#like. logistically. I know it’s fine. it’s going to be fine. even if it’s the worst 40-65 minutes of my graduate career it’s only 40-65 mins

[littlespoonevan]

.

[badolmen]

I am. Clam.

[b-blushes]

‘funny’ side effect of using so much energy to make sure I’ve been doing a good evening routine this past week is that I’ve been so late eating (in terms of what’s normal for me) for so many of my meals this week 🙃

having a lot of ~autism moment~s lately! :P like, wild that the discipline (executive dysfunction/spoons/mental energy) required to just. initiate the sequence of ‘evening routine’ in a timely enough manner to give me enough time to calm down so I can try to sleep less badly has diverted SO much ability for the scheduling in the rest of the day.

I wanna be in slug mode but alas the show must go on

[kuiinncedes]

jdfuafhuagkldflgajkd

[gromlyn]

THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING!!!!!

This kind confirmed for me what I already though. Some things are impossible to adapt.

[misskamelie]

Wrt the situation(tm), I managed to resolve the communication issue between us and it's been pretty chill since then. I care about them a whole lot, but there's still something I cannot quite grasp about what I feel towards them

[cerastes]

I saw there are a lot of forest fire in chile right now. are you gonna be okay?

Three days after the fact, yeah, I'll be fine, personally and physically, but it's dire, I'm not going to lie. I've never seen so much fire in my life. When you think about a big fire, your impression might be two or three buildings on fire with some firefighter trucks spraying water at it. This was kilometers upon kilometers of raging blazes. Kilometers. Heads up if you are sensitive to these kinds of posts, this isn't a happy one.

Entire hills on fire. Lush green hills reduced to ash and smoke.

Not to mention the urban parts that got hit badly

The official death toll keeps increasing each passing hour as they clear up the rubble and ruins and find more corpses. People I know lost everything. Some people I know lost their loved ones. Dogs are eating corpses on the street because they haven't picked them up yet, so you have neighbors warding off said dogs. Bodies get picked up too badly burned, eaten, decomposed, or a mix thereof to be identified.

It's a tragedy. It all reeks of smoke, there's ash everywhere.

It was sudden, it was brutal. Seeing elderly survivors wondering "what's next for me? I don't have enough years left among the living to rebuild all I lost, all I worked for throughout my life, gone like that" breaks my heart. The government is offering all sorts of aid, but there's also people whose documents, like ID and other identifying documentation, was lost in the fire, so they have to get re-issued an ID before they can actually start filing for aid. The SML (Servicio Médico Legal) is oversaturated with all that's suddenly on their plate and can't return the bodies of people to their families yet, and these are all people that still need food, shelter, hygiene, and so on after the fact. Seeing the logistical nightmare that becomes life after you lose everything firsthand from other people is sobering and painful. Yeah, they survived, but what comes next? It's a sense of uncertainty that is smothering and asphyxiating, it's hopelessness.

I apologize if I come across as dramatic, especially so as someone who was luckily not affected, but it really, really has been heartbreaking to witness, especially from very up close, as I was there, and it's one thing to know of a tragedy that happened elsewhere, maybe even in your own country, but elsewhere, and it's a whole other beast to have seen it directly as it unfolded.

Keep Chile in your thoughts. If you are able to, please consider donating to Desafío Levantemos Chile, to my knowledge the only drive that accepts Paypal, thus, foreign donations, to help the various efforts to rebuild and aid those affected. Desafío Levantemos Chile dates back to 2010, when Chile got hit by a devastating earthquake, and is an NGO that bases its continued existence in being able to provide aid during catastrophes such as this one.

[postracehair]

paying attention

max verstappen x reader | 1.7k

a minor accident on a night out forces you to call the one guy you're not sure about. will a hospital waiting room clear things up between you?

cw: enemiesish-to-lovers, some blood (from charles), drunkenness (from charles), a hospital

a/n: first time here. let's see how this goes. __

The club is loud, crowded, and sweaty. You are tired, sober, and searching the sea of people for a certain silhouette. 

"He's not here." Oscar grins at you and takes a sip of his drink, eyebrows wiggling. "Max," he says. 

You frown. 

"I'm not --"

"Sure, you're not," he says. 

You're not entirely certain how you got here -- a club in the middle of Monaco with some of the most famous and wealthy guys in the world. An invite from a friend of a friend one time became two times became you rubbing elbows with the likes of Oscar Piastri and Charles Leclerc and...

Max Verstappen. Who is not here. Which is good, because --

"Why do you hate him, by the way?" Oscar asks. You huff. 

This would be much more bearable if you had a drink in your hand. "I don't." 

Oscar smirks at you. "It's that time he spilled a gin and tonic on you, I bet. You were so mad, I thought he was going to --"

The Australian keeps talking but you stop listening. Your heart beats in time with the thumping music. 

It's not that you hate Max. That would be exaggerating. You just don't know what to make of him. The times he's been out when you're there he's...fine. He makes sure everyone gets on the list, he buys people drinks, and he dances. But you've never really talked to him and maybe you're a little intimidated. Or maybe Oscar is right -- he did spill a drink on you. He probably apologized, but you were too pissed and embarrassed to remember. 

It sounds silly when you think about it now. 

"--just last week, he was saying that he thinks you --"

"Oh, shit!"

"No, Charles, don't!"

"Fuck --"

You and Oscar whirl around to see Charles pressing a rapidly reddening napkin to his palm.  

"Fuck's sake," you mutter. "What happened?"

The glass crunching under your shoes as you head over answers your question. 

"Whoops," Charles says, shrugging. His eyes are glassy and cheeks pink and you know before you lift the napkin that he needs stitches. 

"We're going to the hospital," you say. You think through the logistics -- can you get him there without calling an ambulance? You're not certain where the nearest emergency room is, nor if you can avoid the paparazzi. 

"Call Max," he protests, seeing your mind spinning even through his drunken haze, but you ignore him. 

"Now, Charles." You tug on his sleeve. "Keep this arm up."

It's clear that you're the most sober one here, so you tell the group you're taking him. Hardly anyone notices. Maybe they're all drunk or they just trust you with the Prince of Monaco. Who is being very annoying as you pull him out of the club and into the warm night.

"Call Max," he says again. 

"I heard you, Charles," you say. "We don't need to call him, I'll just call a car--"

"Nooo," he whines. "Just call Max. He'll take us." He shoves his phone at you and holds his injured hand high in the air like you told him to. 

Max will... probably answer. It's summer break and Charles seems to think he's at home. On his sim, or streaming, or whatever really rich guys do at home on a Friday night in Monaco. 

Before you can overthink it, you press the name on Charles's phone and hold it to your ear.

He picks up on the second ring.

"Hey, man," Max says. 

"Um, hey." There's a pause, and then Max says your name. 

"Why do you have Charles's phone?"

You look over at your friend who is examining his poorly bandaged hand. "Du, du, du, du, Max Verstappen," he hums. 

"Can you come get us? Charles cut himself on a glass and needs to get stitches."

"He -- what?"

"I'm sorry, I know it's late --"

"Where are you?" It sounds like he's moving around, keys jangling, a door closing.

"I can call a car, but he told me to call you --"

"Where are you?"

You tell him the club name and he hums. "Be there in 10. Don't leave."

"We're not going anywhere," you huff, but he's already hung up.

"Told you," Charles says, knocking his shoulder with yours. You roll your eyes and push his elbow back in the air. 

Max pulls up in a sleek four-door car in way less than 10 minutes. Charles happily gets in the back before you can say otherwise and you only hesitate for a second before sliding into the passenger seat. 

"Don't bleed on the leather, man," Max says, stepping on the gas as soon as your door is closed. The car hums under you and the streets of Monaco start to fly by. "And put your seatbelt on." 

"It's not that bad," Charles whines. "She's worrying too much."

You huff. Max slows to a stop at a red light.

"Hey," he says. It takes a second to register that he's speaking to you. You finally look at him and find his brow furrowed, jaw tight, almost as if he's actually worried. Maybe he is, even if it's just a cut. Or maybe he really is afraid Charles will get blood on the seat.

"Hi," you say. He looks amused for a second then flicks his hand at your waist. 

"Seatbelt applies to you, too."

"Oh," you breathe. "Sorry." Your brain does something funny -- for a second, you imagine Max reaching over you to grab the belt and pull it across your torso, clicking it tight at your hip. 

You blink the image away, cheeks hot, and buckle it yourself. 

"Thank you," Max says before he steps on the gas again. 

Charles rambles in the backseat about something and Max humors him while you swallow down whatever the hell the sudden tightness in your chest is. What an inconvenient time to realize you might have a crush.

There's little to no traffic and you make it to the hospital quickly. Max drops you both at the doors and Charles is stumbling his way through them before you can say thank you. You swallow the unfamiliar taste of disappointment at no longer being in Max's company and get Charles situated.

The waiting room is nice, obviously, but empty. You can hear the hum of the overhead lights beneath the faint classical music playing from somewhere and smell whatever bleach they use to keep this place clean. 

"Hospitals are so depressing." 

You straighten in your chair and turn to see Max. You let yourself look. Green hoodie, sweatpants that look soft and expensive, and sneakers.

"I thought you'd go home," you say. He shrugs and flops into the chair next to yours, rubbing a hand over his face. 

"You'll both need a ride when he's done." 

God, he looks tired. "Sorry."

Max leans forward, elbows on his knees, and turns his face to you. "For what?"

"Calling, I guess." His hair is a mess and you tuck your hands under your thighs so you don't reach for it. God, what is happening to you? "I bet you were busy."

He laughs and it's so unexpected that you laugh, too. "I don't think I'd call cleaning litter boxes busy."

"Well, still," you press. "Thank you."

Max's jaw works like he's chewing on something, eyes on your face. You try very hard not to squirm in your seat. "I think you don't like me very much," he finally says. 

"I -- what --," you sputter. He leans back in his chair with a smirk. "Why?" you manage to say.

"We don't speak," he says. "You avoid me when we're out, you didn't even call me from your phone--"

"I don't have your phone number," you mutter. 

"And it's fine if you don't," he continues. "I just want to know if I'm right."

He looks unbothered, eyes bright and jaw relaxed but his knee is bouncing. You realize that he's been paying as much attention to you as you have to him. You've been watching each other.

"No," you say, softly. "You're wrong."

His knee stills. "So why the distance?"

You sigh. God, this is not how you expected the night to go. You think back to what Oscar said in the club, to Charles demanding you call Max. Maybe this is something everyone else has seen but you. I thought you didn't like me, you don't say. I thought you didn't even care.

Something about the quiet, empty waiting room and the fluorescents and Max's tone when he told you to put on your seatbelt make you want to be honest.

"I think you're intimidating," you confess. A glance at his face reveals that you've managed to surprise him. His eyes are wide and is he...blushing? "And one time you spilled a drink on me."

That gets him to laugh. 

"Oh, god," he huffs. "That was not very well done of me." He looks at his hands, then back at you. "I owe you one."

"A drink? You didn't spill my drink," you remind him. "You spilled yours on me."

"Ehh," he says, waving his hand in the air. "Details."

Is Max Verstappen asking to buy you a drink? Your stomach erupts in butterflies. Who knew you'd be so affected by this man?

Before you can reply, Charles shoves the ward doors open and calls your name.

"Stop flirting," he says, holding up his bandaged hand with a grin. "Time to go home."

Max glances at you and rolls his eyes but his cheeks are still pink. He stands with a huff, digging his keys out of his pocket. 

Charles, still drunk, clearly, rambles about the stitches and how nice the doctors were as you walk to the car. Max sticks to your side.

"Hey," he says. "Give me your phone."

"Why?" you ask, even as you hand it over to him. His thumbs tap on the screen. 

"Now you can tell me when you're free for that drink." 

He passes it back to you and you see that he's added his number. 

"Are you guys even listening to me?" Charles whines.

"Okay, Max," you say softly. 

He grins at you. 

"Oh my goooood," Charles says. "Come on."

"We hear you, mate," Max says. "Let's go home."

[emo-batboy]

Battinson and the JL ft. His Eventual Identity Reveal

(If you’re just here for the cutesy bits, skip to Attempt #2. Otherwise, STRAP IN CUZ IT’S A LOT)

Bruce Wayne of Matt Reeves’ The Batman is not the founder type.

He wouldn’t voluntarily join a book club, much less join a league of super powered vigilantes whom he does not know personally.

So in this universe, you probably wouldn’t call him one of the three Founding members.

But he’s still integral to the formation of the Justice League

It starts out with a friendly visit :)

Bruce is patrolling on a random night in Gotham when he notices a weird thing in the sky. It’s floating just far enough behind him that a less vigilant person wouldn’t have noticed, but Bruce is always watching his own back, and he takes it as a threat.

He strays from his usual path and then heads to a warehouse roof before turning to face the threat.

It’s Superman. All smiley and dressed in primary colors. The strongest, most powerful being on Earth just floating over like he wasn’t stalking Batman a second ago. Bruce does not like that.

“What do you want with Gotham?” He asks. “I don’t,” Superman says. “I wanted to talk to The Batman.” So this is some kind of fight? An intervention? A warning? Then Superman frowns. “You…are The Batman, right?”

Bruce only nods as he considers his options, but he can’t really do that when Superman has super speed, super sight, super strength, super breath, super lots-of-things-that-Batman-probably-doesn’t-know-of.

Then Superman surprises him by landing on the roof and giving him this pitch about a superhero group.

Superman and a few other vigilantes have been bouncing around the idea of teaming up together so they can help one another protect their cities. And The Batman was a “perfect candidate.”

“I’m not joining your club.” “It’s not a club. It’s a league.” “What’s your mission statement, then?” “A what?” Bruce fights the urge to roll his eyes. He still doesn’t trust this guy. “Take your league idea back to the drawing board then we can talk.” He does not intend on talking.

But two months later, Superman is back. This time, he brings another super powered vigilante named Wonder Woman.

She smiles, politely approaches him, and says “Superman tells me you want to learn more about our league.” That is not what he said, but he doesn’t bite.

Bruce can’t decide which they remind him of more: college recruiters or cult leaders. But because Wonder Woman genuinely seems to care about seeing this project through, and the roster she has of current like-minded vigilantes is impressive, he lets her talk.

And to give her credit, she definitely thought out the logistics more. It almost makes up for the time they’re wasting.

Okay, fine. They’re still way behind on concept, and it’s pitiful. He actually feels bad.

They obviously care! They just have no idea how to run a business like he does. Is it a bit cynical to think of this league of Justice as a business? Yes, but that’s the only way he can even conceive this happening and working.

Bruce asks about their organization’s leadership structure, and that’s when Wonder Woman falters a bit. “We want to work with each other, not for.” Bruce bites his tongue on that subject.

He asks about their scope of work. “We want to help as many people as we can, but that can be ironed out later.” Bruce bites his tongue on that subject.

He asks “Who’s funding this?” She answers, “We have a few members willing to pitch in, but the majority will have to come from generous citizens.” And that’s when he just stops asking questions. Because what?

If he could cry the grease paint off, he would.

They can’t just think every super-powered vigilante is going to sing Kumbaya and braid each other’s hair. There needs to be checks and balances within the organization to avoid tyranny and corruption. They need a reliable source of donations (that doesn’t immediately out Bruce.) They need a proper chain of command. They need to map out their area of responsibility. They need to design a VERY strict vetting process. It’s not sunshine and rainbows. It’s hard work!

So he says he’ll think about it again and complains to Alfred about the weird super stalkers.

But for SOME reason, Alfred doesn’t see the problem

Alfred encourages him to join so he can “make some friends.” But how can he trust these people if they can’t even make a half-decent pitch? It’s like a bad episode of Shark Tank.

And “make friends?” They’re all masked

But after a week of gentle nudging (read: very firm lectures), Bruce agrees. ONLY to keep tabs on the rest of the vigilante world and possible threats to Gotham

(And without his help, they’ll probably butt-dial Lex Luthor the nuclear codes or something)

And he is damn well going to figure out who these people really are before he helps them make a Super Organization.

Alfred figures out about half of their secret identities purely as a brain exercise while Bruce is out fighting crime and collecting head injuries like Pokémon cards. They figure out the rest together.

They also develop contingency plans for every single member. Just in case.

And after months of Batman being visited by random vigilantes, whom he has several choice words for about personal space—“This is my city. Go away.”—he accepts. On several conditions.

Not all of them are appreciated.

Attempt #1: “Making Friends”

After several scheduling conflicts, a lot of prep work, and a really good hype session in front of the mirror, Bruce heads on over to the first official meeting.

Batman arrives with a long list of things they need to do before going public. The first thing on the list?

Write A Mission Statement

What the fuck are they actually trying to do? Bruce thinks this is a great starting point.

And you’d think (you’d think) this Justice League thing would be easier to tolerate than the drawn-out exec meetings he has to sit through with boring, old businessmen who keep delaying things so they can hash out every little detail.

To Bruce’s absolute horror, he BECOMES the boring businessman who’s delaying things so they can hash out every little detail. He misses the boring, old businessmen. At least they knew what they were doing.

Every turn, he is argued with.

“Why do we need a mission statement?” “‘Power Structure’ feels authoritarian. Can’t we just share leadership duties?” “Do we really need this much paperwork?”

Bruce has the audacity to say, “We need to develop some sort of protocol that helps us analyze any possible threat.” But no. “Why can’t I just jump in? I have eyes.” “Jumping in without studying an opponent’s behavior could cause more harm than good,” he insists. “So what? I’m going to watch an alien monster go on a rampage through my city instead of fighting it?” “Yes. You don’t know what it’s capable of.”

Bruce already regrets joining.

All he hears is the others gossiping. “Is this guy really telling us how to be heroes?” “He’s got a major stick up his ass.” “I knew we shouldn’t have let him join.” And if that doesn’t dissuade him, he doesn’t know what will.

“How was the first meeting?” Alfred asks. Bruce scowls. “I’m not making friends.”

Nonetheless, Bruce sticks it out for weeks until they have some semblance of an organization. And, to his shock and amazement, it…kind of works.

The Justice League makes its debut, and Wayne Enterprises generously donates some money “out of spite” after Lex Luthor publicly denounces the league. (Honestly, Bruce would too if he hadn’t personally duct-taped it together himself.)

But the league starts small, just like he told them, they respond to natural disasters and public safety threats first (as per the outreach initiative) and focus on protecting communities in need (as per the mission statement.)

Yes, they still think Batman has a stick up his ass because he’s a stickler for writing incident reports, but no one else reads them so he has the right to be pissed.

He’s almost kind of sort of content with how it’s going. Even his reputation as a vigilante is improving.

That’s when another glaring difference between him and the other members appears.

Despite looking the same age as the rest of the team, Bruce is actually much younger?? Even excluding the aliens, gods, etc.

Most of his teammates are in their late 30’s, early 40’s. Meanwhile, Bruce is at the ripe age of 29 and a half.

He is the youngest by ten years.

Everyone kind of just assumes he’s the same age, though, so they make references to 80’s kids stuff that he only vaguely understands through Alfred and his business partners. He just sits there in silence like a child who snuck over to the adult table and is waiting to get caught.

So on top of the rift he (accidentally) created when they started the organization, it’s even harder to connect through similar interests. Other than punching people together.

And Bruce Wayne has a bad case of imposter syndrome when it comes to their superpowers.

He’s always in the corner brooding, and everyone’s like ummm antisocial much?

But 50% of the time, it’s because he’s thinking “I’ll never amount to the incredible heroic feats everyone else has accomplished. How can I possibly make a difference to the world if I’m already struggling to save Gotham?” Like a little emo freak 🖤

(Meanwhile, you couldn’t pay those mf’s to step foot in Gotham. This Bat guy’s crazy and he’s human apparently?! No way. Nuh uh.)

The OTHER 50% of his “brooding” is Bruce standing to the side with a mixture of concern and judgment because his teammates’ competency in certain areas is…alarmingly low sometimes.

One week, he finds himself thinking, “How do these grown-ass adults not know their way around a digital map? They’re 40, not geriatric.”

Then like a week later, it’s “These fucking war fossils don’t even know Morse code. I gotta do everything around here.”

One of the final straws is when he says, “Did they just break another fucking Keurig? Who does that, Alfred? It’s the fifth one.”

Suffice it to say, he’s not very personable. But is it his fault? Well yeah, a little bit. Like……..65% his fault.

(The remaining 35% is their moaning and groaning whenever Batman calls a meeting.)

Bruce’s irritation is totally justified.

God, he just wants to go home.

Why is he doing this again?

Attempt #2: Actually Making Friends

The first JL member to break through his cold, black exterior is Wonder Woman. She needs help with search and rescue after a sinkhole opens up near an elementary school, but no one’s available until Batman responds to her call.

He’s on the scene in less than an hour and makes quick work in securing the area. Thankfully, she catches him once it’s over. (He always runs off without saying goodbye.)

“Thanks for helping. Everyone else was just so busy. I’m glad you could fly over.” Batman mumbles something that she can’t quite hear. “What was that?” she asks. “I was busy too,” he repeats. She gives him a weird look, and he freezes up for a second as he realizes that probably wasn’t appropriate to say. “I mean…this was more important. There were kids in danger so it didn’t…matter if I was busy.”

Wonder Woman considers how awkward The Batman looks for a moment then smiles. So he really is human. “Well, thank you. The help was very much appreciated.”

Since then, several small acts of kindness and solidarity earn Batman some respect from the rest of the team.

One day, Flash complains about how boring their meetings are so Batman brings a massive bin of fidget toys. After placing them in front of the Flash, he mumbles, “These are for ADHD. They’re useful.” Flash almost cries with relief. He is very touched.

Another day, Green Arrow is severely injured in battle. Without a word, Batman leaves the fight, takes him to a safe location, stops the bleeding, and does it all while repeatedly making sure he’s awake and asking permission to remove certain pieces of clothing.

In another fight, Plastic Man’s mask is thrown off, and Batman sees his face. In a second, Batman tosses a smoke bomb, picks up the mask, and hands it back before anyone else can look. It costs them time and the element of surprise, and Plastic Man knows it, but Batman did it anyway.

A JL member’s stomach grumbles during one too many meetings. Suddenly, their little break room becomes a fully stocked kitchen with shelf-stable meal items and all the basic necessities. There’s a nut-free section, a gluten-free section, everything. The only reason they know it’s him is because anyone else would have admitted to it.

(He renovated the whole fucking thing. In one night. By himself.)

And they all see how gentle he is with children. Countless times, The Batman is spotted prioritizing young civilians at any given moment.

He has lollipops in his belt. And Bluey bandaids too.

It’s the little things that make them feel closer to him :)

And okay maybe his goddamn Mission Statement lecture wasn’t so bad

So they stop moaning and groaning

Okay, now it’s bonding time WOOHOO!!

Attempt #3: Kinda? Friends??

One day, Superman says he isn’t too fond of billionaires (because of Lex, obviously) and goes on a rant about capitalism. Bruce doesn’t dare contribute because 1) he’s the richest man in the world and 2) every other billionaire he’s met is insufferable.

(Including Oliver Queen who Bruce refuses to look at while Green Arrow “defends his city’s billionaire.”)

(And while we’re on the topic of Green Arrow, Bruce cannot forget the disappointing almost-fling two summers ago. He still holds a grudge.)

Green Arrow: “You’re all fashion nightmares. Who wears a cape in the 21st century?” Batman: “At least my facial hair isn’t longer than my dick.” GA: “What was that, Batman?” B: “What?”

Also Bruce is very attracted to Superman.

(He likes older men.)

(Yes, I am referring to Henry Cavill’s Superman.)

(Sue me.)

(But don’t get your hopes up. He does literally nothing about it.)

(Coward.)

One of the JL members complains about how sore they are after a few missions so Bruce cashes in his Monthly Attempt to Socialize and says, “Try yoga. It helps me.” “…Batman, you do yoga?” “Yes. My son got me into it….It’s good for you.” “You have a son?!” He is never socializing again.

They also learn that Batman has the smallest frame on the team. (Like yeah, he’s tall, but he’s also lanky, and everyone else is either an alien or a human dorito.)

One night, they need to sneak through the vents of some building so Bruce offers to do it. Someone says, “It’s a tight squeeze. Are you sure you can fit?” Then he just takes his cape and pauldrons and shoulder pads off and is suddenly like a foot skinnier

“Wait…is this why you’re so good at hiding in the shadows?” Bruce just glares at the Flash for a second before climbing into the vents.

(The answer is yes.)

A betting pool is started over whether or not Batman is part Bat.

In fact, several betting pools begin because no one knows anything about the guy??

Aquaman and Plastic Man go to great lengths to figure out what his hair color is.

They lose their shit once Bruce tells them he’s vegetarian.

Green Lantern: “Every time he opens his mouth, we learn something new. Next, he’s going to tell me he speaks Swahili!” Batman: “I do.” GL: “Oh, come on!”

Superman: “We need someone on the inside for this international operation to work, but that’ll take at least three months undercover.” Batman: “Don’t worry. I have connections.” S: “…In Shanghai?” B: “Yes.”

The Flash adds SHANGHAI?? to his conspiracy board

Bruce needs to stop trying to socialize. It’s better for everyone’s cardiovascular health.

A year or two in, they’re all introduced to Captain Marvel. Bruce is the first and only person to learn his true identity (kid Billy Batson) because Bruce is the only one with a kid. That way, he understands the weird Gen-Alpha humor and references.

Millennia-old deities don’t use the term Flop Era.

And, of course, they play FMK at some point.

(I mean, come on. There are like TWO mature adults on this team, but Martian Manhunter doesn’t know what’s going on until it’s too late, and Wonder Woman is busy at her day job.)

During that particular round, the celebrities are Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, and Kylie Jenner. Bruce does, in fact, want to kill himself, but he chooses Fuck instead because of this exact conversation:

Green Lantern: Come on, Bats. It’s just a game! Choose already. Batman: No. I’m against killing. GL: Oh, go fuck yourself. This situation is completely hypothetical, and you know it. B: Fine! Fuck Bruce, Marry Kylie, Kill Lex. GL: See? That wasn’t so hard :) Bruce:

He tried

Attempt #4: Ah shit, FRIEND?

The identity reveal comes about three years after he joins. He’s 32, has three kids, he’s been on hundreds of missions with them, the team’s over twice its original size, and there are domestic terrorists overtaking Manhattan.

Superman, Wonder Woman, The Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, and The Batman try to extract as many civilians as possible, but now they’re being hunted. After hiding in a warehouse and considering their options, MM finally suggests that they pose as civilians, which immediately creates uproar.

Bruce, however, realizes this is the only way out.

But it’s not dramatic or badass like that one JL episode. No, instead, he thinks about it, swallows the regret, and just—

Takes off his cowl.

And the whole room falls dead fucking quiet.

Then, “Oh fuck.”

(That was Green Lantern.)

Bruce just shrugs and mumbles, “Martian is right. It’s the only way.” And really fucking hopes the grease paint hides his red face because he is not having a good time right now.

He would rather die, actually, but they need to get somewhere safe and Fast.

The others look him up and down then nod slowly. “Uh yeah.” “Okay, sure.” “This is fine.” “We’ll do that.”

The others begin slowly taking off their suits and changing into something more casual. Bruce takes his off, revealing the skin-tight compression suit underneath, and stuffs his armor in the roll-up duffel bag that’s kept in his belt.

He changes into his drifter outfit, wipes his face clean, and suddenly, The Batman’s just a normal guy. (A very pretty normal guy, mind you. His teammates have eyes.)

“We can head to my place,” Bruce says. “It’s closer, and I know the train system pretty well.” And yes, he’s pretty soft-spoken outside of the suit, but now it feels even more obvious.

Meanwhile, the others are like—

Oh. My. God.

Oh my god, he’s fucking shy. Batman is acting shy in front of us. Dear fucking god. Batman is Bruce Wayne. And Bruce is shy so Batman is fucking shy?? Bruce is pretty too. Holy fuck. He is very pretty.

And he’s so young?? Oh my god, he’s a BABY wtf?! He’s like four inches shorter. Four inches tall! They’re all towering over him without his massive boots and armor, and he just hunches over with the big duffel bag like he wants to sink into the floor, and he’s so small.

Wonder Woman wants to put him in her pocket.

Sue her.

They end up taking the train back. Bruce has on the mask and cap that hides his face (poor Superman, he really likes his jawline) and they all follow Bruce as he gets off and on several trains at seemingly random stops. THEN when they’re finally in Gotham, they head into an abandoned-looking subway station that leads them into a…cave?? WTF

And in the middle of the cave is an elderly man with a cane and a three-piece suit just lounging on a recliner. (WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK—)

He looks up from his crossword puzzle and says, “Ah! You’ve finally made friends, I see?” Bruce rolls his eyes. “This is not a sleepover,” he gripes. “Shame. I was about to grab your footie pajamas for you.”

The man smiles at them. “A pleasure to meet Master Wayne’s work friends in person. Would you like some coffee? Tea? If you’re like him, this is going to be a long night.”

No one dares to question why this man recognizes them in their civvies

They also can’t tell if the footie pajamas line was a joke or not. After tonight, nothing is off the table.

(This is a minefield of information. Barry is having flashbacks to his conspiracy board. No one is going to fucking believe him.)

They all settle into one corner of the cave. Bruce leaves to change and comes back looking like this:

(Goddamnit, Clark is having a meltdown. His hair looks so good wet.)

At one point while they’re plotting, Wonder Woman glances over his shoulder to see Bruce checking some sort of security camera. A boy, maybe nine or ten, is sleeping in bed. “Is that your son?” Bruce clearly doesn’t want to answer, but Alfred gives him a look, and Bruce sighs. “One of them. Yes.”

Later, they have to analyze some explosive samples in the cave, and Barry, forensic scientist extraordinaire, has some choice words about the non-sterile environment.

Barry: This doesn’t look safe. Bruce: My lab is perfectly clean and functional. *bat screeches* Don’t worry about that.

For the rest of the night, they use the evidence they have to track down the organization while the rest of the JL suits up and saves NYC.

After a few hours, they’re safe to return to NYC for damage control. But Alfred refuses to let Bruce go with them. “Your sons are worried. Drive them to school, then you’re coming home and sleeping.”

Bruce clearly wants to argue, but the mention of his kids stops him. He sighs and turns to the others who are already changed. “Let me know if you need anything. I can be there in ten minutes.”

They all nod, knowing full well they will not be doing that. The guy clearly needs rest.

(Also, he is a single father of three and still goes out every night to punch robbers and crime bosses? Is he doing okay?)

Then they head back to NYC with so many questions.

But a lot of it makes sense too, actually. Maybe they just weren’t thinking about the man behind the mask enough to see it.

They learned a lot about their friend that night.

And they have a lot of bets to cash in.

FIN

Okay :D that was a lot! If you enjoyed it, please let me know. This has been simmering in the back of my head for months <3 Have a great day and drink some water :)

Hey bestie @bruciemilf

[etherealkissed88]

stop focusing on logic ⋆ ˚｡𖦹⋆｡°✩

literally regardless of the 3d, you will always get what you want. you think about how it will come to be in the 3d, by using what? by using LOGIC.

for example, you want a car but your trying to make sense of the how in a logical way like -> "how will i afford this car?" or "how will i possibly manifest a car just outta thin air?"

yes humans in our time and age in this society are born into logistical thinking but part of understanding the law is knowing that you are beyond that logic that was taught to you.

trying to make what you want "make sense" in the 3d is centered around logic and it's an issue. if you want that car or that sp, stop thinking logically about how empty your wallet is or about that 3p. just be the version of you that has it already. apply. how do you know if someone will gift you that car or if you will win some kind of lotto and use it to buy the car? how do you know if that sp was thinking about you the whole time regardless of the 3p or that they were already broken up regardless of what you saw or heard?

how do you know you will just wake up and it will all appear? the thing is: you dont know (unless you manifest the how) and thats the interesting part. logic is probably telling you that it cant happen. logic is not something that you should hold onto regarding the law.

the "how" never matters. your job is knowing its yours and knowing the 3d is always neutral. the "how" is the 3d's concern not yours. its perfectly fine imagining the how if you want to but for people trying to manifest shit while doubting if it will happen because of logic... stop. logic is nothing but limits.

you can imagine anything, you can be anything, you are imagination, you are limitless

you be someone who has it and its done. stop obsessing over a copy machine that literally copies self no matter what.

be that version of self = 3d expresses that (always the law)

even when you see something you dont like in the 3d, logic starts to kick in and tell you that what you want could never come into play, causing doubts.

example: you want that cute bag -> you see you have no money or they are all sold out in your area -> logic says: “theres no way i can get it now bc of these circumstances” -> you doubt you will get it -> now you’re in this victim state and you logic will only keep you there until you break free from it

just know that the 3d and logic are irrelevant. literally anytime i manifest something and i see the opposite of what i want, i just continue being the version of me who has what they want and the 3d always ends up doing a complete 360 and showing me what i want. if logic tells you no, you have the control, not anything else.

“how do you keep being this version of you when the 3d shows you the opposite?” -> actually fulfill yourself & know everything starts w you. do you want it or not? give it to yourself & there it is.

let go of logic because you will always get what you want when you change self instead of chasing reasons of how it will appear.

who are you BEING? forget the logic. just be what you want.

kisses, jani ☆

[fingertipsmp3]

I really think I’m going to have to get a new laptop this year because the thought of using my current laptop for anything makes me want to puke

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny!! Can I please get scones with a side of juice, served by Max Verstappen? 🫡 thx bae

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? check out the menu! i've been really back to writing since my chest infection got better so please! send me orders! i love seeing what ya'll request!! as for this one, thank you so much!

scones ("but what if they see us!) + juice (cockwarming) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, semi-public sex, oral sex (max receiving), cockwarming, risky sex, girlfriend!reader

sim racing was supposed to be fun. a relaxing activity for max to turn off part of his brain that was working overtime after a practice. it made logistical sense that after a long day of racing, he would go home and race some more.

but maybe that was max's weird brain.

so, why streaming with his friend was he so stressed. and why his eyes were less on the game in front of him and more on the camera. he scratched the side of his face as he tried to compose himself. but it was rather hard when his lovely, caring, kind, amazing girlfriend was between his legs with his cock in your mouth.

this all started as a bet. you had heard all about max's self control, that max was a storm that he kept at bay. he had nerves of steel. so it was simple, he got to stream with the boys and not break concentration.

"but what if they see us!" was max's first questions. but you silenced him with a few kisses and told him it would be fine. this only piqued his interest, "and what if i win this bet?" he asked as he snaked an arm around you shoulders. you were pulled close to him. his competitive spirit got the best of him.

you rubbed his chest and giggled, "well, anything you want, max. anything, well, except maybe murder. but, any which way you want to fuck me, you can have. but!" you tapped his nose, "only if you win."

"and what if you win?"

you just smiled at him, "oh don't worry, max." you waved your hand at him, "no need to worry about that at all!" which only alarmed him further.

so now he was white-knuckled on the steering wheel as he tried to keep up the conversation with his friends over the discord call. his attention was split three ways and it was making his brain melt.

it was a little over stimulaing, but the constant throb of your lips around his cock managed to anchor him to some kind of reality. the feeling was familiar.

in all fairness, you quite enjoyed his cock in your mouth. even with the blanket over his head and lap to keep your little secret hidden. it was hot under the fleece blanket, but when max shifted every so often, it made it worth it.

"yeah, mate, yeah." max said idly, he exhaled deeply as he tried to compose himself. but it was hard when you started to move your head a little more. his eyes almost rolled back into his head. he couldn't even grab the back of your head.

that would blow your entire cover.

but, deep down the entire thing was painfully hot. the thrill of possibly being caught. of having to be sneaky. it was rare that you two were sneaking around, so moments like these made liquid heat course through his veins.

you shifted a little under the blanket and continued to lick at his cock.

he felt your name on his tongue, but kept it together. even though it was a private call between friends. he didn't want to blow your cover, but it was hard when your mouth was on him so nicely.

usually he liked to hold onto your head and rock his cock up against your throat. so to leave everything up to you while he tried to split his attention was hard.

"how's your girl, mate?" he heard.

he frozen for a moment and felt you squeeze his thigh. he cleared his throat and said, "oh you know, same old, same old." your tongue grazed his achy tip and he almost threw the steering wheel. he exhaled once more, "i mean, she's fantastic as always." he chuckled.

he shifted in his seat a little bit and you giggled to yourself as you kept his cock in your mouth. you made a small noise and max coughed to cover the noise.

he thought he was done with the race, but was coaxed into another. and it was getting even harder to keep it together. he could feel his cock in the back of your throat.

you felt like a dream, you always felt like a dream. right now he wanted to just got his fingers into your hair and push his cock as deep as it'll go. he wanted to stain your throat with his cum.

"pretty girl." he muttered to himself absently.

his friend asked, "what was that?"

max's eyes went wide for a moment, he said, "nothing, nothing! just thinking about what my girl is making for dinner tonight." he nervously scratched his face, "she's my pretty girl, right? sorry, mate, too deep in my thoughts."

his cock hurt, but his balls hurt more. he felt his heartbeat in his ears, which made it harder for him to focus on what his friends were saying.

"shit." he exhaled deeply, the sweat clung to his neck.

the orgasm crept up on him, he tried to split his attention. but primal need to climax down your pretty throat overtook his mind. he held back any lustful noises and coughed into the collar of his shirt as he came in your mouth.

you swallowed hastily and heard the slight noises that your boyfriend was making. you had fully broken him. he heard him cough through another moan as his cock grew soft in your mouth.

"hey mate." max said, his jaw tense. he could feel the blood in his face, "i have to go real quick, i'll talk to you soon, yeah?" and didn't wait for a response before he turned off his camera and left the discord call.

when he knew everything was off, he leaned back in his seat and covered his face with his hands. his heart was pounding as he felt you got up. soon the blanket that was covering your head was now covering both of yours.

you gave him a searing kiss and draped your arms around him. the kiss tasted salty and it made max's exposed cock twitch. you said in a sing-song voice, "i win!"

he groaned and looked at you, he could feel the what radiating off of you. he took the blanket off of you both and you and said, "please, whatever you do. just be gentle." <3

[buckets-and-trees]

Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays

Characters/Pairings: Bucky x curvy!female reader Word Count: 3.6k Summary: A first date with your neighbor Bucky Barnes.

Content Warnings: modern AU, smut, vaginal fingering, hand job, vaginal penetration, sex in a semi-public place

Logistical Notes: Another entry for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer Writing Challenge (drive in setting, dialogue prompt in bold/italics), a verrrrrry late entry for @bigtreefest Essie's Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration (public sex/trying not to get caught) (and shhh, Essie said I could be as late as December, but this is just/only Labor Day Weekend), and week 13 of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer (free week).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You didn’t want to watch this scary movie. Scary movies were not your thing.

But you didn’t know that the local drive-in movie place was doing Sweet and Slashy Summer Saturdays - a double feature night with a different rom-com and slasher fic every week when you said yes to your stupid hot neighbor Bucky Barnes. He’d asked if you liked drive in movies and if you’d go with him, and you hadn’t thought even a second before accepting.

Bumping into him throughout the building since you’d moved in last spring, sure, it was problematic to have a crush on a neighbor, but he was stupid hot.

Which made you do stupid things - like accept a date with him.

You canceled plans that you’d already had in favor of this date.

Typically you weren’t a fan of movies as a first date, but since it was a drive in, not a theater, you’d have your own space and not bother anyone if you actually wanted to talk - but if for some reason stupid hot Bucky Barnes turned out to be a dud, you would also be able to tune into the movie without seeming totally rude.

Privacy? Yes. Good.

A little bit of talking? Also yes.

He’d picked you up in his big pick up truck, which meant at the drive in, he’d backed into the spot, and now you were in the bed of the truck on a camp mattress and blankets.

Things had been lovely for the first flick - which turned out to be one of your favorites. The two of you had chatted sporadically but easily throughout. There’d been a short intermission where the two of you took a walk, stretched your legs, and gotten some ice cream from the concession stand.

All of that had been lovely. Easy time with him.

It had allowed you to trick yourself into the false confidence that you could handle the other half of the double feature.

But the slasher fic had you jumpy, scooting closer and closer into Bucky’s chest, until now you had your face permanently half hidden against his chest.

Bucky chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you chirped. 

“Are you sure? We can leave, I really don’t mind, I’ve see this at least twenty times.”

“No, I’m - I’m fine,” you said quietly. 

He murmured your name against the crown of your head, planting a kiss there. “We don’t have to stay.”

But that little kiss? Being tucked cozily against him? Your whole body was humming with butterflies and warmth despite the cool evening summer breeze flitting over your skin.

“I’m safe here,” you hummed. 

Bucky ticked a finger under your chin and lifted your head up to look him in the face, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You sure about that?”

You giggled - genuinely but with a surge of nerves. “You’ll protect me.”

He smirked. “Only from everyone else.”

“Is that a threat?” You arched a brow and smirked. 

“It’s a promise,” he replied, lowering his voice, ducking closer, his breath ghosting over your lips. 

You shivered, and he chuckled and pulled you closer. You laughed into his chest, resting your hand lightly on his sternum. “Honestly, if you ever become an actor, don't ever do a slasher flick.”

He scoffed. “What? Why’s that? I’m not such a terrible actor!”

You looked back up at him and shook your head. “I’m not convinced. But also, I’d have to go see it, and clearly I wouldn’t be able to handle that experience.”

“Fine, I promise, I’ll tell the non-existent agent for the acting career I’m never pursuing that slashers are off the table.”

“Good.”

Bucky shifted to make both of you more comfortable. As he shifted, his strong arm tightened around you, pulling you even closer against his broad chest. You felt the warmth of his body enveloping you, a stark contrast to the cool night air. His fingers began to trace lazy patterns on your shoulder, sending tingles down your spine.

"You know," Bucky murmured, his lips brushing your ear, "I'm really glad you came out with me tonight."

You tilted your head to look up at him, taking in his chiseled jawline and those piercing blue eyes. "Me too," you whispered.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time - just spend time with you. But now you’re driving me crazy, and I can’t keep my hands off you."

Your breath hitched as his hand slowly slid down your arm, savoring every curve and dip. “Then don’t,” you responded. You slipped your leg up over his thigh, tangling your limbs together.

His touch was gentle yet purposeful, exploring the softness of your skin. You felt your pulse quicken as his fingers ghosted over the swell of your hip, squeezing lightly.

"I love how you feel," he whispered, his voice husky. "So soft, so perfect."

His hand continued its journey, caressing the generous curve of your waist. You couldn't help but lean into his touch, craving more. Bucky's fingers splayed across your stomach, appreciating the plush roundness there.

"Beautiful," he breathed.

Bucky's fingers danced up your arm, caressing the soft skin. He traced the curve of your shoulder, then along your collarbone. His touch was feather-light but left a trail of heat in its wake.

You tilted your head back to look at him, taking in his chiseled jawline and intense blue eyes. Bucky's gaze roamed over your face, lingering on your full lips before meeting your eyes again. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb stroking your flushed skin.

"You're so beautiful," Bucky reiterated, his eyes locked on yours.

Your heart raced as he leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your face. Time seemed to slow as he closed the distance between you. His lips brushed yours softly at first, tentative and questioning. You responded eagerly, pressing closer and parting your lips slightly.

Bucky took that as invitation to deepen the kiss. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you flush against him. You melted into his embrace, savoring the feel of his firm body against yours.

The kiss grew more heated, tongues exploring as passion built between you. Your hands roamed over his broad shoulders and muscular back, marveling at the strength you felt there. Bucky's own hands weren't idle, caressing your curves with reverence.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. Bucky rested his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

"Wow," you whispered.

He chuckled softly. "Wow is right."

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air. You jumped, startled by the sound from the movie. Bucky chuckled against your lips, breaking the kiss.

"Sorry," you mumbled, feeling a heat creep up your neck.

"Don't be sorry," Bucky murmured, his thumb caressing your cheek. "I think it's cute how jumpy you are."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Glad my terror is entertaining for you."

He grinned, pulling you closer. "Well, I do enjoy being your protector."

Another scream rang out from the movie, making you flinch. Bucky's arms tightened around you instinctively. You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his warm, masculine scent. "I'm usually not this much of a scaredy-cat, I swear."

His chest rumbled with laughter. "Sure, sure. I believe you." His tone was teasing, but his arms stayed tight around you.

The score for the movie swelled and pursued a chilling tenor, making you tense. Bucky's hand came up to cup the back of your head, gently pressing your ear to his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat drowned out the sounds of the film.

"Better?" he murmured.

You nodded against him, feeling safer wrapped in his strong arms. "Much better."

His fingers combed through your hair soothingly. "You know, we could always make our own entertainment if the movie's too scary."

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, eyebrow raised. "Oh? What did you have in mind?"

Bucky's eyes darkened as they roamed over your face. "I can think of a few ways to distract you from the movie."

His hand slid down your back, coming to rest on your hip. He gave a gentle squeeze, pulling you against him. Your breath hitched as you felt the hard planes of his body pressed against your softer curves.

"Oh?" you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Like what?"

Instead of answering, Bucky dipped his head and captured your lips in a searing kiss. This wasn't like the earlier kiss - soft and exploratory. This was heat and passion and barely restrained desire. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting and teasing. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Bucky's hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, his calloused fingers tracing patterns on the sensitive skin of your lower back. You arched into him, craving more of his touch. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along your jaw and down your neck.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he murmured against your skin.

You tilted your head, giving him a quizzical look. This man you had categorized as stupid hot because he was so handsome it couldn’t be real seemed to be as gone for you as you were for him.

"I'm driving you crazy?" you asked, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You're the one who's been making me lose my mind for months now."

Bucky pulled back slightly, his blue eyes searching your face. "Really?" he asked, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

You nodded, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "Really. I've had a crush on you since the day I moved in. Why do you think I always seemed to be doing laundry at the same time as you?"

A slow grin spread across Bucky's face. "And here I thought I was the one making excuses to run into you."

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. "Looks like we've both been idiots."

"Well," Bucky murmured, leaning in close again, "then we should make up for lost time, don't you think?"

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, hot and demanding. You melted into the kiss, savoring the feel of his strong body against yours. His hands roamed your curves, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

You moaned softly into the kiss, your body arching against Bucky's. His hands roamed lower, cupping your ass and pulling you flush against him. You could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, sending a jolt of desire through you.

"Bucky," you gasped, breaking the kiss. "We're in public."

He chuckled, the sound low and husky. "Don't worry. No one can see us back here."

To prove his point, he rolled you both so you were lying on your back, his body hovering over yours. The truck's high sides and the darkness of the drive-in lot provided a surprising amount of privacy.

Bucky's lips found your neck again, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. You tilted your head, giving him better access as your hands slid under his shirt, exploring the hard planes of his abs.

"God, you feel amazing," you breathed.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. His hand slipped under your shirt, thumb brushing the underside of your breast. You arched into his touch, craving more.

Bucky's large hand cupped your breast, kneading gently through the thin fabric of your bra. You gasped at the sensation, your body heating up despite the cool night air.

Suddenly, a loud crash from the movie made you jump. Bucky chuckled softly, pulling back to look at you.

"Still scared?" he teased, his thumb brushing over your nipple through your bra.

You shivered, both from his touch and the reminder of where you were. "Maybe a little," you admitted.

Bucky's eyes softened as he gazed down at you. "We can stop if you want," he murmured, his hand stilling on your breast.

You shook your head, reaching up to cup his face. "No, I don't want to stop. I just... I've never done anything like this before. In public, I mean."

He smiled, turning his head to press a kiss to your palm. "We don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. We can just cuddle and watch the rest of the movie if you want."

You bit your lip, considering. The fear of getting caught was thrilling, but also nerve-wracking. But the way Bucky was looking at you, his blue eyes dark with desire, made you want to throw caution to the wind.

"I want you," you whispered, pulling him down for another kiss.

Bucky groaned into your mouth, his hand resuming its gentle kneading of your breast. You arched into his touch, your body humming with need. His other hand slid down your side, fingers teasing the waistband of your jeans.

"Is this okay?" he murmured against your lips.

“Mmhmm, please touch me, Bucky,” you pleaded, craving more.

Bucky's fingers deftly unbuttoned your jeans, sliding the zipper down slowly. His hand slipped inside, cupping you through your underwear. You gasped at the contact, hips bucking up into his touch.

"So responsive," he murmured, nipping at your earlobe. "I love it."

His fingers rubbed slow circles over your clothed center, building the tension coiling in your belly. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, very aware of your surroundings despite the privacy of the truck bed.

Bucky's lips trailed down your neck as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your underwear. You inhaled sharply as he made contact with your bare flesh, stroking through your folds.

"God, you're so wet already," he groaned against your collarbone.

You whimpered as he teased your entrance, gathering your arousal before circling your clit. Your hips rocked against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was building.

"Bucky, please," you breathed, not even sure what you were begging for.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss as he slid his fingers through your slick folds. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he slowly pushed one finger inside you.

"Shh," he murmured, kissing you softly. "Gotta be quiet, remember?"

You nodded, your breath coming in short pants as he began to move his finger in and out. He added a second finger, stretching you deliciously. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing small circles that had you seeing stars.

Your hands gripped Bucky's broad shoulders as he worked you closer to the edge. The pleasure was building rapidly, your hips rocking against his skilled fingers. You buried your face in his neck, muffling your whimpers and gasps against his skin.

"That's it, sweetheart," Bucky murmured encouragingly. "Let go for me. I've got you."

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl. Combined with the steady pressure on your clit, it was quickly becoming too much.

"Bucky," you gasped, your body tensing. "I'm -"

"Come for me," he growled softly, increasing the pace of his fingers.

The coil of tension in your belly snapped. Waves of pleasure crashed over you as your orgasm hit. Bucky captured your lips in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans as you shuddered against him.

As you came down from your high, Bucky slowly withdrew his hand. You whimpered at the loss, feeling oversensitive and boneless. He pressed soft kisses to your face as you caught your breath.

Then he licked your slickness off his fingers, and your breath hitched as he groaned at the taste of you. Your hand trailed down his chest, palming the obvious bulge in his jeans. "What about you?" you asked.

Bucky groaned softly, hips bucking into your touch. "You don't have to-"

You cut him off with a kiss, your hand continuing to rub him through his jeans. "I want to," you murmured against his lips. "Please, let me make you feel good too."

Bucky groaned, his hips rocking into your touch. "God, yes," he breathed.

Your fingers fumbled with his belt buckle, suddenly feeling clumsy with anticipation. Bucky chuckled softly, reaching down to help you. Together, you managed to unfasten his jeans and push them down his hips.

You slipped your hand into his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his hard length. Bucky hissed in pleasure, his head dropping to your shoulder. You stroked him slowly, marveling at how hot and thick he felt in your hand.

"Fuck," Bucky groaned softly. "Your hand feels so good."

Emboldened by his reaction, you increased your pace, twisting your wrist on the upstroke. Bucky's breathing grew ragged, his hips thrusting into your grip. You could feel him throbbing in your hand, growing even harder if that was possible.

"Wait," Bucky gasped, gently grasping your wrist. "Not like this. I want to be inside you."

Your breath caught at his words, desire pooling low in your belly. "Yes," you breathed. "Please, Bucky."

He captured your lips in a searing kiss as his hands worked to push your jeans down your hips. You lifted your hips to help, shimmying out of the tight denim. Bucky's fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs as well.

The cool night air hit your heated skin, making you shiver. Bucky's warm hands ran up your thighs, parting them gently. He settled between your legs, his hard length pressing against your core.

Bucky reached for his wallet. You raised an eyebrow as he retrieved a condom.

"Presumptuous, weren't we?" you teased.

He chuckled, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he tore it open. "More like hopeful. You sure about this?" he murmured, his blue eyes searching yours.

You nodded, reaching for the condom and wrapping your legs around his waist. "I'm sure. I want you, Bucky." You took his stiff cock in your hands and rolled the condom down slowly over his length.

Then you laid back, and he guided his tip to your entrance. He groaned softly, capturing your lips in another kiss as he slowly pushed into you. You gasped at the stretch, your body accommodating his impressive size.

Bucky stilled once he was fully seated inside you, giving you time to adjust. You both moaned softly at the sensation of being so intimately connected. He peppered kisses along your jaw and neck as you breathed through the initial stretch.

"You okay?" he murmured against your skin.

You nodded, running your hands down his muscular back. "Yeah, you can move."

Bucky started with slow, shallow thrusts, gradually building up speed and depth. You bit your lip to stifle your moans, very aware of your surroundings despite the privacy of the truck bed. The movie's soundtrack provided some cover, but you still tried to keep quiet.

"God, you feel amazing," Bucky groaned softly, his hips snapping against yours.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, changing the angle slightly. The new position had him hitting that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. Your nails dug into his shoulders as pleasure built rapidly.

"Bucky," you whined.

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers tracing a path down your stomach until they settled on your sensitive clit. The gentle pressure of his thumb against you sent sparks of pleasure through your body. "Come for me," he whispered in your ear, urging you on as he continued to stroke and tease your sex. You couldn't resist the sensations, and soon you were gasping and moaning in ecstasy, and he swallowed up as much of your sounds as he could with another kiss.

Bucky's movements became more erratic as he chased his own release. You clenched around him, still riding the waves of your orgasm. The added pressure pushed him over the edge.

"Fuck," he groaned, burying his face in your neck as he came.

You held him close, running your fingers through his hair as you both caught your breath. The sounds of the movie filtered back into your awareness - screams and dramatic music that seemed absurdly out of place now.

Bucky lifted his head, a lazy smile spreading across his face as he looked at you. "That was..."

"Amazing," you finished for him, grinning.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before carefully pulling out. You whimpered at the loss, suddenly feeling very exposed. Bucky noticed your discomfort and quickly helped you redress, then took care of himself.

Once you were both decent again, he pulled you back into his arms. You snuggled against his chest, feeling sated and content.

"So," Bucky murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm, "I think it's safe to say this was a successful first date?"

You grinned and looked up at him. "I'd say so. Though I'm not sure how we're going to top this for date number two."

Bucky chuckled, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I'm sure we can come up with something. I've got plenty of ideas."

"Is that so?" you teased, trailing your fingers along his jawline. "Care to share?"

He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "How about I show you instead? Say, next Saturday?"

Your heart fluttered at the promise in his eyes. “Just no more slashers, deal?”

“Deal,” he chuckled, then sealed it the best way, tipping your chin up and capturing your lips in a kiss.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Read more stories from the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend!

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[darlingdreadwrites]

I read your Toby fics, and I really love your writing:D

I see your open with requests and I wanted to ask a Toby x final girl reader?

They just kept fighting against him, and he somehow gained a crush on the person he is supposed to kill? It's fine if you don't ;D

I WAS SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS I SQUEALED WHEN I READ IT!! i hope i do right by you, my lovely anon.

pairing: Ticci Toby x Final Girl F!Reader

summary: Toby thought you'd be an easy target since you were just a girl. He should've gone with the easy kill when he had the chance.

contains: getting chased by a man wielding two hatchets, slight pov switches but it's still in second person, idk what else to put

warning: violence, gore (more like imagery is gore-y), MEAN TOBY, reader gets hurt, toby gets hurt, me not knowing how to write fight/tense scenes and the logistics that go with them, barely any talking cuz i think toby would be too embarrassed by his stutter

word count: 1.6k

masterlist

a.n: when i read final girl in the request, i pictured reader wearing those outfits that female japanese horror game protags wear (picture fatal frame). i’m gonna keep the end ambiguous for you because my freak brain wants it all to work out perfectly for them, but the other part of my brain wants to keep it realistic cuz there’s no way in HELL i’d let someone forcing me to run live. if you want me to continue where i left off i’d be so glad to (and you can pick whichever type of “route” you want). ENJOY!!

The cool, night air gave you chills all over as your feet pounded against the soft forest floor under your feet. With every quick step you took, another short burst of breath escaped your lips. It felt like you were being pushed back by a sudden gust of wind, but the trees continued to look blurry in the corners in your eyes, and that was a good thing. You kept your pace – even if it felt like the breeze kept poking needles into the cuts on your skin.

You had decided to actually dress up today but stayed mindful enough for the fall weather. So, you weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion. Maybe next time you decide you want to get attacked by some psycho swinging hatchets; you’ll be a little more fucking prepared. 

The whistling of said hatchet reminds you of why you were running. The sound of his weapon whirred by as it lodges itself deep into the bark of a tree. It’s already behind you as your mind yelled at your body to keep up. His other hatchet thwacks into a tree too close to your head and you scream involuntarily. You stumble to a stop stupidly, stabilize yourself, and drag your body to pivot and sprint to the right.

You weren’t sure how long you could keep going. But - as much as your lungs burned - that buzz that came from fighting for your life nagged at you like a bitch. You don’t care how much your body hurts because you will deal with the consequences later.

You’re not going to let yourself die.

Toby grunted as frustration and anger seethed in his veins. Wrapping his hands around the handle of his hatchet, he kept his eyes trained on you as he struggled to pull the thing free. He’d all but forgotten that the other one was a few feet away. He wasn’t normally fond of losing his favorite toys. He wouldn’t lose you either.

You were a stupid, stupid girl, after all.

His head violently twitched to the side compulsorily when he finally dislodged his weapon. A few wood chips flew out and landed on the muddy leaves below. He stood there, taking and letting out deep breaths.

He thinks about what might be going through your mind as you keep running. Maybe about how you were gonna get out of here, call the pigs, and have some nurse tend to the wounds he gave you. He smiled and tightened his grip on his hatchet as he fantasized about your naïve hope. He knew these woods like the back of his hand.

You wouldn’t make it out of here in one piece.

You slow down as the structure of a house comes into view. It fits the eerie atmosphere perfectly – chipping paint, broken windows. You’re not here to admire the neglected building, though, and you stomp up the small steps. The door lets out a low groan as you practically shove it open using your shoulder.

Slamming it behind you, your head whips around for the exit or some type of weapon. In the distance, you can hear the shrill whistle of the man outside, an involuntary thing, you’ve noticed. Just how long have you been fighting this freak? Enough to learn his quirks, that’s for sure. 

Delving deeper into the house with hurried steps, you look around for a kitchen. Find a weapon, find a weapon, you repeat to yourself, the sound of your quick gasps filling your ears. You catch yourself on the doorway when you almost rush past it.  

You barely stepped foot into the room before crying out when you felt something make impact with your back. The dull, heavy pressure sends painful shockwaves through you. Having the wind knocked out of you, the muscles in your back spasm and you buckle forward. He shoves you, and you wheeze as the edge of the rusted stove in front of you digs painfully into your stomach.

Your eyes immediately land on a cast iron skillet, and you think you have less than three seconds. You smash the pan against the side of his head, your grunt and the metal clang the only sounds in the room. You were confused as to why he wasn’t yelling out in pain. But your arms jerked upward, the heavy iron bludgeoning into his chin and he stumbles back.

Toby can hear the ringing in his ears with each blow to his head, his world spinning for far too long than he would’ve liked. He snarls and grabs your arm, throwing you in the direction of a wall hard - causing you to drop your makeshift weapon.

He looks at you, at how your legs shake as you try to steady the world around you. Look at you - you looked like a fawn. With your wide eyes and trembling form. Guess he’ll be your coyote, right? He’d sink his teeth into the side of your neck and stain his maw with your crimson flood. You were just pretty enough that he couldn’t wait to watch your eyes roll back when he greedily kept the air from inflating your lungs.

No, but you weren’t a fawn, were you? He’d seen more fight in you than any of the losers he was tasked to kill. They sobbed – they fucking begged on their hands and knees – to keep him from tearing them limb by limb. You were stronger than he thought you’d be, but you weren’t as agile as he was, he thought.

His face stretched as another wide, sinister grin spread across his face. His gloved hand tightened around the hatchet’s handle. He could hear the leather creak if he focused on anything other than your breathing.

You duck and stumble out of the way as you hear the spitting of wood above your head. He yells out a loud “fuck!” and attempts to yank the weapon free. You run out of the room and almost collide with another wall. You pivot on your heel because there was no way you’d run away from the front--

Gasping, you caught your balance before you could fall through the gaping hole on the floor. No time to jump, you told yourself, and you spun once again. Sprinting down the hall, you were met with the door to a room rather than any kind of exit.

You’d remember to set this house on fire when you made it out alive.

The room stunk of decaying carcasses and a thick powdery smell – the former outperforming the latter. You make your way to a second door and find yourself in a bathroom. You think there’s nothing here heavy enough to hurt him until your eyes land on a towel rod that hung loosely from the wall.

With a determined tug it comes out and you know he heard it. You can tell by the way you hear his heavy boots scramble in the direction of the room. You take a deep gulp of air and press your back against the wall next to the door.

The air was heavy with tension as the door creaked open. His shadowy figure stretched on the floor, and he walked right in. Would he turn around? Would he sense where you were before it was too late?

While he twisted around, you slam the rod into the side of his head. He’s disoriented for a moment, his head rolling to the side. Before he could react, you lifted your right leg, and the bottom of your shoe made contact with his stomach – sending him hurtling back.

Toby lets out a groan as he loses his balance and falls into a tub. His limbs sprawl out, legs and arms dangling from the sides. He attempts to move when a raw, guttural scream that causes his chest to tighten makes him stop. His eyes dilate as he stares at you wildly. Something about your scream has shaken him to his core. His head was still dizzy and a little numb from the force of your hit. And yet he couldn’t help but admire your resilience. He should be livid – breaking all your fingers and pulling your pretty little teeth out of your mouth one by one.

The man’s tics overtook him, his eyelids squeezed shut with a sudden intensity. He opens them again, and you’re still rooted in the same spot – breathing heavily. He’d never seen a girl look as hot as you did right now. He didn’t think that was even possible in your state. Your clothes, hair, and face were caked in mud and blood from your gashes. A girl like you should’ve been screaming in pain and crying for her mommy. But you stared at him with a burning defiance that caused his heart to pound violently against his chest.

His hatchet lay at your feet, and he realized that you had gotten him. You won. He could try attacking you again – he was bigger than you – but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He can’t fight back anymore; he just stares in what he can only assume is awe. Years of taking lives and witnessing more gore than anyone ever should, could not have prepared him for this moment. You didn’t stop – you just couldn’t. It was… admirable. Beautiful, even, if he was a more sentimental person.

You piqued his curiosity like nobody had ever done before. He wanted to know what made you tick. He wanted to study every movement, sound, and judgement you’d ever make. You could break all the bones in his body, and he’d come running back to watch you do it again when the Operator put him together again.

You astonished him.

So, what’ll you do now?

[kingkatsuki]

Don’t mind me— trying to get back into writing and having more delusional thoughts about Bakugou.

Going wedding dress shopping and Bakugou is gutted he can’t be there with you, even though he’s been reminded numerous times by his mother that it’s bad luck for him to see the bride in her dress before her wedding day.

“Didn’t your mum tell you not to call me today?” You grin when you recognise his caller ID.

“She would say that when she’s the one that gets to see you in every dress.” He replies, instantly hitting the button to change it to a video call, “I just wanted to see how you were gettin’ on, I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” You coo, “But it is bad luck.”

“It’s just a superstition,” He scoffs as you answer his FaceTime call inside the fitting room, smiling sheepishly at the assistant as you pan the phone up to ensure your fiance doesn’t get a glimpse of the dress, “How unlucky can I be if I’m marryin’ you anyway?”

“What if you see the dress and then decide not to marry me?” You tease, glancing at your reflection in the mirror as you look at yourself in the dress.

“Fuckin’ impossible,” Bakugou snorts, shaking his head as he frowns into the phone. Red eyes glaring from behind his Pro-Hero mask as he continues his patrol around the city, “You’re stuck with me for life now, woman.”

“I hope you’re still saying this when you see this dress—“ You tease, knowing that you’ll have to go out and show your wedding party soon. All of them probably sipping on their champagne and wondering why this dress is taking so long.

“This dress?” Bakugou’s ears perk up at the words, “Are you sayin’ that’s the dress, sweetheart?”

“Mmm maybe,” You tease back, interrupted by a knock at the door as Mitsuki’s voice sounds from the other side.

“Are you okay in there, darling?”

“I’m fine, Mitsuki.” You call back, “I’ll be out in a second.”

Turning your attention back to the phone you purse your lips into a pout to blow a kiss towards the screen, “I’m gonna show your mum now and then I’ll know.”

“Oh come on, baby. Don’t be a tease—” He groans, “Flash me. Just do it quick—”

“Katsuki!” You chastise, wide eyes now staring at the grinning fitting assistant, “Don’t say it like that— your mothers outside.”

“So? You’re gonna show her anyway.” A heat rises to your cheeks at the implication of his words, hoping that Mitsuki hasn’t heard as you move to hang up on him, “Come on baby, please. I need to see what I’m gonna fuck you in after the—”

“Katsuki!”

“Ain’t it better to work out the logistics now, sweetheart?”

[imaginespazzi]

This Little Love of Ours

Three times Paige and Azzi didn't go on a date and the one time they did

(In which an alternate universe writer finally returns to writing things in the real universe)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff and Angst

Words: 5.4K (sighs in *this was meant to be 2K* words)

TW: Light swearing, alludes to sexual content

A/N: Hi lovelies, I'm backkkk!! Gonna keep this short and sweet but this is basically me combining a bunch of prompts/requests into one. There's some creative liberty taken with logistics and as per usual, the editing exists but so do my typos. As always, let me know what you liked and what you didn't, as well as anything you'd like to see going foreward. Happy Juneteenth and I hope y'all have a lovely rest of your week <3

we were just kids (when we fell in love)

The streets of Minsk, Belarus are bursting with light and colour, the summer breeze enveloping the two girls walking riverside as they giggle over everything and nothing. They’re breaking curfew plus a hundred other rules right now and if one of their coaches ever found out, they’d be as good as dead. But there’s something about being out in the open with Azzi, being able to delicately brush palms and not worry about her jolting away in fear of being seen, that has Paige ready to be reckless. 

It’s been a year of learning Azzi, a year of discovering the little things that make her smile, a year of memorising the intricate stories that make her who she is. And Paige hides all these little details in a little treasure chest in the corner of her heart, bringing them out like little drops of lights when Azzi’s not by her side, and the darkness feels all-consuming. The thing is, Paige has never been attached to someone like this before, never felt like there was another half she needed to feel whole. She’d been an independent child, walls of steel barricading anyone from getting a glimpse into her vulnerability. For a long time, she’d been fine just living in the façade of being fine. But then she’d met Azzi. And all the walls had gone crashing down and it was okay not to be okay, because now while she held the weight of world, there was somebody there to hold her too. 

“Paigeeee,” Azzi squeals with delight, eyes fixated on a van across the road, “there’s an ice cream truck.”

Paige doesn’t get time to react before she’s being pulled along, the wind tornadoing around her body. And yet she feels warm and fuzzy inside, like there’s a blanket with Azzi’s name knitted into it, wrapped around her heart. 

“I’ll have the strawberry please,” Azzi smiles politely at the ice cream vendor, eyes sparkling with excitement, “P what are you getting?”

Paige grins, knowing her order is about to earn her a patented eye roll, “I’ll have the mint choc chip please.”

“You’re so weird,” the younger girl scrunches up her face and Paige suddenly has the urge to kiss her nose. 

They both know that they’re living inbetween blurred lines, on a trapeze balanced between friends and something more. It had been a whispered conversation of have you ever kissed a girl? do you wanna kiss a girl? do you wanna kiss me? that had led to a kiss Paige swears can never be topped, but they hadn’t spoken about it again. With them living in separate states, it had been easy to ignore that, that had ever even happened, both of them skilled players at the game of pretend. But it’s different now they’re back in each other’s orbit and every touch seems to linger on Paige’s skin long after Azzi’s hands have left her own. 

“You have no taste. It’s sooooo good,” Paige chides, making a show of licking her ice cream. When she looks at Azzi, she’s not expecting the way the shooting guard’s eyes have glazed over, fixated on Paige’s lips as she swallows nervously. An unfamiliar shiver tickles down Paige’s skin as they stand in silence, the air thick with a new tension. 

“It’s green,” Azzi says finally, voice coming out breathless, “that’s enough for me to know it tastes bad.”

“Don’t knock it til you taste it,” the blond holds out her cone as an invitation. 

When Azzi steps into Paige space, much closer than needed, she’s expecting Azzi to take the cone. She’s expecting that familiar jolt of electricity when their hands accidentally brush. Instead she feels herself being  mesmerised by Azzi’s face getting closer and closer til she can feel the younger girl’s breath fanning her face. She gulps, as Azzi presses her lips to the corner of Paige’s mouth, tongue darting out for the briefest of seconds before she’s pulling away. And despite the cool of the ice cream, every part of Paige feels like it’s burning. 

“I was wrong. Guess it tastes pretty good,” Azzi whispers, biting her lip. 

“You-I-what-” Paige splutters, struggling to form a coherent thought. 

Azzi giggles, clearly proud of herself  “Paige Bueckers speechless? Who thought I’d ever see the day?”

“You’re a fucking menace.”

“And proud of it.”

There’s the clichéd spring in Paige’s step as they continue to walk by the river. She shifts her ice cream cone to her left hand, letting the other one entangle with Azzi’s fingers. It’s nothing, the most mundane of things to hold her best friend’s hand, but it feels exhilarating, like it’s the start of something special. Determined, she tugs on Azzi’s hand to pull them to a stop. The Minsk waterfront dazzles behind them but Paige swears nothing’s glowing brighter than two of them in this moment. 

“Why are we stopping?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised quizzically. 

Paige smirks, a new surge of confidence taking birth in her stomach, “I wanted to try your ice cream too. You got a taste of mine, it’s only fair I get a taste of yours.” 

“Is that so?” Azzi hums, pressing herself against Paige, “too bad it seems like I’ve finished my cone then.”

“Yeah too fucking bad,” Paige agrees before crashing her lips against Azzi’s. 

***

Paige is exhausted at breakfast the next morning, barely registering the conversations that are buzzing around her. Her eyes are drooping from the lack of sleep and there’s a dull pounding in her head but she has no regrets. Last night had been everything. She can still feel every moment pulsating through her veins, her heart beating to the rhythm of Azzi Azzi Azzi. The younger girl hasn’t appeared for breakfast yet and Paige is itching to see her. They’ve been separated for barely a couple of hours, reluctantly heading to their own rooms after they’d gotten back, and Paige swears she’d missed the girl even in her sleep. 

“You got back late last night,” Cameron teases, sticking out a fork of fruit in Paige’s direction, “you two must have had a good time.”

“Yeah,” there’s a rare shyness in Paige’s tone, “yeah we had a great time.”

“Oooh are we talking about Paige and Azzi’s date last night?” Aliyah cuts in, a smirk playing on her lips. 

“It wasn’t a date,” Paige counters, suddenly feeling oddly defensive “it- it was nothing.”

Cam raises an eyebrow, “it seemed like a date.” 

“Well it wasn’t. It definitely was not a date.”

“You guys heard her,” Azzi's voice makes Paige freeze, something akin to guilt pooling in her stomach, “it definitely was not a date.”

Cam and Aaliyah raise their hands in surrender, turning back to whatever conversation they were engaged in before. Paige gulps as Azzi sits down in the empty spot next to her, body rigid. 

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Paige it’s fine. I get it.”

“You- you do?” Paige doesn't entirely know how Azzi can get it, not when Paige doesn’t even really get it herself. 

Azzi shrugs with fake nonchalance, “yeah, yeah I do and it’s okay. You’re right. It wasn’t a date.”

And it wasn’t. At least not by name. Paige knows that. Apparently Azzi knows it too. But everything about that feels wrong. Underneath the table, their hands intertwine subconsciously. Neither of them react. Neither of them pull away. It’s the start of something unspoken, something complicated, something beautiful and fragile and so, so volatile, something that’ll take them years to understand.

2. this all or nothing way of loving (got me sleeping without you)

paige bueckers has posted a new story to her close friends 

Azzi fights the twitch in her hand that wants to reach out and grab her phone when that notification flashes on her screen. She musters up another fake smile at her date, hoping the girl in front of her hasn’t noticed the change in her demeanour. It’s ridiculous the way her body reacts to the most simple things when it comes to Paige. She hates it, hates the way it seems like she has no control over herself when it comes to the blonde. 

“Do you need to get that?” Anika asks, voice sweet as honey as she smiles at Azzi 

“No, no it’s just an insta notification. Nothing important. You were saying,” Azzi brushes it off, trying to keep her voice nonchalant. Anika seems satisfied with that as she returns back to telling Azzi about something her sister had done. Fidgeting in her seat, Azzi tries her hardest to keep her focus on the brunette, but her mind is whirring with curiosity about what Paige might have posted. 

The opportunity presents itself a couple of minutes laters, when Anika slides out of her seat to go to the bathroom. It’s a little embarrassing how quickly Azzi beelines for her phone, clicking on Paige’s story and immediately wishing she hadn’t. Anger and jealousy tighten their grip on her as she’s met with a picture of a caramel skinned, curly haired girl smiling at the camera, staring at Paige behind it, with that oh so familiar look of adoration. The text on the image reads in good company and Azzi feels bile rising up her throat. And she’s not allowed to feel this way, not when she and Paige had both agreed to turn their something into nothing but every day since that decision has felt a little bit like someone twisting a dagger into her heart, piercing further and further until she has no more blood left to bleed. 

She doesn’t notice Anika’s made her way back until she feels a warm hand on her shoulder, looking up to find concerned green eyes staring down at her, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” Azzi nods with a sense of calm she doesn’t feel, “you okay with me showing you off a bit?”

It’s a dangerous game she’s about to play, one of jealous retaliation that she knows will only make her feel better for a brief second before all the pain will flood back. But she reaches for her phone anyways, fighting the voices of logic and reason (that sound oddly similar to Colleen) in her head and instead giving into impulse. Anika beams at the camera, throwing up a peace sign, and Azzi’s heart stutters with guilt at how sincere her smile is. She snaps the picture, captioning it with  date night <3 and clicks post to close friends. Her heart beats erratically as she places her phone back on the table, trying to tune back into Anika’s conversation. It takes approximately three minutes for her phone to flash again.

paige bueckers has posted a new story to her close friends 

This time Azzi doesn’t bother fighting the urge to look, a new adrenaline pumping through her veins. It’s a mirror selfie this time. The girl has her back pressed against Paige’s front as they pose in front of the bathroom mirror. Paige has one hand holding her phone while the other is sprawled against the other girl’s waist, where a silver belly button piercing shimmers against tan skin. There’s no text this time, just a red heart and that Paige-shaped hole in Azzi’s heart is starting to get larger and larger. 

“You wanna take a walk?” Azzi asks Anika, tearing her eyes away from the phone, “it’s nice outside.”

Anika smiles, rising from her seat and holding out a hand that Azzi gladly takes. It would be easier, Azzi thinks, if she could just fall in love with this girl. Someone less complicated, someone who had less power over her, someone who was here. But it’s a futile dream, her heart is spoken for and Azzi doesn’t think she’ll ever get it back. 

It's a beautiful winter night outside and there’s a pretty girl holding her hand. That’s all Azzi should be thinking about. Instead, her mind is stuck on the image from before and it’s that vision, welded behind her eyelids, that has her taking a picture of her and Anika’s intertwined hands. As she types out the caption, one that feels way too deep for a first date, Azzi can’t help but roll her eyes at herself. She can’t remember the last time she’d posted a story, let alone two in a row and now here she is, posting inauthentic story after story to win a losing game. 

paige bueckers has posted a new story to her close friends 

This time there’s at least 10 minutes before Azzi’s phone flashes with that notification again. Next to Azzi, Anika lets out a sigh, starting to become less amiable to the idea of her date constantly checking her phone. Azzi shoots her an apologetic look before her expression quickly turns stone cold at seeing the new picture. It’s a haphazardly taken, slightly pixelated, photo of Paige smiling and the girl kissing her cheek. And if Azzi was in any mood to analyse just a little further she’d notice that Paige’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, isn’t quite as wide as her real one. But there’s green fog clouding her judgement as she seethes internally, Anika’s soft touch doing nothing to calm her down. Tapping on Paige’s profile, Azzi fingers hover over the three dots on the upper left, as her petty side begins to take over. 

And then she hits block. 

***

“How was your date?” Paige’s mocking voice rings throughout Azzi’s childhood bedroom at almost 2 in the morning. She shouldn’t have answered the facetime call, should’ve held out for longer than just three missed calls and twelve angry texts. But Azzi has long realised that she’s putty when it comes to Paige. 

“How’s your girlfriend,” Azzi bites back. 

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Right,” Azzi draws out the word with an eyeroll, “how’s your fuck buddy then?”

Paige closes her eyes, rubbing her temples. When she opens them, the angry hard-to-read Paige that she’s been dealing with for the last month is replaced by Azzi’s soft, sweet and vulnerable Paige. Being apart after having been together all through lockdown has been harder than either of them could have imagined. They’d just assumed it would be easy when Paige finally left for UConn, after all most of their relationship had been built while living in different states. But somewhere in between workouts at 6 am and movie nights with Azzi’s family, they’d gotten used to living in each other’s skin, forgetting just how difficult it was to be apart from each other.  

“I miss you,” Paige whispers, “all the time. I can’t wait til you’re here.”

I miss you too, so much that sometimes it’s the only thing I feel, Azzi thinks and really it’s what she should say, instead the bitterness wins out, “why? So I can see you and that girl being all coupley in person instead of just on instagram?”

“That’s not fair, Azzi. You said you wanted to be just friends for now. You said I should try with other people and now you wanna throw that back in my face?”

“It was mutual-”

“Bullshit,” Paige sneers, “don’t try and put that shit on me. You made the decision and I just went along with it.”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have then,” Azzi says exasperatedly, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep tears threatening to fall at bay. They fall into silence, staring at each other through the screen with identical expressions of only you can hurt me, only you can heal me. Azzi wishes she could reach through her phone, pull Paige into her world and melt into the older girl.

“What do you want from me Az?” Paige asks softly. 

I just want you, Azzi thinks miserably. She wants to be beg Paige to end things with that other girl, wants Paige to tell her not go on anymore dates, want to go back to being something, but she can’t, not when she’s convinced herself that they need do this, go through a phase of being nothing, so that they can be everything someday. This whole idea had taken birth in her head out of the fear that this- the two of them not knowing anything but each other- would eventually lead to resentment, that they- that Paige- would wake up one day and realise there was so much more the world had to offer. So now Azzi’s playing the long game, trying to believe in the clichéd year old adage that you have to let the people you love go, and if they come back, they’re yours. And she hopes against hope that Paige will come back, because Azzi doesn't think she’ll survive anything else. 

“I’m sorry,” Azzi whispers, instead of voice the other thoughts dancing on the tip of her tongue, “I’m sorry I’m being unfair.”

Paige’s eyes soften, “can we just- can we just talk about something else?”

And they do. They talk all night about everything and nothing, falling asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing. It’s that same nightly routine neither of them can fall asleep without. Because even if they’re both drowning in a sea of unspoken words, at least they’re sinking together, perhaps there’s some comfort in that. 

3. you make me smile (please stay for a while now)

Azzi stares at her reflection in the mirror for what feels like the thousandth time. She’s a bundle of nervous energy as she pats down her neatly ironed mini-skirt, adjusting her already perfectly-set crop top. It’s a little bit like how she feels before stepping on the court, dizzy with both nerves and excitement in anticipation. By all technicalities, this isn’t their first date. There’s probably friends and family who would argue this is closer to be their millionth or so date but nothing has ever been official. It just means more. 

She jumps a little when the doorbell rings at exactly 7 p.m. sharp, taking in a deep breath, before she opens the door. Paige stands outside in black pants with a black crop top and a multicolor cardigan, and a bouquet of pink roses in her hands. It takes Azzi about two seconds to realise that something’s wrong. Paige’s eyes are a feverish red and her smile is tired; it’s her all too familiar Paige is sick demeanour that Azzi’s quick to recognize after years of having seen it. The blonde opens her mouth to say something and instead all that comes out is a series of loud sneezes. 

“Oh baby,” Azzi gives her a sympathetic smile, reaching out to feel Paige’s forehead and then narrowing her head when she feels the heat, “P-”

“I’m fine,” Paige cuts her off, her voice gravelly, “just allergies.”

Azzi crosses her arms, knowing she’s about to deal with a petulant child, “I don’t think so. You’re clearly sick.”

“I don’t-,” Paige tries to disguise the cough in between her sentences, “-get sick.”

“Sure you don’t,” Azzi nods, as she tugs Paige inside, grabbing the flowers and setting them aside. Paige lets out grunts of protest, but her body is clearly too tired to fight back as Azzi guides them into her room. She goes into her closet first, finding an oversized shirt for Paige to change into. 

“You know the getting undressed part comes after the date right?” Paige raises an eyebrow, practically glaring at the t-shirt 

“We’re not going on a date.”

“WHAT? Dude I’m fine. I have a reservation and everything,” Paige whines in between coughs as she watches Azzi rummage through her drawers for medication, “it’s our first date. I had plans.”

“I’m not going on a date with you looking all snotty and congested like that.”

Azzi suppresses a laugh at Paige’s offended sequel, “what happened to sickness and health?”

“Pretty sure that’s a marriage thing,” she hands Paige the pills and a glass of water, that the older girl obediently takes.

“Well we’re eventually gonna get married so you need to get used to that,” it’s said so casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but it steals Azzi’s breath away, the words carving themselves into the walls of her heart. Sometimes she wonders if Paige understands the gravity of the things she says, understands how they make every part of Azzi come alive with hope for their future. She shies away from a smirking Paige, trying to hide the blush that’s creeping up her neck. 

“Just- just get changed,” she manages to stutter out. 

“I,” sneeze, “don’t,” cough, “want” sneeze, “to.”

“Paige.”

“Azzi.”

“You have to get better P or coach will kill us both if you end up missing practice.”

“Going on a date with you would make me feel better.”

“Okay,” Azzi sighs, realising she needs to change tactics, “we’ll make a compromise. You’re gonna change-” she raises a hand when Paige tries to interrupt, “you’re gonna change and lie down, and if you don’t fall asleep in the next 10 minutes, we’ll go on the date.”

Paige’s eyebrows furrow in concentration as she mulls it over, before a scheming glint appears in her eyes, “okay but on one condition,” her grabby hands reach for Azzi’s waist, a soft smile playing on her chapped lips, “you have to lie down with me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes fondly, letting the blonde pull her into her arms, her own hands encircling Paige’s back as the older girl snuggles into her neck with a content sigh. This is her happy place. In any room, anywhere, as long as she’s cocooned in Paige’s embrace, there’s a sense of serenity that seems to flood into Azzi’s veins. 

“I could fall asleep here,” Paige murmurs, hot breath fanning against Azzi’s collarbone, “you’re so comfortable.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to physically manoeuvre Paige onto the bed which only elicits a smirk against her skin. 

“If you wanted me in your bed Az, you could have just asked,” the older girl wiggles her eyebrows, earning her a small push from Azzi as Paige drags them both down into a mess of limbs and pillows. Cerulean blue eyes stare up at Azzi, a little bloodshot from the impending fever, but still blisteringly brilliant with love. It scares Azzi sometimes, to see all that emotion swimming in Paige’s eyes, all for her and it scares her even more to know that same pool of you’re it for me is reflected in her own too. Sometimes she worries they’re too young for this, too young to feel so much but then Paige smiles, and all of Azzi’s doubt flies away as she lets herself believe in forever. 

***

Paige doesn’t even really make it past five minutes, her sick body giving into the tiredness as she cuddles into Azzi, arms splayed over the younger girl's torso, as she keeps her head buried in her shoulder. There’s a content smile on her face as Azzi continues to run her hands through silky blond hair, brushing out tiny knots and waiting a couple of minutes, before she detaches herself from her girlfriend and heads to the kitchen. She’s not the greatest of chefs, but she’d like to think she’s skilled enough to try and make something that at least resembles chicken noodle soup. 

Azzi’s almost done when she feels a blanket being wrapped around her, two arms coming to wrap around her waist as she feels the weight of Paige’s chest pressed against her back, the older girl's head coming to rest in the crook of Azzi’s neck. 

“You’re already awake,” Azzi whispers, leaning her head back so she can brush her lips against Paige’s temple. 

Paige grunts, her voice nasally when she speaks, “you left and I was cold.”

“I have like three blankets on my bed you could’ve used.”

“Don’t wanna use blankets. Wanna use you,” Paige whispers, pressing a kiss to Azzi’s neck, making the younger girl shiver, “you’re much warmer.”

“Go pick out a movie to watch, I’m almost done with this.”

She can’t see it but Azzi can practically feel Paige’s raised eyebrows, as she dramatically sniffs the air, “you cooked? Babe I’m already sick, are you trying to get me sicker?”

“Wow. I slave over the kitchen for you for hours-”

“Maybe half-”

“HOURS! And you have the audacity to question my cooking when all you can make is buffalo chicken dip?”

“Hey, you love my buffalo chicken dip.”

“You keep telling yourself that baby.”

“It’s not nice to be  mean to your sick girlfriend,” Paige snickers as she makes her way to the couch in  Azzi’s room. 

“So you admit you’re sick then?” 

“Only sick to my stomach at whatever you’re gonna feed me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, pouring the soup into a bowl. She secretly loves when they get like this. It’s a reminder that no matter what other label they eventually put on their relationship, Paige will always be her best friend first. As soon as Azzi sits down on the couch, Paige is all over her, knowing exactly how to shrink her body so that all 6’0 of her fits perfectly on her girlfriend’s lap. This is Azzi’s favourite version of Paige really, the soft vulnerable babygirl that’s only for Azzi’s eyes, a far cry from the ultimate rizzler the rest of the world sees.

“Feed me,” Paige pouts and Azzi shakes her head fondly but does as she’s asked, holding a spoonful of chicken noodle soup in front of Paige’s mouth.

“Thought you were scared of my cooking?”

“Oh I am but the things we do for love,” the blonde says dramatically before letting Azzi feed her, “huh, that’s not half bad baby.”

“High compliments,” Azzi says mock-seriously, as she tries her own spoonful, “oh I kinda ate that.”

They both dissolve into giggles at that, falling into a comfortable conversation as Azzi takes turns feeding both herself and Paige, the dull rumbling of some random movie behind them. 

“You’re always taking care of me,” Paige says softly after a while, hand caressing Azzi’s left arm as she lies against her chest, feeling her heartbeat underneath her fingertips. 

“Someone has to,” Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s hair, “you take care of everyone else and I take care of you.”

“Sorry I ruined our date but trust, I’mma make it up to you,” Paige mumbles sleepily, digging herself further into Azzi’s arms if that’s even possible. 

“I’m sure you will baby.”

“I love you.”

“Love you more P.”

And if in two days, Azzi’s the one that’s sick and Paige’s attempt at making chicken noodle soup goes even worse, well, let’s just say it’s a good thing they have NIL deals and can afford a chef in the future.

4. me i fall in love with you every single day (and i just wanna tell you i am)

“Where are you taking me?” Azzi giggles, hands outstretched as she tries to navigate the path in front of her, despite being blindfolded. The salty sea air brushes through her hair, as she places one foot in front of another, letting Paige’s hands on her waist guide her across the cruise ship. 

“Be patient, we’re almost there,” Paige whispers against her ear, nervous anticipation building in her stomach. She’s been planning this night from the moment they’d booked the cruise tickets, wanting everything to be as near to perfect as possible. The thing is, they’ve been on plenty of dates, some even before they’d officially started calling them dates. But most of those dates have had to be carefully constructed away from prying eyes, their hands itching to hold the others but forced to dangle by their sides so they could keep up a façade in public, that this was just friends hanging out. The cruise is the perfect spot for a private date, one where Paige wouldn’t have to keep her hands to herself, not that she’s done a good job of that the whole trip anyway. But she’s found the perfect secret spot and spent just a little bit of money, to make sure the other cruise goers wouldn’t bother them tonight. 

“Are we there yet?” Azzi whines and Paige can’t help but laugh, finally pulling them to a stop.

“So impatient,” she tuts as she finally pulls away Azzi’s satin pink blindfold. 

“Yes well I’m star-oh…” Azzi blinks, eyes adjusting to the light as they flitter over her surroundings, the words being stolen from her lips as an awed look takes over her features, “Paige.”

“You like?” Paige bites her lips nervously.

“Do I like? Baby, this is beautiful,” tears sparkle in Azzi’s eyes as she loops her arms around Paige’s neck, “it’s perfect.”

They’re standing on the bow of the cruise ship. In the distance, the island they’re docked at, is illuminated by lights, making it shimmer against the dark night sky. A table for two sits at the helm of the ship, adorned in a purple velvet table cloth. There are candles and pink and white rose petals scattered all across the floor, with a small path carved out in between so they can walk to the table. On the table, there’s a customised crystal centrepiece with their names carved into it and inside it is a bouquet made of pictures of them. It’s a little cliché really, especially for two people whose path to each other had been anything but traditional but all Paige has ever wished for is a moment of normalcy with Azzi, a moment where they’re not star players, just two girls in love, enjoying a typical date night, a moment where they’re just PaigeAndAzzi. 

“When did you even have time to plan all of this?” Azzi marvels out loud, as Paige pulls out a chair for her. 

“I have my ways,” the blonde says with a smirk, taking a seat opposite her girlfriend and reaching to entwine their hands together. 

“You didn’t have to do this P.”

Paige shrugs, “I wanted to. We deserve this.”

Azzi nods, squeezing Paige’s hand because god knows they do deserve this. It’s been a hellish year if they’re honest. The highs had been wonderful but the lows, god the lows had felt like the ground being pulled from beneath their feet as they gripped each other, holding onto the only thing in their lives that felt like a reprieve from the darkness that swirled around them. And really that’s it Paige thinks, life can throw whatever it wants at her, but as long as she has Azzi, she’ll learn to survive it. 

“You wanna dance?” Paige asks, when they’ve finally finished eating, somehow managing to find a way to hold hands throughout the whole three course meal. As if on cue, a violin quartet appears onto the deck, and Azzi laughs at the coincidence. It’s Paige’s favourite sound in the whole wide world. 

“You’re such a sap,” Azzi teases fondly as she lets Paige lead them onto the floor, “how many romcoms did you watch to come up with this whole thing?”

“Dude, are you doubting my abilities to come up with a perfect date?”

“I would never,” Azzi swears, leaning her cheek against Paige’s, “but seriously Bueckers, you’ve outdone yourself.”

The melody of “thinking out loud” on the violin with the light thrum of the sounds of the wind and the ocean, creates the perfect orchestra for them to sway to, as they press every inch of themselves into each other, trying to lose themselves in the other’s arm. That feeling of home, a resounding peace, echoes throughout Paige’s skull and she thinks if there was ever a memory she’d want to replay over and over again, it would be this one. 

“I’m gonna miss this,” Paige whispers, “being with you like this?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“No I know- I just- I like being able to be us in public like we have this last week. I like not pretending.”

“What if-,” Azzi pulls back a little, eyes locking with Paige’s, “what if we didn’t pretend?”

Paige searches for a shred of hesitance in Azzi’s face, but finds nothing but complete resoluteness and a grin breaks out on her own face, “what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that even if we don’t say anything, maybe we don’t have to try and hide everything all the time either. I’m saying,” Azzi bites her lips, shyly smiling, “if you wanna hold my hand when we’re in public sometimes, you- you can if- if you want to.”

“I really, really, really want to,” Paige breathes against the brunette’s lips, hands rubbing circles against her waist. 

“Good,” Azzi whispers back, “because I really, really, really want you to.”