paige, I’d be calling it quits because I’m not into him the way I should be. She taught me that. The lengths I’d go to for someone I had feelings for, I simply don’t think I could do for him.

“That’s it? Y’just can’t make time for me?”

I huff at the undertone of his voice.

“Nah, this isn’t me arguing. You really think that?”

I nod. “Among other things, yes.” I can’t look at him. Because even though I think he doesn’t, Julian knows me well. He knows my tells and the way I react under pressure. “You deserve better than me, Julian.”

His cologne burns through the air when he sprits it out across his skin. I’m sure that the second I leave, that damned scent would be ingrained into my mind forever, I’d never forget it.

“And this has nothing to do with her?”

Julian doesn’t look away from me for a second, staring holes into my soul that make me feel naked. My hands sweat, and I stuff them in the back pockets of my jeans.

I’d be dumb to stand here and keep lying. I’m already an idiot for thinking that everything would be peaches and cream after this. So I take a breath of air, which basically confirms any doubts Julian has running in his head.

“I— Ju.”

“I fuckin’ knew it. You sleepin’ with her?”

“No. No, Ju. She just— it’s so easy to be myself around her, and I feel like I'm always fighting to be myself with you.” I explain, partially trying to save my ass. “I dunno.”

“So that’s it. You cheat on me and think shit just gonna work out with her?”

“All I can control is this. We aren’t working, so we’re breaking up. That’s it, Julian.” I say, fully aware of how disgusted he looks with me right now.

Never in a million years did I think this shit could happen to me. I’m so conflicted, I don’t deserve whatever happy ending may come with Paige. I don’t deserve his forgiveness either, that’s for damn sure.

“Whatever.” Julian shrugs, walking out of the room with his shoes in hand. I follow behind him, trying to meditate the situation any way I can. It doesn’t work, as I expected.

He trots to the door, unlocking it again and pulling it open. He stands in the doorway, looking at me expectantly. His height looms over me as he waits.

Words form on my tongue and instantly die there. I shut my mouth, slipping through the corridor and hearing it slam behind me.

And for a brief second, I feel good. Like everything is going the way it’s supposed to.

Then the reality of it all hits me, and I feel like I want to run into a wall.

—

July 2025 — Hartford, Connecticut

My heartbeat rings in my ears while I make an attempt to catch my breath.

Nyla lays next to me, sweaty and naked, and months ago I would’ve been completely enamored by the sight. But now I’m just fucking disgusted.

She’s gorgeous, always has been. That’s not the issue.

The issue is her lips don’t taste like that vanilla sweet cream I would always taste after being with Raye. It’s almost bitter, just pure alcohol.

I eagerly throw my legs off the side of the bed. We’re at her apartment, not too far from my hotel. I feel her stare into my back, piercing through me and suddenly I’m well aware of my own nakedness. I toss my bra followed by my shirt over my head before picking up my boxers and putting them on too. The bed shifts, dipping slightly before I feel her hand on my arms.

The events of the last hour have sobered me up tremendously, her hands that once were burning hot to the touch are suddenly freezing. Almost dead.

“Where you goin’?” Nyla asks. Her voice is raspy from the screaming of my name. It should make me feel good, as it always seems to no matter who I’m with.

This time it doesn’t.

I shrug her off of me standing up from the bed and searching for the rest of my clothes. My shorts, socks, shoes all scattered somewhere. I threw the hair tie that kept my hair in a ponytail somewhere too, and Nyla was definitely crazy enough to use it to make a clone of myself.

“Paige, I said—”

“I heard what you said. I’m getttin’ the fuck outta here.”

“You’re not doing this shit again.” She grumbles, pulling on her panties and trying to chase after me. Nyla grabs my arm as she spins me around, looking up at me while I stare up at the ceiling in an attempt to avoid her tits in my face.

“This was a mistake.” I explain, pushing her off of me and finally putting on my shorts. My shoes follow. “You and me are fuckin’ done. Ion know how many times I gotta say that for it to click in your damn head.”

“‘Cause you say shit like that and then come crawling right back!” She’s yelling now, and I can only imagine how irritated her neighbors have become with us. “You wanna act like you didn’t just fuck me? Or that you didn’t tell me you missed me.”

“I’m fucking drunk! That’s the only reason why I do any of this shit with you.” I yell, back. “Ion want shit to do with you, Nyla. I’m moving on.”

“Moving onto that ho, in LA? Is she better than me?”

“You got one more fuckin’ time to—” I cut myself off with a heavy breath, shaking my head and grabbing the rest of my belongings off her nightstand. “Get over it. We’re done. This is never, and I mean never, fuckin’ happening again.” I muse. I’m quick to rush out of the apartment, phone in hand, while I shut the door.

I feel dirty. Like I just committed a fucking felony and was on the run.

The cool air finally hits me like a breath of fresh air when I finally touch the streets. My hotel wasn’t far, a block, maybe more, away.

I’m ashamed of myself, for going back to Nyla and falling for her dumbass words as if they meant something. They never did.

Then it hits me.

Maraye.

I nearly stop in the middle of the street before picking up my pace and walking into the hotel building.

God knows what decision she’s made. She could be with Julian right now telling him everything he wants to hear. Or she could be waiting for me. To call her, to text her, to tell her that I miss her.

And believe it or not, I do. I fucking miss her crazy. Her voice and those gorgeous fucking eyes. The way she listens to me like I’m the only person left on Earth, like it’s just me and her. I miss her smell, the Chanel no.5 combined with some vanilla body spray that she almost always seemed to have on, that permanently left its mark on my nose and my soul. Everything about her being, I miss it like crazy.

I’m in the elevator, the hum of the gears and the corny ass elevator music that plays only leaves me with my thoughts. Feelings of disparity and fucking anger.

How could I be so stupid. All it took was a few drinks and a fucking glare and now I’ve made arguably the biggest mistake of my life.

My phone starts ringing when I pull out my key card. I stand in the hallway, flipping the device over and staring at it.

Her name, in bright and bold font with the anatomical heart emoji next to it. It’s so intimate, an emoji that I think I’ve only ever used in correspondence with her. The picture is recent, I changed it after she left my place that night. It’s the two of us seated on my couch, her head resting on my shoulder with her lips in that cute pout she does in almost all her photos. My eyes are red from sleep but I still keep a nose-scrunched smile on my face.

I catch myself just standing there, looking at her looking at me until the call goes to voicemail.

I’m glad that it does, because I know that if I were to pick up the phone and hear her voice as she talks I might break down.

I unlock the door, kicking my shoes off the minute the door closes. I rest my back against it, head tossed onto the white painted portal.

Then my phone buzzes again.

i miss you. call me in the morning k?

I fucked up. Fucked it all up.

#sierrale8ne #kalena’s works ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #uconn wbb #la sparks #lesbian #my fic #40 days and 40 nights

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mvmnbnv · 6 hours ago

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Please tell me I'm not the only one who doesn't see sex solely as a fucking submissive and dominant dynamic...pls tell me that some of us just like the idea of pleasing our partner without having to be submissive to them..

Because the thing with caitvi is that people will bring up this stuff solely in this sub dom way and straight up tell on themselves and let us know why this dynamic is toxic

"If Cait topped vi that'd be seen as abuse of power or taking advantage of vi" then she shouldn't be trusted around vi during sex at all???

"Vis topping Cait so it's okay!" Vis on her knees in a damn jail cell with a submissive expression with lyrics over the scene implying Cait is "higher than god" and that vis "down there being a doll" and having to "take it" if she wants someone like caitlyn..she has NO power in this dynamic no matter what acts she's performing. People are literally out here calling her a SERVICE top and saying she's WORSHIPPING caitlyns body...yall tell on yourselves with everything you say. Yall know vi is not in control here...from the lyrics to the scenery to the position vi is in...that scene is gross.

This is not me saying "lol vi is a bottom" either, i couldn't give less of a fuck what position she takes in bed canonically. This is me saying this shit isn't healthy...and yall seeing something this degrading and praising it is wild, while also trying to say vi is exercising any power here but everything else that comes out of your mouth and from the source material says something totally different. Vi "topping" doesn't fix shit, because regardless she's still seen as lesser and someone who has to take bullshit for this relationship to work. On her knees in a dirty jail cell. Seen being desperate as fuck in previous eps for someone who couldnt give less of a shit. Sending her to battle after being wounded and putting her in the hands of someone like ambessa...not even given the comfort of a bed or anything. She's not important in this dynamic

#vi arcane #arcane vi #arcane #anti caitvi

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i-love-ptv · 2 days ago

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Family Reunion Whenever I’m Home ᓚᘏᗢ

Pairing: Boyfriend!JJ Maybank x Witch!Girlfriend!Reader

Based on the prompt: “Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing?” “What? I need to heat up the potion.” “In the microwave?” (another pinterest prompt, ik guys..)

Wc: 1,661

Fluff—Thanksgiving diner!! JJ gets a boner but no smut or anything like that!

An: First off, HI GUYS!!! thought i’d put this out for yall cause i think it’s cute, better than thanksgiving (i hate thanksgiving sorry) so ya!!

also!!!!! reader is written to kind-of be like a fairytail witch? i’m not super like, educated on witchcraft n all that jazz, so i tried to make sure it wouldn’t offend anyone in any way!! (lmk if there’s any problems i love you all)

Feedback is always appreciated and welcomed!! xoxo

“JJ, they’re almost here! Hurry up and set the table!” You giggle as JJ pressed another kiss to the crook of your neck.

“‘S fine…I’m sure they’ll be willin’ to help anyways.” JJ murmurs against your cold skin.

November 28th; Thanksgiving. The day where you get together with your friends and family, and spend the day together sharing thanks, food, and laughs.

Hence why the pogues, alongside the soon-to-be born baby pogue, are coming over to your and JJ’s shared home for dinner.

You’ve been cooking all day, finishing up what you didn’t yesterday, with no help from JJ of course.

It’s not like he didn’t offer, he definitely tried to take ahold of your cooking spoon.

…Which resulted in a swat sent to his hand.

You “banished” —JJ’s words, not yours, to clean the house while you cooked. It’s very apparent that JJ can’t cook to save his life, you also can’t rely on him to get a real meal in his system, or anything healthy.

You still think about the time where he ate moldy bread to this very day.

Thankfully, the rest of the pogues agreed to bring food as well, so you didn’t have to make much; the only problem is, they’re arriving soon and for some reason, the table is still not set.

Your boyfriend's hands continue to wander down your body, which doesn’t help your growing irritation. Not necessarily at him, but at the lack of acknowledgement to your pleas.

“Jackson,” You speak lowly, immediately catching JJ’s attention. You’re using that voice that’ll make him do anything you please in a heartbeat. He’s obsessed with the fact that his normally soft-spoken girl can straighten him out.

You continue, “Can you set the table for me, baby?” JJ breaks away, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course…” He mutters before turning around to the table. You start to feel bad, but all your feelings of guilt disappear once you notice the pink tint on his cheeks and the ever-growing boner he’s sporting.

“God, Jay. I mean, what the hell?”

The golden-haired boy puts his hands up as his mouth practically hits the floor.

“Well, what do you expect?! My super hot, witch girlfriend gets all stern with me, and-and you expect me not to feel some ‘typa way?!” JJ exclaims.

You roll your eyes at his antics, but your attention is drawn elsewhere when you notice your cat lurking on the counter.

“Down! Get down, Lottie!” You half-heartedly yelp, making a ‘shoo’ motion towards her; her wide eyes merely bore back at you.

You grab her then hear your doorbell ring, which makes the three of you jump, Lottie ends up wandering away.

“Go fix that, Jay.” You’re moving quickly, mainly to distract yourself from looking at the boy you’ve grown to love. You know that one glance will start something that neither of you are able to finish.

JJ hobbles off to your shared bathroom, murmuring curse words under his breath as you reach the door.

When it opens, Sarah pushes her way through first—well, her bump does.

“Oh my gosh! I’ve missed you so much!” She yells, making you wince, but your smile never leaves your lips. It’s an awkward hug for sure, but neither of you mind.

John B comes through next, sheepishly. He lets out a “sorry about her” while he adjusts the pan in his hands.

“Uh, where do you want me to put this?” John B asks, his eyes lingering on the half-set table.

You purse your lips, taking one between your teeth, “On the counter is fine for now.”

“—Please don’t drop it…” “I’m not going to drop it!” You hear shouts coming from the front lawn. You wobble your way over with Sarah still latched onto you when you see Cleo and Pope walking towards you.

Pope’s carrying what you assume is mac and cheese, and Cleo holds a ham, which is rather big in her hands.

They greet you both warmly, to which you reply timidly. It’s not that you had any problem with them, quite the opposite! But the only person to really get you out of your shell was JJ. Kie claims that it’s probably because he was your “first love” since the beginning.

Speaking of her, Kiara, alongside her girlfriend Monica, is walking up to your door with a dazzling grin. Everyone exchanges kind words; the boys offer to set the table, making you accept their act of service almost immediately.

“Mmm, it smells so good Bats!” Sarah groans, wafting the air, Kiara agrees with her.

“Where’s rude boy?” Cleo asks with a smirk. But before you could respond, JJ comes out of the bedroom with his arms stretched out wide.

“Right here, howdy y’all!” JJ nearly throws himself at the pogues, welcoming them all in a group hug.

“Hey, Jay?”

“Yeah B?” JJ turns to the brunette.

“Your fly’s down, bud.” John B snickers, then pats JJ on the back, leaving JJ fumbling with his pants with his ears burning red.

Boisterous laughter rings throughout the halls of the cluttered but cozy home; the table’s been set, the food is ready, and everyone’s in place to eat.

Pope’s rambling on about god knows what as of right now, so you take the opportunity to head to the kitchen undetected.

JJ can hardly hear over the [somewhat] playful screaming match between John B and Kiara. But faintly, he can hear the sound of bottles and pots clanging about in the kitchen.

He gets up from his seat, and JJ’s nearly tip-toeing over. He hears a few mumbled curse words followed by a few clicks and beeps.

JJ sees you: his sweet, gentle, oblivious, spell-casting lover. —And soon to be wife. Your frame blocks his view of what you’re standing in front of, but JJ can easily identify the low humming coming from the microwave.

You take a step back, making JJ take one forward towards you. Your hands are cupped together but remain low in front of you, and he can just barely make out the sight of you looking fondly into the lit up glass.

JJ looks over your shoulder, and his charming smile fades as he sees the glass bottle filled with a liquid he can’t even distinguish spinning slowly in circles.

“Wait, wait, wait! What are you doing?” JJ whisper-shouts.

You jump at the unexpected hands placed on your shoulder, letting out a gasp as you turn around.

You blink at him all doe-like, and JJ feels his resolve slipping all ready. “What? I need to heat up the potion.”

“In the microwave? Really, baby?” JJ tilts his head at you, it reminds you of a puppy-dog. His warm hands continue to rub up and down on your sleeve-covered arms.

“…Well, we haven’t been able to fully unpack all of my stuff, remember? You’ve been busy with work this week.” Your confusion never leaves your face. That’s when JJ remembers.

JJ and you have finally moved in together; meaning no more bed hopping between the chateau and your parents’ house. Everything’s been unpacked and placed carefully throughout the small house, except for your cauldron; alongside your books, bowls, daggers, and pretty much all of your stuff unfortunately.

JJ’s guilt is crawling up his throat; you had reassured him several times that you didn’t mind, and it wasn’t a pressing matter. But when you’re looking at him so sweetly, and your obliviousness to the situation rings deep, JJ’s heart can’t help but feel a pang.

You tear your eyes away from the boy once you hear the ‘beep, beep, beep’ from the rickety appliance.

You grab the bottle out of the microwave, and hold it so that it’s leveled with JJ’s eyes. Now that he can get a good look at it, JJ takes in its appearance. The liquid is somewhat of a sage green color (JJ barely even knows what that is), and it has some floating bits inside, but it doesn’t look nearly as gnarly as some of the other things you’ve concocted.

“Do ya think Sarah would drink this if I asked her to? It’s an elixir made to help and protect her and the baby. I’m not very worried about John B.” JJ swears he’s listening, honestly! He is! But at the same time, he’s really only focusing on the cute scrunch your face is making and your curious eyes.

You look at him awaiting an answer, “Mmm, how about we wait a little bit before we start giving Sarah all your fancy potions, huh cupcake?”

JJ’s flashing that grin at you that makes you weak in the knees, and all you can do is pout at him.

“Awee..Okay,” you drag out, your voice remains hushed.

JJ takes your hand in his, and you let him guide you to the table, where you’re met with boasting and a few questions directed from John B of course.

JJ pulls your chair out for you, and then sits himself right beside you, even going as far as to scoot his wooden chair even closer to yours. You both are sitting so close that your thighs are smushed together, and you find yourself craving it; craving his warmth.

“So were you guys boning in there or what?” There's a chorus of “John B!”’s and “oh my god”’s let out amongst the entire group. You cover your face and cower into JJ’s side.

“Alright, shut up man!” JJ yells, but you know there’s no form of malice in it.

You let out a giggle once you uncover your eyes and see Kiara and John B going back and forth once more; Pope and Cleo also jumping in from time to time. JJ looks down at you: leaning on him, with a bright smile on your face, he can’t help but feel a sense of pride.

This was his family, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

#lee’s writing! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎#jj maybank x witch!reader #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #obx x witch!reader #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #outer banks fic #obx x you #obx x reader #Spotify

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onestrangechild · 2 days ago

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What your fav Legion says about you, from some nerd on an app

Ultramarines:

I like to think of you guys like Glock owners. Yes, on paper, you guys are the least creative but that means you guys are the most reliable. Guilliman was probably the best primarch to come back to the setting because he was the most stable, and it shows in his marines, who don’t have trauma for the sake of plot. You admire the other legions, but it’s the no nonsense approach they bring to battle that you respect the most.

For honor and glory.

Blood Angels:

You think Vampires are dope as Fuck, and you’re right. Your favorite TV show is probably season 1 of Netflix’s Castlevania (same) or HELLSING, and play the Vampire Counts in the Total War Warhammer games. You go into a seething rage at the merest mention of the WarMaster, and probably wanna rip Erebus’s hearts out and lay them before sanguinius’s feet. You’re probably a bit annoyed with people hiding their gear from you because they think you’re a Blood Raven, but you’ll forgive them in time.

Dark angels:

You think Medieval Knights are dope as Fuck, and you’re right. You dig the chivalry and honor they embody at all times, think dark green and gold looks drippy (it does), and think the Lion is an absolute badass (he is). You also probably grieved for what the honored 1st could’ve been before GW wrote them to all be paranoid douchebags, and can’t wait for the returned Lion to make some changes around his legion. Also, you’re extremely tone deaf, please learn to read the room yall

Salamanders:

OUT OF THE FIRE, AND UNTO THE ANVIL!

Whilst I’m more of a Blood Angel or Iron Hand myself, I have Immense respect for the sons of Vulkan. You think blacksmithing is cool as fuck and probably watch clips of Forged in Fire, or any of the various Blacksmith YouTubers there are. You also think Fire is cool, and think that Astartes should be nicer to Guardsmen in lore.

Imperial Fists:

As an Iron Warrior simp, suck my toes you Imperial Favorite. Now that that’s out of the way, the Imperial Fists is an entire legion of Engineers including you (probably). You think Emotions only make Simple things Complex and thus think as logically as life will let you, fair enough. Youre as tired of the “Imperial Fists are as cold as their home world” about as much as you are of Perturabo’s complaining, miss your genefather, and can feel the happy chemicals SURGING in your brain looking upon a reinforced defense manned by soldiers who’s only concern is holding the line.

Iron Hand:

As an Iron Hand myself, I know the “daddy issues” joke is fruit hanging lower than Ferrus Manus’s head rolling around on the floor, so I won’t. You’re a lot like an Imperial Fist, critically logical and as stalwart as Iron, but unlike imperial fists you’re allowed to have a personality! Unfortunately that Personality is tempered by a healthy dose of Trauma! Your hatred for the Emperor’s Children is just as violent as the Blood Angels and the Sons of Horus, and you pray Fulgrim gets a model so you can personally shoot him in the mouth.

White Scars:

You’re a vehicle guy, and you like going Fast. You also have a great appreciation for cultures like Feudal Japan, Ancient China, Mongolia, etc. idk what else to put here since I’ve never really… looked into their lore… (-(

Raven Guard:

You’re a quiet person, maybe you’re emo/punk, maybe you like dressing up gothic, but you’re definitely the quiet type. Whether that’s social anxiety or just a person of few words doesn’t matter too much, you vibe with the sad raven boys cuz they’re badasses. Unfortunately I cannot take those beaked helmets seriously.

Space Wolves:

I heard an explanation that I agree with once. You guys have such a rich history, a badass primarch that’s probably gonna return (eventually), and a very well developed Viking aesthetic that Is appreciated by those willing to dig into it… but to everyone on the outside you’re just a furry. And it’s kinda tragic…

Anyways, this is all just my opinion which means obviously this is Fact and should be Definitely taken as such

#in hashtags we trust #warhammer 40k #headcanon #40k #space marines #space marine 2 #warhammer 40000 #scifi #stereotypes #obviously fact #Found the Soundsmith fan

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