#the ground is level at the foot of the cross

[chrattho1]

dilf!chris x nanny!reader

"you listening?"....setting up ava's room together.

“dada?” ava looked up at chris, her big brown eyes impatiently staring at her father’s broad frame as he scanned around the room, his eyes darting over the empty spots with a small frown.

“yeah princess?” his attention still divided from his three year old, trying to figure out how the fuck is he going to get this room set up all on his own.

“can we add rainbows and—and kittens?” ava lisped through her words, little hands held up in the air signalling where she wants the stickers to be stuck on the pink walls.

“ofcourse sweetheart, go grab my phone will ya?” his voice soft when he kneels down to his daughter’s tiny figure. he is restless, he has rung you up twice now and you haven’t picked up or left him a message yet, its not at all like you to ignore his calls.

“okay!” ava frolics across the room, her shoes put on the other way around, left shoe on the right foot and vice versa—squeaking on the floor. the messy pigtails chris tried to tie her hair into fall down even more with her uneven stride towards the living room.

chris sighs looking around the blindingly pink room.

“fuck..” he whispers in frustration, as much as people would think he’s lacking as a single father to his daughter, he takes it very seriously.

from the littlest things ever, he makes sure ava doesn’t feel the need to remind him or ask him twice.

just when chris almost panics looking around the room, he heard the main door creak open followed by ava’s soft giggles, and he knows exactly who it is.

“missed me?” he heard you speak to ava.

he makes his way out of the room, leaning against the door frame with his hands crossed over his chest.

“well look who finally decided to show up” he teases, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth watching you as you bent down at ava’s level and talk to her.

your eyes snap to chris’s figure standing across. his tall, broad frame, his hair disheveled, under eye bags extending down his face, god he’s so fine. a smile forms onto your lips at his comment.

you pick ava up in your arms, tucking stray hair strands away from her face as you walk past chris into the room hes been fussing over.

“y’know last year of uni is beating my ass, give me a break” you huff playfully as you take in the empty room.

“yeah, yeah whatever” chris shrugs, trying to hide the smile creeping up on his face.

he makes his way towards you, now stood right beside as you both look around the dull yet very bright space.

“we gonna add stickers!” ava breaks the silence in your arms, looking up at you with glimmering eyes.

“are we now?” you ask and ava nods enthusiastically.

chris turns to you, his unusually soften features telling you he needs your help.

you settle ava down on the ground, holding out a hand for her to hold onto.

“think we should start with the bed first?” chris asked, his eyes narrowing.

you nod in response, going over to grab the new sheets that seem to be in a packet still.

“that goes the other way around” a few moments later chris is grabbing the sheets from your comparatively small hands, shifting the sheets and giving it back to you, his fingers lingering over your palm longer than intended.

you watch him make his way to the other side of the bed, clutching the ends of the sheet and open it up.

ava is sitting on the living room couch, watching something on the tv peacefully, not batting an eye over at the efforts these two put into setting up her bedroom. she really is a princess.

you watch chris tuck the sheets into the corners of the bed with ease, lifting the mattress just enough to slide the sheets in and tuck them in. his arms at work flexing up, showing off the barely any workout he does during his free time.

you take a small gulp, shaking your head just slightly to shake the those thoughts off your mind. this is why you hated being around him, always so distracting.

but it wasn’t until a few minutes later, chris stood across the room facing you, talking about how something looks “off”, he raises his hands up to stretch them above his head, his white tank sliding up with his shoulders, his v-line on full show.

you quickly bring your eyes up to his again, noticing a glint of mischief in them, he’s suddenly stopped talking.

“you listening?” one of the corners of his mouth tugs up, smirking.

“yeah?” you try to act chill, but the gradual rise and fall of your chest gives it away. gives you away.

chris simply shakes his head tilting it down to the floor with a gruff chuckle passing through his lips.

your heart races, pounding loudly within your rib cage. watching him walk towards the wall you’re leaning against.

he stops just at the distance where your heavy breathing hits his face, his eyes scan over your features. that fuckass smirk never leaving his face.

“help me with stickers next?” he raises an eyebrow, clearly teasing you now. he knows the effect he has on you, and he loves taking advantage of it.

you let out a small sigh, straightening up from the wall and nodding in response.

he walks backwards with the smirk still plastered on his face, his eyes never leaving you as he picks up the target plastic bag up, dumping it on the floor. displaying all the different kinds of stickers he had bought for decoration.

you walk towards him and grab a few, looking around the room you both discuss where the stickers should go.

once that was discussed, chris was on the other side of the room—sticking up stickers on the walls and you were doing the same just on the opposite side.

after a few minutes of silence and working, you speak.

“chris?” your hand stretched above your head on the wall, trying to reach a spot that your hand clearly can’t reach.

chris looks over at you and a grin follows right after he realises what he’s looking at.

“can’t reach?” he asked rhetorically, walking over to you.

“yeah, can you just stick this one—” you were cut off by your own gasp, when chris’s strong hands wrapped around your legs pushing you up his shoulder.

you look down at him with furrowed brows and he’s already looking up at you with a playful smile, he wiggles his eyebrows to signal you to stick the sticker up.

“go ahead, stick it” he nudges his head.

you stretch your hand up and stick the rainbow up right where it needs to be stuck.

chris puts you down like it is the easiest thing ever, not even letting out a huff of breath after.

you watch make him way to where he first was, like nothing happened.

another hour passes by and you both seem to be done with the room. ava’s crashed out on the couch, the tv light gleaming on her small face.

“be here tomorrow?” chris asked watching you grab your bag indicating your departure.

“y’know i wasn’t supposed to come in today right?” you raised an eyebrow, testing him playfully.

“like i’d call you and your ass wont show up?” chris chuckles, knowing that all it takes for you to leave everything is one call from him. its kinda pathetic really, but he loves it.

you scoff, rolling your eyes at him.

“don’t give me that, i’ll see you tomorrow kay?” you watch him speak to you as he makes his way to ava on the couch, you mumble an “okay” before turning onto your heels towards the main door.

once you get into you car, you let out a long sigh. dropping your head on the wheel, you try to collect your thoughts.

you pull yourself up to start the car when your eyes land on your bag that you just placed down on your passenger seat, something pink and glittery shining off of it.

you bring the bag closer to see what it is, it is a sticker. a sticker that reads “good girl” in an obnoxious font, and loud color. it ruins the entire look of your bag but you can’t help but smile, feeling your stomach turn.

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[bennyboyfics]

Would love to see model!reader who is high maintenance and acting up when Ben is practicing and he’s not having it 🤭

Diva || Ben Shelton x model!reader

A/n: hahah I love this!!!

Wc: 866

Warnings: none just r being a diva 😂

MASTERLIST

-

The sun was absolutely relentless—high in the sky, merciless, baking down on everything and everyone without even the courtesy of a breeze. You were seated on a flimsy folding chair courtside, legs crossed at the knees like you were on a Paris runway instead of sweating through your designer tank top at a tennis facility in Florida.

Your sunglasses—oversized and expensive—shielded your eyes, but even they couldn’t hide the glare etched into your face. Your arms were folded tight across your chest, the glossy nude manicure tapping impatiently on your forearm. “Ugh,” you groaned, dragging the word out like it personally offended you.

“Ben, I swear, if I knew it was going to be this hot, I never would’ve come. This is actual hell. Like, I think I’m melting. My hair is frizzing. And my feet—oh my God—my feet are killing me. Why did I wear these shoes?” Your voice pitched into a whiny register, and you uncrossed your legs just to recross them dramatically, toe of your Chanel sandal dangling from your foot like it was about to give up too.

The straps were digging into your skin, leaving faint red marks, which you immediately pointed out to Ben with a sharp flick of your perfectly manicured finger. He was standing nearby, towel slung around his neck, a water bottle in hand, sweat dotting his forehead and chest. He looked like an ad for Gatorade, toned and flushed, practically glowing.

You looked like you’d been dropped into a war zone by mistake. Ben didn’t say anything at first—just blinked at you, then slowly looked you up and down, jaw tightening slightly. Then he huffed a laugh, but it was dry, clearly unimpressed. “Fix your attitude,” he said flatly, squinting at you under the sun. “Seriously. You’re acting like a brat.”

You scoffed, lifting your sunglasses to perch on top of your head, revealing your full scowl. “Excuse me? I am suffering, Benjamin. Suffering. I’m out here trying to be supportive and not get heatstroke at the same time.” Ben gave you that look—the one that was half amusement, half warning. “Babe. You sat down five minutes ago.”

“Well, it feels like five hours,” you snapped, shifting again in the chair, tossing your glossy hair over your shoulder with a dramatic flair. “And I don’t understand how you’re not dying in this weather. I’m not built for this. I’m built for air conditioning and iced oat milk lattes.”

Ben walked toward you, shaking his head with a grin, like he couldn’t believe he had willingly signed up for this level of diva. He bent down slightly so he was at your level, sweaty and beautiful and frustratingly unfazed by your complaints. “You came out here wearing platform sandals to a tennis practice. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“I thought you’d be done quicker,” you said, tone clipped. “I thought I could sit here, look pretty, and clap when appropriate. Instead, I’m stuck in a sweat lodge listening to my bones scream.” Ben leaned in a little closer, voice lowering. “ I love you,” Your eyes narrowed beneath your sunglasses, suspicious. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, reaching down to wrap his fingers around your ankle, giving it a gentle tug—part teasing, part grounding. “But if you don’t stop acting like you’re auditioning for ‘Real Housewives of Miami,’ I’m leaving you out here with the ball boys.” You gasped, sitting up straighter. “You wouldn’t.”

“I will,” he warned playfully, walking backwards toward the court again. “I swear to God, you start talking about your feet one more time—” “But they hurt!” “—ball boys, babe. Ball boys.” You watched him with an outraged expression, arms folded tighter now as you sank back into your chair, fuming but also…a little flustered.

He always had that effect on you. Infuriating, gorgeous idiot. You muttered under your breath, “I hate you,” just loud enough for him to hear. He winked. “Love you too, princess.” And with that, he was gone, back on the court, dripping sweat and stealing your breath in a whole different way.

You sighed dramatically and adjusted your sunglasses back over your eyes. Fine. Maybe you were being a little prissy. But he didn’t have to look that good while calling you out. Rude.

[burr-ell]

If it's alright, can I ask why you like the Golden Deer house more than the Blue Lions or Black Eagle houses? Like, what caught your eye about them over everyone else?

So I actually got into FE3H through a friend of mine, @dar-draws, who I already knew through mutual good taste (Dickkory), and fanarts like this one, this one, and this one plus the way she talked about Claude and Claudeleth caught my attention. I watched a couple playthroughs of the Golden Deer route on YouTube and absolutely fell in love (before finally getting a switch just to play it myself, for which I was violently bullied here). So like, I was already going into the game biased, which is part of why when I got it I went ahead and played through Golden Deer before doing all the other routes in turn; it was genuinely important to me to personally see all sides of the story. But even as I've played the other routes and replayed SS and AM and gained even more of an appreciation for them, I'm still always sort of drawn back to VW and the Deer.

I think it's ultimately vibes-based, but I'll try to articulate it. I'm not really a big fan of "cozy" sorts of games—I've played and enjoyed ACNH, but the things I most enjoyed about that game were finding things to do and goals to complete, like completing the main quest line or filling up the museum. So it's not so much that I find the Golden Deer to be cozy so much as adventurous. They're not inherently personally invested in the conflicts of White Clouds (they don't know Lord Lonato or Miklan, and their house leader isn't [gestures generally]), but they're also not just ping-ponging through the story. They go through the same events as the other two houses, but they're coming at it from more of an outsider's perspective, and their choice to get involved and react and respond feels more active.

The Deer also don't have any real reason to follow Claude, either, and in the early game they make sure he knows it; none of them are really all that concerned that they're speaking to the future Grand Duke of their country. Lysithea snaps at him, Leonie shoots the breeze with him, Raphael is jovial with him, Lorenz undercuts him, Hilda is blase with him, Marianne tries not to talk to him, and Ignatz gets into theological debates with him. Over the course of the game, they develop the same loyalty to Claude that the other house members already have for their leaders almost by default, and it feels a lot more earned because we see it happen. And that in turn makes scenes like the one at Myrddin, where Claude reveals his true goal of opening the border with Almyra and embracing foreign cultures and the other Deer are surprised but trust Claude and follow his lead, that much more satisfying.

I was a little surprised, when I played through the other three routes, that aside from the designated talking-with-the-cast scenes every route gets, the characters who aren't house leaders or retainers don't really have all that much to do in the story. On Verdant Wind, you pretty consistently have members of the Golden Deer appearing in other cutscenes and giving their two cents; there's even a unique scene where Lysithea realizes there's something up with the Empire's mages because of her backstory and approaches Claude and Byleth about it. It's nothing too obtrusive—they do still have to accommodate the potential for character death—but it's those small details that make a difference to me. Every house has a particular dynamic with odd silly quirks, but the Deer being just that little bit more integrated into the story really helps sell the idea that they belong here and they're making this story their own.

There's also the matter of where specifically their adventure takes them. I respect the choice to focus on Dimitri in Azure Moon, because it does handle his character and arc very well and I think also does the other Lions justice (with the exception of Dedue), but it's also focused largely on Dimitri's personal arc and the Tragedy of Duscur and doesn't really follow through on a lot of the events of White Clouds. (Which some Blue Lions stans have been okay with because they think the Agarthans are bad villains, which...that's valid, but stories still have to like, address plot elements they set up.) Verdant Wind, by contrast, does actually pull back and try to figure out the real impetus behind the whole conflict, and it ends with them beginning to properly lay Fodlan's true problems to rest.

So while the route isn't flawless and I do think there are issues with how characters are written that are part of larger trends within the game and the series as a whole, there's a very specific kind of fantasy adventure energy with the Golden Deer that I enjoy. I think the stories I'm most drawn to are the ones that keep their eyes on a specific goal but still make you feel like the characters would bring that same energy to goofing around with each other, and I think that's something Verdant Wind does very well.

[not-neverland06]

we're dating? ♡

logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've decided using the same X-men name/powers for the reader in my Logan fics is easier because coming up with superpowers is hard and stupid. They call you flux, like once, it's really just a nickname incoming warning for fluff so bad you'll get a cavity Summary: You're on probation from the team and official house arrest after a little accident with your powers. Logan knows you're going stir-crazy so he takes you to the arcade for some fun. And then your friendship takes a weird turn. (80's timeline in mind, but characters not from the 80’s will be mentioned) Clueless!reader

You’d had an accident, a few weeks ago. Well, accident might be downplaying it too much. You’d destroyed the garden and left a ten-foot crater in the backyard of Charles’ prestigious grounds. In your defense, you had warned them all that it wasn’t a good idea to take your cuffs off. 

The metal bands are entirely necessary to make sure you can’t lose control and wipe out everything around you. Manipulation at an atomic level is beyond fatal. You don’t want to think about what would have happened if you’d had the meltdown and the kids were anywhere near you. 

Charles had been able to shut you down, but now he’s keeping you on probation. You’ve been locked up in the mansion, unable to leave until you managed to get your abilities under control. There’s never been a problem with wearing the cuffs before. You don’t understand why he’s so against them now. 

You’re going stir-crazy. There’s only so many times you can pace your room before you start to lose your mind. He’s not even letting you teach classes anymore. You’re stuck training, all day, every day. 

“Focus!” Charles snaps and you resist the urge to turn his bones liquid. Maybe that would get him off your back. 

Instead of killing your friend, you glare at the large tank of water in front of you. You do what you’ve been doing for the past half hour. It fluctuates from liquid to gas to solid, and then liquid again. An endless cycle of repetition that makes you want to melt your brain so you don’t have to do this anymore. 

You drop your hand and huff. “This is pointless, Charles. What’s this even teaching me?”

He crosses his arms, walks over to you, and pointedly glares at the tank in front of you. You roll your eyes and look back at it. “Shit,” you hiss. In your frustration, the glass has cracked and splintered into dust. Water pools around your stool and leaks through the wood of the floor. You flick your wrist, the glass swirling around you before reforming into the tank. The water follows along, droplets lifting from the floor and dropping back into the container. 

“One moment of frustration, of distraction. That’s all it took.” Charles shakes his head and walks back over to his desk. He picks the cuffs up and you slip them silently back onto your wrists. “How can you be trusted to protect your team on the field if you can’t control this? What are you going to do when you’re panicked and fighting for your life?”

Shame bubbles in your gut. It makes you nauseous and forces your eyes to the floor so you don’t have to face him. He sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. You glance up at him briefly and he offers a strained smile. 

“This is for your protection, as much as you hate it, Flux. It’s necessary.” You scoff at the use of your X-Men name. Not much of an X-Man if you’re not even on the field anymore. 

“Right,” you mutter. “Thanks for the lesson in incompetency,” you don’t let him respond and slam the door to his office closed behind you. You feel bad the second you get outside and onto the porch. He doesn’t deserve your bitchiness. It’s your own fault you can’t get a handle on this. You don't have anyone to blame but yourself. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, throwing yourself into a rocking chair and running your hands over your face. The once comforting weight of your cuffs is now oppressing. It just feels like a constant reminder of your failure. You should already have a handle on all of this, but you struggle to even manipulate water. 

“Rough day?” You don’t open your eyes as Logan walks by. He takes a seat on the rocking chair beside you, letting out a low groan as he stretches. 

You let your hands drop into your lap, staring at the sunset so you don’t have to face him. You’ve already dealt with enough dejection today. You don’t need to look at him and be reminded that you want him in a way you can never have. 

“Mhm,” you hum, propping your head in your hand as you watch the sun disappear behind the clouds. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange that seem too hopeful for how you feel right now. 

Logan chuckles, the sound low and gravely. It makes your heart stutter in your chest and you cringe in embarrassment. You know he can hear the way your heart practically beats free of your ribs when you’re around him. You’re sure with that nose of his he can smell some sort of hormonal change in you every time you lay eyes on him. 

You swear you’ve never felt this way about a man before. You haven’t had many boyfriends before, it’s not really common among mutants. Not many people are accepting of you when they know what you are. And some people are too into you. 

But you've had crushes, and none of them have been as bad as this one is. You want to gnaw on him. It sounds fucking insane every time you think about it. But when you train with him and he tears his shirt off, you want to sink your teeth into him and never let go. 

You feel feral around him, a side of you surfacing that you’re not used to. Maybe it’s because of his mutant abilities. They are very animalistic, it’s easy to blame that on how desperately you crave him. 

You hate being around him and despise not being in his presence. It’s conflicting, and more often than not you sound like a bumbling idiot when you speak to him because your brain is going in a million different directions. 

You hear the familiar click of his lighter and then he shifts again. You risk a peek over at him and regret it the second you do. His head is tilted back, eyes closed in relaxation as he stretches across the porch. Smoke leaks out of his lips as he groans in satisfaction. 

You have to pick your jaw up off the floor and make sure there isn’t drool on your chin. This is insane. You’re a grown woman, how does he have this much of an effect on you? He’s not even doing anything! He’s just sitting there and you want to jump his bones. 

You whip your head around, mumbling incoherently to yourself to get it together. Logan peaks an eye open and you miss the mischievous tilt to his lips. “Something wrong?”

I need to have sex with you or I’m going to explode. 

You stutter for a few seconds, getting your mind back together. “Just training with Charles,” you mutter. 

He sits up a little straighter and quirks a brow. When you don’t continue he sighs. “And?” He prods, impatient for your answer. You hope you’re not reading into it, but you think he’s been as disappointed by your absence from the team as you are. He always complains about being partnered up with Scott. You like to think it’s because he misses you. But you’re probably just delusional. 

“And, nothing,” you sigh. Your hands flop against your legs and you glare at the bands on your wrists. “No progress. I still can’t control them without these on, and my abilities are watered down and useless with the cuffs.”

Logan huffs, you’re caught off guard by the sudden warmth on your thigh. You glance down, eyes widening ever so slightly when you see his hand on your leg. It nearly covers the whole thing and when he squeezes your thigh you think you’re going to pass out. 

You’re friendly. But you’ve never been touchy. At least not like this. The placement of his palm is very intimate and you are struggling not to just get on your knees and profess your undying love. You take in a deep breath, looking up at him so you can get your heartbeat under control. 

But looking at him just makes it worse. Because there is so much faith and fondness in his gaze as he looks at you. His lips are tilted up, eyes soft, and you’ve never had someone make you feel so warm and secure from just a look. 

“You aren’t useless,” he tells you. He squeezes your thigh again before he retreats back to his chair. You have to clamp your jaw shut so you don’t beg him to keep touching you and never stop. “You’re just stuck in this house all day. You’ve got nothing to do but sit in your failure.”

You scoff and throw yourself back in your seat. “Don’t remind me. I’ve begged Charles to let me out.” Your gaze drifts to the crater in the backyard. Some of the kids have been working on filling it in, but whatever energy you’d let go of has left a permanent mark. “He refuses to give me permission.”

Logan laughs, the noise teasing and a little mean. Your brows furrow and you glance over at him with a questioning look. He tilts his head in disbelief like you’re an idiot. “Seriously, Flux? Just fuckin’ leave, who gives a shit?”

“Uh,” you think on it for a minute before weakly settling on, “Charles?”

His face falls and you sink lower into your seat. He looks out at the yard, gaze distant. His jaw clenches a few times before he puts the cigar out on the ashtray beside him. He gets to his feet and you think he might just leave. Instead, he turns towards you. 

You’re caught off guard by the little smirk on his face. “Wanna have some fun?”

Only an idiot would say no. 

You grin and place your hand in his, yelping slightly at how easily he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his chest and are hesitant to back away when his hand drifts to rest on your waist. He looks down at you, smiling, he squeezes your waist once before he backs up. 

“Come on, kid.” He tugs you inside the house, leading you downstairs to the garage. You already know what he’s going for before the door is even open. 

“Didn’t Scott tell you to leave his bike alone?” Logan takes a step inside. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at you. It makes your breath catch in your throat, the happiness on his face. You never see him like this around the others. 

You hate thinking like that. Placing too much importance on your relationship with him will only lead to heartbreak down the road. But, you never see him act the way he does with you with anyone else.

“Since when have I ever listened to Cyclops, sweetheart?” 

“Good point,” you mutter, moving to stand next to him. 

He straddles the seat and looks over expectantly at you. “Don’t you need a helmet?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no, it’ll ruin my hair.” You laugh but he gives you a deadpan look. You don’t regenerate the way he does. An accident would be a lot more fatal for you than it would be for him. You huff, “Relax, Lo, I can use my powers.” When he looks like he’s not going to drop it, you let some energy swirl around your fingers. It solidifies the air around your skin, you reach up and flick at his skull hard enough to hear the metal ding. 

He grunts, glaring down at your hand while you grin. “See,” you whisper, sliding onto the back of the bike and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m perfectly safe.” He shakes his head and starts the bike. 

The ride to the arcade is spent in silence. Logan always seems to break every speeding law known to man whenever he takes Scott’s bike out. You’re not sure if he does it to purposefully piss the man off, but it makes you cling to him like a wild animal. You feel like if you hit one speed bump you’re going to go flying. 

By the time he parks your legs feel like jello. He laughs a little at the way your face has blanched. Again, he offers you a hand and holds the door open to lead you inside. You’re trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this whole thing is odd. 

You guys are friends. And you’re friendlier with each other than most of the mutants in the school. But this feels different somehow. For one, Logan kind of despises the arcade. It’s an amalgamation of bad smells and loud noises, and it overwhelms his already sensitive senses. You’ve heard him complain about the smell of body odor and fake cheese enough times when you went on a field trip with the kids. 

Secondly, he’s being more touchy than he normally would. You’re not complaining. You weren’t exactly hugged a lot as a kid, mainly just passed between different mutant fetish clubs. Logan isn’t known for handing hugs out so easily. But right now, he doesn’t seem to be ready to not have at least one hand on you. 

Maybe he’s just cheering you up. You need to stop drifting so far into your mind and just enjoy the night. “Alright, what’s first bub?”

You grin and drag him towards the claw machine. “I’m horrible at these things,” you inform him as you put your quarters in. “But, I hold out hope that one day I’ll be able to actually beat this monster.”

Three failed attempts later, it’s become embarrassingly clear that you will never beat the claw machine. Logan isn’t even trying to hide his amusement as you become increasingly more frustrated. There’s a certain point where this game stops being fun and starts to be an affront to your character. 

Logan peers into the machine and asks, “What are you going for?”

“The pigeon,” you mutter. Your tongue pokes between your lips, and your eyes narrow in concentration. You aim the claw over the pigeon perfectly and slam your hand down on the big red button. 

You’re allowed five seconds of celebration before the damn thing slips out of the claws grasp and tumbles into the pile of stuffies below. “Dammit, Bart,” you let the ridiculous name you’ve come up with for the toy slip.

Logan snorts, leaning against the glass while you jam another quarter in the slot. “Bart?” He teases. 

You shake your head and give him a look out the side of your eye. “What, you think I call myself Flux because I’m good at coming up with names?” You give up after the last failed attempt and turn to face him with a huff. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Tough luck, kid.” He slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you towards the concession stand. 

“Shut up,” you laugh, slapping lightly at his chest. 

The rest of the night is nice. He doesn’t play much except for the strength-oriented games. And then you kind of just exploit him for more tickets. By the time you get back to the mansion, you’ve forgotten all about why you were upset in the first place. 

Nothing had gone wrong, you didn’t have a total meltdown and wipe out the entire arcade. You don’t know why Charles was so afraid of letting you out. 

Logan walks you back to your room, his hand heavy on your lower back as you head up the stairs. You’re talking endlessly, filling up any gap of silence with rambling you’ve lost track of. You don’t know what it is about him that invites you to yap the way you do, but you’re always embarrassed by it the second he leaves. 

You reach your door and smile up at him. “Thanks, Lo.”

He gives you a soft smile, his eyes wrinkling endearingly at the corners. He reaches up and brushes some hair off your shoulder. There’s a certain shift in his expression that has your breath stopping short. Whatever else you were going to say to him tumbles off into an incomprehensible whisper. 

He leans down and every inappropriate thought you’ve ever had about him suddenly surges to the front of your mind. Your lips part in anticipation, thinking he’s going to kiss you and your fantasies are going to come to life. 

His lips brush against your cheek so gently you almost don’t feel them. “‘Night Flux,” he leans back and your body goes with him. He backs off with a smile, walking down the hall to his own room. You feel dazed, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as you fan your cheeks and try to come to terms with what just happened.

He didn’t kiss you, but you oddly aren’t disappointed. You go to bed that night with a lovesick grin on your face. Well, you would have. Were it not for the annoyingly British voice ringing out in your head, “Training’s at four tomorrow morning. Consider it your punishment for sneaking out.”

“Fuck,” you hiss to yourself. Stupid fucking telepaths. 

You thought the arcade was a one-off moment. But Logan keeps sneaking you out of the mansion. Charles hasn’t officially lifted the house arrest, but he’s given up trying to keep you inside. Besides, you’ve essentially got a chaperone since Logan is always with you. 

You make lunch for the two of you and he’ll take you out to the woods for a picnic. Or you’ll go to the movies together. Sometimes you don’t even do anything, just linger around each other. You enjoy the company, and you love having these quiet moments together with no one else around. 

Your favorite part of all of this has to be the way he’s started touching you. He’s always got a hand on your leg or back. And if he can’t do that, then you’re tucked into his side. It’s feeding into a starved part of you that you’ve left neglected for far too long. 

It’s only been about two weeks of these fun little adventures and odd behavior. You’re dreading the moment they’ll stop. You’re not sure when Logan’s going to deem you properly cheered up, but you’re hoping it’s not anytime soon. 

There have been a few more moments where you think your friendship might turn into something more, and every time you’ve been interrupted. You’re actually starting to feel a little edged. You’ve been considering just grabbing him and planting one on him. But every time you think about it you get sick to your stomach. 

You don’t want to make a move on him and end up getting rejected. You know he’s just being a good friend and taking care of you so you don’t end up spiraling too far in your head. It’s happened before, when you’ve been struggling with your abilities. He’s just keeping you from shutting down again and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable because you’re hopelessly in love. 

When you walk out of your room this morning you’re immediately smacked in the face. “What the fuck, guys?” You yell at the two kids running past your room. Not the best language for someone who's supposed to be a role model. You can’t be bothered though, not when they’re running around throwing pink rolls of streamer at your face. 

“Sorry!” Mary calls over her shoulder, laughing as she pins a heart up onto the wall. You’re sure Charles won’t appreciate the hole in his old ass mahogany wood. It’s only as you watch her run down the stairs that you register just what is going on. 

There is pink and red everywhere. It looks like Dollar Store Cupid has thrown up all over the mansion. You’ve been so caught up in your attraction to Logan that, ironically, you’ve forgotten what month it was. 

You grumble bitterly to yourself as you trudge down the stairs. Another Valentine’s Day alone and single. How lovely. You spot two kids giggling to themselves by the banister, they lean in like they’re going to kiss and you gag. “Hey!” You snap, and they jump apart, eyes wide with fear. “Quit it, get out of here.” They scramble off and you feel just a little bit vindicated. 

“Not a fan of young love, Flux?”

You groan and roll your eyes, turning around to find a very smug Scott watching you bully teenagers. “Shut it, Summers,” you warn. You point an accusing finger at him and he raises his hands in surrender. Faux innocence played across his insufferable smirk. “When you’re in a committed relationship, you don’t get to judge me.”

His brows turn down in confusion, “Wait, but aren’t you and Logan-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a loud crash down the hall. You both turn around just as one of the classroom doors slams open. A bright pink explosion hurtles from the doors and a throng of coughing students follows. 

Jubilee walks out a minute later, a guilty expression on her face. “Sorry, I was just trying to make it more Vanetine-y.” 

You glance over at Scott, grinning widely at him while you pat his shoulder and walk past him, leaving him to clean up the mess. “Enjoy the young love, Summers.”

You actively avoid Logan all day. You’re already facing constant reminders of how lonely you are. You see kids walking around with baskets of bears and chocolates. Or you catch them passing notes in class with scribbled hearts all over the front. 

There’s only so much a girl can take before she loses it. The last thing you need is to be faced with the man you have the worst unrequited crush on in history. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint. He’s everywhere you go, popping up around corners and trying to catch your attention. 

You keep brushing him off and pretending like you have something urgent you’re going to be late for. Eventually, though, he was going to catch up with you. 

It happens in the kitchen. Most of the kids are in their rooms or the library. The noise has died down and you’re alone. You grumble to yourself, ripping down a pink streamer that keeps drifting across the top of your head and pissing you off. You grab a frozen meal from the fridge and are about to microwave it when he speaks. 

“Huh, thought you’d want something a little more romantic than a frozen burrito.” 

You gasp, clutching your chest and whirling around on him while your heart races. “Logan, Jesus, you scared me.” He’s frowning at you, eyes glaring at the frozen package in your hand. “Um,” you toss it back in the freezer but the look on his face isn’t going away. “Yeah, I might just go with cereal instead.”

He looks at you and then glances behind him. You peer around his shoulder but you don’t see anything. Without much warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the stairs. “Logan?” There’s no point in trying to resist him, he could just toss you up the stairs if he wanted to. Still, the silence is kind of creeping you out. 

You call his name a few more times but give up when he makes it clear he’s not going to be answering you anytime. There’s a rotten feeling in your stomach. You have this awful idea like you’re in trouble for something. Like a little girl who's gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar too many times. 

He stops you in front of his door and nods towards it. “You want me to go inside?” He crosses his arms and glares down at you. You huff and mutter, “Jesus, fine.” What the hell is wrong with him?

You grab the doorknob to his room, glaring at him while you do. You throw the door open dramatically, taking a step inside and surveying the area. “Wow,” you suck your teeth and shake your head. “You have not decorated at all.”

“Shut up, smartass,” he mutters in your ear. Chills prick at your skin from his proximity. A shudder goes down your spine as the low tone of his voice reverberates through you. “Look a little harder.”

You roll your eyes but acquiesce. Another run over the room finally shows you what you missed. You gasp and rush towards his bed, “Holy shit, Bart!” He chuckles behind you as you pick the stuffed pigeon up. 

“Went back for him after we left,” Logan tells you. 

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How many tries did this take you?” He mouths a smug one and you roll your eyes in irritation. You look back down at the pigeon and smile.

He smells like the inside of a claw machine. His head is sewed on crookedly and you’re pretty sure he’s missing an eye. But he’s absolutely perfect to you. You’re about to thank Logan when you spot something metal wrapped around the stuffie’s neck. “What’s this,” you mumble to yourself. 

You slide your fingers under the chain and tug it off Bart’s neck. Logan’s dog tags dangle off your fingers and you stare at him in shock. A sudden cold dread washes over you and you find yourself immobile. “Logan,” you trail off, an unspoken question following his name. 

He smirks, walking towards you and slipping the tags out of your hand. “I wanted you to have this,” he says, his voice low like this moment is too precious to break, “so you know you’re not alone. You’re always so afraid of what’s going to happen if you lose control out in the field. But you forget, you’re not alone. You have me, you’re always going to have me.” He places the tags over your neck, untucking your hair from the chain. 

You don’t even have words for him. It’s such a deeply personal gift. But this also feels incredibly intimate. There’s no possible way for you to reason this away. This isn’t something “just friends” do. 

He seems to prefer your silence, anyway. One of his hands drifts from your neck and cups your jaw. With the utmost tenderness, he lifts your face to his. “Wanted to do this for a while,” he whispers. You almost ask what he’s talking about, but his lips are already covering yours. 

It’s incredibly soft, this kiss, softer than you’re used to. He’s barely putting any pressure on you and it makes you realize that you’re still not moving. You’re just standing there in shock, eyes wide open while the man you’ve wanted since you’ve known him kisses you. 

You drop Bart to the floor and your arms come up to twine around his neck. You finally close your eyes, let your body melt into his knowing he’ll catch you. The second you reciprocate he really kisses you. Neither of you hold back, each of you pouring all the pent-up desire you’ve felt for each other. 

You’ve spent so long dancing around this, around each other. It’s like a missing puzzle piece is returned to you as Logan holds you. You feel full, complete, warmer than you ever have before. 

You part from him - needing air - painfully slow. You don’t want to spend a second away from him now that you have him. You wish you didn’t have to breathe. Wished you could have kept kissing him and never stopped. 

Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss against your forehead like he can read your thoughts. You can feel the dorky smile that’s about to split your cheeks. You bite your lip, hoping it might suppress it, but you know it’s pointless. 

You look up at him with a cheeky twinkle in your eye. “Are you asking me to be your Valentine, Lo?”

He scoffs and pulls away from you slightly. “Do you have to ask your girlfriend to be your Valentine?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens and closes rapidly. “I- Well- I mean,” you take a full step back from him and shake your head. “What?” You finally settle on. “I mean, I’m not objecting, at all, but what?”

Logan tilts his head, a disbelieving look on his face. “What do you think we’ve been doing the past three weeks?”

You shake your head, stuttering and struggling for an answer. “I don’t know. I thought you were being a good friend!”

He smiles, there’s no irritation on his face at your cluelessness. If anything he seems to be more endeared to you. “You think I take all my friends on romantic picnics in the woods?”

You sigh, letting out a long disappointed breath. You can’t believe you’ve been so blind. When you think about it, his behavior lately makes a lot more sense. You’re not sure how you were able to trick yourself for so long. 

“Well,” you start, walking back towards him as he pulls you into a hug, “certainly not Scott.” He huffs and shakes his head. You give him a sheepish smile, brows knitted together. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating this whole time.”

He just presses another kiss to your temple and shrugs. “It’s alright, sweetheart, you can make it up to me by being my Valentine again next year.”

There’s something unspoken in his voice. A promise that he’s planning to be around for a lot longer than a year. You smile at him, silently promising the same. “Only if you’re mine.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: i’m gonna gag actually. Made myself cringe there at the end. I want a valentine next year so bad, it’s sad. But what’s the point of a valentine if it’s not going to be Logan?

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

[yukioos]

satoru having to adjust himself to your height

ever since the beginning of your friendship, satoru couldn’t help but tease you for everything. he didn’t necessarily make fun of you, or with the intent of hurting you, but more as playful banter. although sometimes you wouldn’t reciprocate it, he could always tell if he was going too far and would halt his words immediately.

even throughout your relationship, satoru would continue to tease you, whether it was about how you ‘dolled yourself up for him’ or how you thought about him when you went to a bakery, resulting in you buying him a cake, or for your height.

although you weren’t that much smaller than him, he always loved to tease you for it, whether you were an inch shorter or a foot shorter. one way he did this was by resting his arm on your head, using you as an armrest when he claimed he was tired.

another was when you were talking to him face to face. once, you complained about your neck hurting when you had to look up at the tall man, so he brought it upon himself to fix your pain… by nearly doing the splits on the ground to see you at eye level.

“y’know, i was at a different cafe in tokyo and this guy bought me a drink, right? so i was a little wary at first, then he tried to hit on me, and when i rejected him, he threw my drink on the ground!” you exclaimed, frustrated at the stranger’s outrageous behavior.

satoru nodded, legs hurting a bit from the stretch, “i wouldn’t have done that,” he mumbled, eyes averting to the ground before glancing back up at you, “why didn’t you just call me? i would’ve bought you a drink after that?”

“i was too nervous—“ you tried to make up an excuse for yourself before you paused in your tracks. what the fuck was satoru doing?

“satoru…” you warned, staring at his shoes spread apart on the ground.

“yes?” he teasingly asked, arms crossed and head tilted, still listening to you with a smile that stretched out his glossy lips.

you paused for a moment, “why are you standing like that?” then frowned, crossing your arms as well and glaring up at him. to him, you just looked like an angry puppy.

“didn’t you say your neck began to hurt from craning up at me whenever we talked?” he replied with another question.

you expected it to be a sarcastic response, but at least it was a little wholesome. there was definitely more truth to it, he just wouldn’t admit it.

“yeah,” you mumbled, nodding at how he was being nice and not sassy for once.

“doesn’t this help?” he asked with a smirk, knowing he still got under your skin for the small change in position.

“you’re just messing with me, aren’t you?”

he hummed, “sort of,” then laughed, rounding back to your previous topic of conversation.

YAYYY first satoru writing!! btw im not abandoning mha and just decided to write him for fun

[tacticalhimbo]

HURRICANE HELENE RELIEF

Since I'm incredibly anxious and very much annoyed, I'm compiling this post as a sort of master list of relief organizations and individual fundraisers for those in the path of Hurricane Helene.

Many of the links I post on this won't be individuals, but I encourage those within the path to add their links to this post in reblogs! Likewise, if you have any organizations / volunteer / grassroots efforts y'all would like to share, please do so!

LAST EDITED: 9/29/2024 - MAKE SURE TO CHECK REBLOGS FOR UPDATES!

My list is particularly focused on widely accessible resources, as well as Florida specific resources since... I'm from Florida.

(INTER)NATIONAL ORGANIZATIONS

American Red Cross - The American Red Cross is on the ground helping people as Hurricane Helene approaches land as a very dangerous storm. Helene may produce winds over 150 mph, a massive 20-foot-high storm surge and as much as a foot of rain. Prolonged power outages and tornadoes may occur. The effects will be felt hundreds of miles inland including in Georgia and the Carolinas.

FEMA Disaster Assistance Improvement Program - The Disaster Assistance Improvement Program’s (DAIP) mission is to provide disaster survivors with information, support, services, and a means to access and apply for disaster assistance through joint data-sharing efforts between federal, tribal, state, local, and private sector partners.

Roll Mobility - An application that equips wheelchair users with reliable information about the accessibility of restaurants, public spaces, businesses, trails, and parking areas. Good information to have on hand, especially for those evacuating from their home areas.

Warmline Directory - Providing extensive yet accessible resources that empower individuals to find the mental health and wellness resources they need through a directory containing accurate and in-depth information. For those unfamiliar: Unlike a crisis line, a warm line operator is unlikely to call the police or have someone locked up if they talk about suicidal or self-harming thoughts or behaviors. A good resource for individuals in mental distress due to natural disaster circumstances.

Food Not Bombs - Recovers food that would have been discarded and share it as a way of protesting war and poverty. They also reduce food waste and meet the direct need of communities by collecting discarded food, preparing vegan meals that they share with the hungry while providing literature about the need to change our society. Food Not Bombs also provides food to protesters and striking workers and organizes food relief after natural and political crisis.

Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies - The Partnership for Inclusive Disaster Strategies (The Partnership) is the only U.S. disability-led, 501(c)(3) organization that prioritizes equity, access, disability rights, disability justice, and full inclusion of people with disabilities, older adults, and people with access and functional needs before, during and after disasters and emergencies.

FLORIDA

Volunteer Florida Disaster Fund - The Florida Disaster Fund is the State of Florida’s official private fund established to assist Florida’s communities as they respond to and recover during times of emergency or disaster. In partnership with the public sector, private sector and other non-governmental organizations, the Florida Disaster Fund supports response and recovery activities.

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 52 Organizations Listed)

GEORGIA

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 60 Organizations Listed)

TENNESSEE

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 49 Organizations Listed)

NORTH CAROLINA

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 45 Organizations Listed)

Beloved Asheville - A community-led coalition dedicated to providing home, healthy, equity, and opportunity for all.

Triangle NC - This links to another post I've made, but Triangle Mutual Aid is organizing supply drop offs as well as financial support.

SOUTH CAROLINA

State and Local Level Referrals - When a disaster occurs, local governments often work together with community leaders and organizations to provide on-the-ground emergency management. Curated by FEMA. (Has 44 Organizations Listed)

INDIVIDUAL FUNDRAISERS

Support a Resilient Family Seeking a New Home - LINK ; Tumblr @junpei-iori-ace-defective (Close Friend of the Affected) | Fundraiser Text Below:

My name is Adam. I'm not the best at this; I never thought I'd have to do this, but my family and I lost our home on September 26th due to the hurricane Helene here in Florida. No one in our area thought it would get bad, but we didn't have any rain. All of a sudden, the water rose, and by midnight, our home was flooded with three feet of water. I had to carry our pets to the neighbors and my disabled wife through five feet of water. Then, my elderly disabled mother and grandmother through the water. We lost all of our clothes and many of our belongings, and our landlord will be having us move out. We have nowhere to go, so today I'm asking for help from the kindness of the world. Anything can help. If I can get enough to get us into a new home, it would be a blessing. Thank you all, and God bless.

Help Rebuild Lives After Devastating Flash Flood - LINK ; Tumblr @undeadnecromancer (Close Friend of the Affected) | Fundraiser Text Below:

On September 27, after being trapped in a flash flood for 5 hours, my father, Jeffrey Fuller, and sister, Kayla Fuller, left with their lives ❤️ but lost everything else. My father had set his life up to be simple and enjoyable. He didn't have a lot extra, but he had everything he needed, and now all of that is gone. Unfortunately, he did not have flood insurance, and the older you get, the harder it is to bounce back from something like this. For a man who has always shown up for everyone he loves, he needs us to show up now. Please help my father rebuild.

If you have seen the video circulating around from Jeffrey Fuller where it looks like a river is going through his house and he ends it with a “Love you all,” you have seen what has brought on this devastation.

Hurricane Helene Aftermath Help - LINK ; Tumblr @moonenjoyer (Affected Individual) | Fundraiser Text Below:

Man I hate to do this but I'm in Valdosta, one of the cities hit the worse by Hurricane Helene. It's BAD here. In particular, there's no estimate of when we'll get power back. Word on the street is it could be a week or longer.

I work from home and going without power that long, I won't be making any money. Meanwhile my groceries are all spoiled in a fridge with no power and my car is on E. All the gas stations are down atm and when they're back up I KNOW gas prices are going to be crazy high because of all of this. In fact, EVERYTHING is going to be more expensive for a while because of this.

If you have anything to spare to help me with gas and groceries and just surviving this, I'd really appreciate it. If not, a reblog/share would mean a lot. Thank you ❤️

Save Nate and Amanda's First Home - Urgent Hurricane Needs - LINK ; Tumblr @luckyfirerabbit (Affected Individual) | Fundraiser Text Below:

Hi. I'm Porter Henderson. This isn't about me, though. You’re going to see a lot of fundraisers with Hurricane Helene. This might be a little different.

You see, I’m writing this on behalf of my landlords and friends, Nate and Amanda. The home we share with an additional disabled man in Lithonia, Georgia had some repairs that they couldn't afford, made much worse by the hurricane. They'd been limping along like everyone dealing with inflation and underemployment, but the situation has become urgent, and they need and deserve help.

Nate and Amanda have been my friends for over a decade, and when they heard I was no longer able to work and in a bad situation, they offered me a place in their first home. I told them I wasn’t sure what or when I would be able to pay. They told me that if I ever won my disability case I could start paying rent then.

You see, I'm trying so hard to save this home because they’ve tried so hard to save me.

I was so grateful to move in, and they treated me like family. When I lost the ability to drive, they made sure I got to my doctor’s appointments, and still do. When I can’t afford food, they take me to food banks, and what I can’t find there they’ll help me get at the store. They meet all the needs they could reasonably meet, and then a couple more.

I’ve lived here for three years now, and they’ve never stopped assuring me that I am wanted, even if I can’t contribute to the household on a daily basis. They have never let me go without if there was any other way. They have helped friends and strangers every time they have seen a need. They are unfailingly honest, incredibly trustworthy, and extremely hardworking people.

They've never had much, but they've shared everything they have.

Now, though, the hurricane turned a seem in our roof into a gushing waterfall, and finally into a large hole in Nate and Amanda's bedroom ceiling.

We tarped the leaking roof from the inside to channel out as much water as we could, but with a literal hurricane outside, there’s only so much that you can do.

The three of us who couldn’t get into the attic pushed our chronically ill bodies past their limits, dragging furniture away from walls, hauling totes as fast as we could with our canes, shoving empty containers into the corner as we kicked the debris out, and researching strategies for how to deal with the nightmare. Later we would wade through flooding water to dump out rain and tie down loose trash cans, shine lights and relay directions from the attic to outside, as we all attempted to get the water venting outside the house.

To make matters worse, the HVAC needs to be replaced. It’s a seventeen year old system, with a huge crack in the (inaccessible) drain pan and a bad motherboard. Some friends pooled money with Nate and Amanda to get a couple of window air conditioners for the summer. With medications that make three of us sensitive to heat, it’s been a rough summer, but we got through.

Unfortunately, winter is a few weeks away, and it’s going to be a little less than seventeen thousand for a new system to be installed.

What makes it an emergency however, is that without the drying and air movement of the AC, trying to dehumidify everything is going to be even harder, giving us a greater chance of mold. If mold takes hold, I'm not sure if we can save the house.

This fundraiser is for the $2,500 hurricane deductible that we're almost certainly going to be charged by the homeowner's policy and the $17,000 for the HVAC, plus estimated fees for the platform.

Not included in the total are any cleaning supplies, or a tiny storage unit and rental truck if we need one to store all of their bedroom furniture while the roof is redone. (We won't know about any of that until we get the estimate from insurance/roofing.) The claim has already been filed.

The air conditioning is a pre-existing problem, and I've found no way for it to be covered by any charity, government program, or private programs in the state. The ones that my social worker knew about didn't apply (I applied anyway) and I let her know about two more that I found. The religious groups I've reached out to in my area don't work in anything but clothing, children's furniture, and durable medical goods.

If additional costs emerge, or anything ends up being less expensive, I will update and adjust the goal accordingly as soon as I find out.

Please help these genuinely good people. The smallest donation helps. So does sharing.

Thank you in advance.

[p1astr81]

a dream

in which: Oscar has a dream. Like a real REM sleep dream. And he may just have found a pathway to make it a reality.

pairing: Oscar piastri x reader

Warnings: none, but Oscar is more whipped than whipped cream😓

next part

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar smiled to himself while he watched you—his perfect wife—chase down your six year old son down the hallway.

“Jace! You can’t leave the house without bottoms on!” You shout after him. His shrieking giggle struck Oscar’s ears and he winced.

“Ugh Victoria! I just did your hair!” Oscar heard you complain from down the hall.

Chuckling, he strolled down the hallway to meet you were you stood: the intersection between the pair of twins’ rooms. Your hands were on your hips, Jace’s jeans loosely held in one hand.

A floorboard creaked under Oscar’s foot, causing you to turn. You sighed in relief.

“I’ll get Jace’s jeans on and you do Vicky’s hair? I’m hopeless at it.” Oscar proposed.

You sighed again. “Absolutely. Trying to get your son to wear bottoms is a real nightmare.” You chuckled, breathless from chasing them around the house.

Oscar took the jeans from your hand. “He’s your son, too.” He reminded, a hum of humor.

“Looks just like you, though.” You patted his shoulder, giving him a shove towards Jace’s room.

Vicky sat relatively nice for you while you did her hair. She did shift a bit, but nothing too extreme.

Definitely nothing to the level that was happening in the next room over.

“Jace, if you put these jeans on, I’ll get you ice cream. How about that?” Oscar tried to bargain, sick of the kid’s kicking after just two minutes.

“No!” He shook his head, arms crossed.

Oscar sighed, frustrated. “You leave me no choice then.” He shook his head. Oscar moved quickly, tickling the little boy’s side to distract him while he slipped his jeans on and fastened them.

“Awe no!” Jace pouted when he realized Oscar’s trick. Always worked.

“You ready Osc?” You called from the foyer, already having slipped on Vicky’s shoes. She stood, stomping around in circles playfully.

Your husband rounded a corner, failing to hold Jace on his hip. “I don’t know how you do it.” He chuckled, a shake of his head.

“Some scientific explanation.” You grinned and waved him off, taking Jace from his arms and placing the boy on the ground.

“Of to gram gram?!” Vicky asked with another hop.

Oscar’s eyes meet your own. Your grin spreads into a wide, toothy smile. He leans over to give you a short peck on the lips.

You took her little hand in yours. “Yes, off to grandmas, now.”

Jace grabbed hold of your pinky finger. A child hung from both of your hands now. Oscar stood back for a second, observing the scene.

His heart swelled with a profound feeling of love. It was new. Sure, he’s felt loved by his mom before, but this was new. Different. A good different that had his stomach tingling and his brain feeling a little fuzzy.

Or, was the fuzzy feeling because of the love? Because now a constant beep beep beep invades his ears. The sound was overwhelming. It’s volume increased with every second that passed. Louder and Louder and Louder until until he couldn’t take it anymore.

His hand shot out, and the beeping ceased.

But he no longer saw his beautiful family anymore. No, now he faced a blank white wall. That of a hotel room.

The swell of his heart became painful. A new feeling overtook the love. It’s grip on his heart was unrelenting, as if trying to squeeze it to dust.

Grief.

He was grieving people he never knew, never even saw with his own two real eyes.

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath.

۶ৎ

“You alright, mate?” Lando gripped his shoulder, greeting him as he walked into the hospitality. “Lookin a bit down today.”

“‘M just tired.” Oscar shrugged him off. “I think I’m going to go get a coffee.” He muttered, speaking more to himself than his counterpart.

Oscar trudged up the stairs, weighed down by the grief. He found the small cafe bar, fiddling with his wallet while the barista’s back was turned.

“Oh! Mr. Piastri! How are you? What can I get for you?” The chipper voice seemed to pierce Oscar’s ears, familiar in a way he couldn’t place. He brushed it off as a workplace blur.

“I’m good, yeah. Could I just get a…” Oscar trailed off, the sight of your face throwing him off.

You. His wife. No, not his wife. Only his dream wife.

It startled Oscar just how similar you were in his dream. The smile. The chipper voice. The endless gleam of optimism in your eyes.

“Are you feeling okay?” You asked, but the question failed to penetrate the daze he was in.

He exhaled a heavy breath. The weight of grief, because there you were. In front of his very real eyes.

And the love returned. For a person he didn’t even know, not really.

“Hi.” He breathed out. He blinked a many of times, trying to make sure you were really there.

You laughed and he felt his knees go weak. It was you. “Hi. Uhm, Mr. Piastri can I get you anything?”

“Oscar.” He spoke again.

You fought the urge to laugh once more, because maybe he was having some sort of problem with his brain. Maybe all those G forces finally caught up with him.

“Yes, I know your name,” a chuckle slipped. “but can I get you anything?” You asked again.

“No, I want you to call me Oscar.” His face was on fire. You brushed it off as embarrassment, or maybe the outside heat.

You nodded. “Noted. But again, can I get you anything?” You asked again, an edge of nervousness. A short line started to form behind him.

It seemed to get through to him that time. “Right. Yeah. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “Just a latte.”

When he handed you his card, you pushed it back to him. “Cafe items are free for you, Mr. Piastri.”

“Oscar.”

“Right, sorry.” You shook your head. “I’ll have that latte out in just a minute.” You gave a polite smile.

He waited nearby, trying to catch your every moment while also trying to not seem like a creep.

You turned, catching his gaze. “Oscar,” you called, sliding his cup to the end of the pick-up station. You gave him another smile. It seemed more genuine than the formers.

He went to thank you, but you already busied yourself with another customer.

Then he noticed a small, ‘good luck today! :)’ written on his coffee cup.

And Oscar thinks he just found his new favorite hang out spot. The McLaren hospitality’s cafe.

[nightingale-prompts]

Finding Batboy

First| Previous | Next

Phantom

King

Fenton

Apprentice

Batboy

He just wanted to be Danny. Just Danny, nothing else.

But who was Danny anymore?

Danny was a 14-year-old boy who died in a tragic accident. Danny had a decent life with friends and a sister who he loved. Danny wanted to be an astronaut and loved the stars. Danny had an astrology phase that made him so annoying to everyone but Sam. Danny liked dogs and cats hated him for no reason no matter how much he loved them. Danny wanted to join the robotics club with Tucker. Danny still snuck into his sister's room when he was scared to sleep in her bed.

But Danny is dead. Danny has been dead for years now.

He missed being Danny.

Now he was Phantom.

No past.

No home.

No family.

But if that was true, what did that make Dick?

Just another person that he would have to leave behind. It wouldn't be long. History doesn't repeat but it rhymes. It can't last. It won't.

Danny flew to some abandoned factory located somewhere in Gotham. He hadn't really paid much attention. He just needed a desolate place to land. Somewhere even the ghosts have long abandoned.

Truthfully Danny didn't want to be alone. A part of him felt the urge to find that revenant that he had met. Something that felt familiar to him, someone that could understand.

But right now Danny wanted to rest and he wasn't picky about where. He wrapped his wings in a tight cocoon and plopped on the ground. His sleep was deep, more than he ever remembered having before, except once.

Danny walked through the halls of a spiraling tower that overlooked the Ghost Zone. The tower was decorated with stars and moons. Mist hovered just above the floor creating a icy blue carpet. Ghost sheep napped in corners. The scent of poppy and pine filled the air.

As Danny ascended to the top he met with a familiar face. Nocturne the ghost of dreams. The ghost's thick bridged nose reminded Danny of that of a sheep that matched his curled ramhorns. His red eyes with horizontal pupils reminded him of a demonic ram he had seen in a horror movie once. Danny could practically hear that line again: "Would thou like to live deliciously?"

It still gave Danny chills.

"Please refrain from making such comparisons." Nocturne said, his voice deep but soft at the same time.

Danny had gotten to know Nocturne some time ago. Apparently, he and Clockwork were close. They shared a high rank among ghosts as they were abstract manifestations rather then being that were once living like some. The hierarchy of ghosts was complex, and Nocturne was not someone to look down on.

"Nox, why am I here?" Danny said standing before the seven-foot frame of the amorphous ghost.

"You are spending too much time in the material realm. If you don't get time back in the realm to which you belong you'll go mad. It's already starting to happen. I stole your mind away for a bit to give you a mental break but your body is already starting to break down." Nocturne said waving a finger at him.

"My body and brain are fine Nox." Danny said crossing his arms.

Nocturne picked the boy up with one hand and held him at eye level.

"You are having trouble shifting are you not? Its not coming as easily as it should. The more attached you get to a form without the energy from our world to break it up the worse it will be. The Ghost of Time has already told me of the problem. You must stay here for the time being and recover. It is what's best. Mental weakness is the worst one can suffer and the remedy is sleep." Nocturne's breath smelled like warm milk and cinnamon. It calmed Danny's nerves and made his eyes heavy.

Clockwork had put him up to this. That old man...really was....annoying....Zzzz.

Back in the world of the living and awake mass panic has broken out.

Batboy is currently missing and Nightwing is not handling it well. The entirety of the Gotham Vigilantes team has been notified and is searching the cities of Gotham and Bludhaven.

"Have you searched the docks?" Nightwing asked frantically as he searched every rooftop in the city.

"I'm working on it. Do you really think he's here?" Red Robin said scanning every unit on the lot.

Red Hood didn't know what the BatBoy kid looked like other than the whole wings thing. If his little buddy Phantom could help it would help.

Although they had a slight resemblance Jason could see too many differences when looking at the pictures. Phantom had round ears, and silver hair that moved like fire and looked like a human. Batboy had long sharp ears, claws, pointy teeth, blueish-green skin, wings, and a white fluff around his neck. Clearly, they were different.

Batman searched the dark allies of Gotham as Signal and Orphan split up to cover as much ground as possible. Oracle searched every camera from the past few hours for the boy.

The good news was that Batboy was found. The bad news was who found him.

"Poor little Bluebird lost his fledgling and Batsy is looking for the lost pup. I should let them know that the little guy has been found! Ahahahaha!"

[comatosebunny09]

nuisance | sylus

summary: sylus doesn't get drunk...does he? warning(s): mentions of alcohol, pet names, cunnilingus, somno, language, oocness, blue balls of the female kind music inspo: i wanna know - joe notes: @muvaginger i'm sorry.

Sleep won’t find you tonight.

So you’re not at all upset when you’re shaken out of bed by the ruckus in the hallway. And as you pad closer to the front door, you hear what reminds you of a hit dog hollering.

Or someone trying to sing.

The beginnings of a migraine throb in your temples. You throw your door open, and isn’t he just a sight for sore eyes?

There’s a familiar shock of white hair. Drooping, sunset eyes fixed on you, and he’s singing his heart out—or so he thinks.

“I want to know what turns you on,” Sylus croons, a hand on his chest and a finger pointed at you. “So I can be all that and mooore.”

You sigh at his impromptu dance routine. It’s cute. Really, it is. But he sounds like a metal pipe being dragged across the sidewalk. Regardless, you don’t discourage him. Just cross your arms with a quiet smile, leaning against your doorframe to take in the show.

His voice crescendos after the second ‘I’d like to know,’ and you wince, waving your hands frantically to get your boyfriend to keep it down. The last time he pulled a stunt like this, you received a discrepancy letter for the noise from the front office. One more incident, and you’re sure you’ll wake up to an eviction notice.

A sweat-drop beading on your temple, you grab Sylus’s arm and snatch him inside, all the while hissing for him to shut the hell up. He laughs like the inebriated, lovesick idiot he is, and you lock the door behind him.

“Hey, sugar,” Sylus slurs, propped up against your entrance. He tugs on your wrists, luring you in for a sloppy kiss just shy of your lips.

The door thumps when you shove him back against it. Wanna run your fingers through his tousled hair, stroke his reddened cheeks, and unfasten the last few buttons of his shirt. Instead, you raise a curious brow, hands on hips, foot tapping.

“Sugar?” Of all the pet names, you’ve never heard that one come out of his mouth. Either he’s spent some time down south, or someone’s replaced your Sylus with a doppelganger. “Oh, you’re drunk drunk.”

No, you didn’t stutter.

“Honey,” he drawls, all silk and satin. There he goes again, talking like your mama. He folds his arms over his chest, mirroring your haughtiness. “I don’t get drunk.”

On cue, his knees buckle, and the oaky scent of whisky on his breath fills your nostrils. He nearly crumbles to the ground, catching himself at the last moment. Your hands perch on his hips, helping steady him.

“Drunk. You’re drunk, Sy,” you chastise, your voice strained, and brows knit with the effort of helping his heavy ass stumble to your couch.

He falls unceremoniously onto the cushions, wearing a stupid, smug grin. You’re breathing hard and trying to quell your heart when he makes grabby hands at you. And, of course, you fall for them, snatched down to his level until his breath fans over your lashes. And you’re slowly wondering who, exactly, is drunk at this moment.

Sylus studies your hands propped on his quads for leverage before peering into your eyes, straight into your damn soul.

“Bet this drunken fool could still make you feel good.” His voice bleeds sex as he runs a languid knuckle down your neck towards the divot between your clavicles, driving his point home.

You shiver. Won’t deny how your stomach hiccups from the thought of it. From the prospect of his voice all muffled between your legs, and the lewd sounds of him eating you out staining the air.

You swallow down your fantasy, hauling yourself back to reality. Swat his hand away, fixing your nightgown.  

“Sylus, baby, need I remind you you’re drunk off your ass? I don’t get down like that.”

He leans back in an easygoing slouch. Gives you a look that borders predatory, blinking slowly with furled lashes like the cat who caught the canary. You feel the low gravel of his voice pooling between your legs, and you hate yourself for growing all hot like this.

“What,” he purrs, tone coy as he disrobes you with his eyes. “We’re two perfectly consenting adults, right? Nothing wrong with having a little fun.”

You heave a sigh. Reluctantly back away from him, ignoring how the frown on his lips makes your chest pinch. You tear through the thick haze of desire that inhabits the air to pinch your nose.

“We can be two perfectly consenting adults in the morning when you’ve slept this shit off, Sy.”

Tonight is one of those rare nights you’ve seen him visibly pout.

“Boring,” your boyfriend whines, hugging one of your decorative pillows to his chest, and collapsing onto his side amongst your couch cushions in the fetal position. You contemplate fighting him for not taking his shoes off.

Instead, you roll your eyes, fishing a throw blanket from your lift-top coffee table. Toss it over his curled-up body, and he kicks it down to his feet like a haughty child.

You bend down to kiss his forehead, to which he flinches away like he’s been burned by cinders. Can’t act like that didn’t hurt a bit, but—

“You’ll love me again in the morning,” you say over your shoulder on your way to your room. Shut the door behind you, slipping beneath your sheets.

You feel a pang of regret for leaving him out there by himself. Despite your body thrumming and your head spinning, you did the right thing. You’d kick yourself if you took advantage of him like that, whether he thought he wanted it or not.

On your back, you scrutinize the textured ceiling through the dusk of your bedroom. He probably won’t even remember this, you muse, turning onto your side to watch the door.

You’ve never moved quicker when a sudden spark hits you, and you comically wrestle out of the sheets to dart towards your bedroom door.

It clicks soundly when you lock it, and you’re unsure if it’s Sylus you don’t trust or yourself.

—

Of course, why the hell did you expect a locked door to stop him?

A gasp is torn from betwixt your lips, sticky in the haze of your room as dawn breaks over the horizon. Your back arches involuntarily, and you scramble for purchase of your sheets, mouth curved around a whimper.

There’s a hot pressure between your legs. Flat, textured, and wet, easing up the span of your pussy, pushing your lips apart in search of the pulsating treasure between.

You bite back a sound, drawing the sheets back to meet a set of carmine eyes glowing in the dimness. You thread your fingers in his hair, unconsciously pulling him closer, and he chuckles huskily, nuzzling against the fat of your inner thigh.

“Mmmm, told you I could make you feel good.”

Your lips work around a response, but he swoops in between your thighs again to lick you good, silencing any objections, and making your body convulse.

TBC on AO3.

international | masterlist | off the grid

[amirasainz]

hooola!! absolutely love the baby alonso series and i’d love to see her playing with penelope maybe?? or one of lando’s nieces!!

hope u have a great day 🫶🫶

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💕

@piastappies

Best friends forever

The bustling paddock was alive with the hum of race car engines, chatter from teams, and fans eagerly seeking autographs. Amidst the energy of the Formula 1 weekend, two tiny figures stood out—Yn and Penelope.

Yn, with her sparkling pink bike that had streamers hanging off the handlebars, was busy adjusting her helmet. Penelope, on her equally dazzling sparkling purple bike, was already riding in circles, her giggles carrying through the air.

"Come on, Yn!" Penelope called, a teasing grin on her face. "You're so slow!"

Yn puffed up her cheeks in mock frustration, tightening the strap on her helmet. "I'm not slow! I just wanna make sure my helmet is perfect! Safety first, P!"

Penelope stopped her bike and crossed her arms dramatically. "We’re in the paddock, silly. No cars are gonna hit us!"

Yn finally climbed onto her bike, wobbling for a moment before finding her balance. "Fine! But you're not gonna win the race!" she said with determination, pedaling furiously to catch up.

The two girls zipped past team garages, their bikes glittering under the sun, leaving a trail of laughter behind them. Engineers paused to watch, some waving and smiling, others snapping quick photos of the adorable sight.

"Careful, girls!" Charles called out, leaning against a garage wall with a cup of coffee.

"We’re being careful!" Penelope yelled back, her voice high-pitched and confident.

"Yeah!" Yn chimed in. "We’re super fast, like Max and Fernando!"

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, just don’t beat them in qualifying, okay?"

The girls burst into laughter, though neither truly understood what qualifying was.

---

Later, Yn and Penelope decided to ditch their bikes and explore on foot. Hand-in-hand, they skipped down the paddock, their little sneakers slapping against the ground in perfect rhythm.

"We should go see the snacks table!" Penelope suggested, her eyes sparkling.

"Snacks!" Yn cheered. "I hope they have gummy bears. And cookies!"

As they approached the Red Bull hospitality, Max was leaning on a railing, chatting with Sergio. He spotted the duo and immediately straightened up, his tough demeanor softening into a wide grin.

"Hey, what are you two up to now?" Max asked, crouching down to their level.

"Snacks!" Penelope declared with a triumphant fist in the air.

Yn nodded eagerly. "Gummy bears!"

Max laughed. "Ah, I see. Well, the snacks are this way, but no eating too much, okay? I need Penelope to cheer for me later, not fall asleep!"

"I’m gonna cheer for Yn’s dad too!" Penelope said proudly, looking at Yn.

"Me too!" Yn added, squeezing Penelope’s hand.

Max ruffled Penelope's hair, a rare, tender smile on his face. "Good girls. Now go on, and don’t cause too much trouble."

---

The next stop on their grand paddock adventure was Fernando’s garage. The two girls peeked in cautiously before scampering inside. Fernando was sitting on a stool, studying data on a screen, but the moment he saw the two tiny intruders, his face lit up.

"Ah, mis pequeñas amigas!" Fernando exclaimed, opening his arms wide.

Yn ran straight to him, throwing her arms around his leg. "Papa! We’re having the best day ever!"

Fernando chuckled, scooping Yn up onto his lap. "I can see that. And Penelope, are you taking good care of my little one?"

Penelope nodded solemnly. "Of course. We’re best friends!"

"Bestest friends!" Yn echoed, reaching out to hold Penelope’s hand again.

Fernando looked at them with soft eyes. "You know, seeing you two like this reminds me of why we do all this. It’s not just about winning—it’s about family and having fun."

"Does that mean you’ll let us ride your car next time?" Penelope asked, her face completely serious.

Fernando laughed heartily. "Not quite, pequeña, but maybe one day."

---

As the day wore on, Yn and Penelope found new ways to entertain themselves. They drew with chalk on the pavement, leaving colorful hearts and stars for everyone to see. They played hide-and-seek around the motorhomes, with Lando and George willingly pretending not to see their bright clothes sticking out from behind crates.

At one point, the two girls sat on a patch of grass, sharing a juice box they had "borrowed" from the hospitality.

"Do you think we’ll ever drive like our dads?" Yn asked, her face thoughtful.

Penelope tilted her head. "I think so. But only if the cars are purple and pink."

Yn nodded solemnly. "Definitely."

---

By the time the sun began to set, the paddock had grown quieter, but the two girls were still full of energy. They convinced Max and Fernando to sit down with them for one last activity: a tea party.

Fernando looked hilariously out of place, holding a tiny plastic teacup between his large fingers, while Max did his best to balance a tiara Penelope had insisted he wear.

"More tea, sir?" Yn asked in an exaggerated posh accent, holding out an empty teapot.

"Why, thank you, madam," Fernando replied, playing along with a dramatic bow of his head.

Max sighed, though he couldn’t hide his grin. "This tea is excellent, Penelope. Did you make it yourself?"

Penelope giggled. "It’s pretend, Papa!"

"Ah, of course," Max said, nodding seriously.

---

As the day came to an end, Yn and Penelope finally started to tire, their eyes drooping as they sat on a bench together, wrapped in a shared blanket.

Fernando and Max watched from a distance, their competitive natures completely set aside as they admired their daughters.

"They really are something, aren’t they?" Fernando said quietly.

Max nodded, a rare softness in his gaze. "Yeah. Makes you realize what really matters."

The two girls held hands even in their sleep, their innocent friendship a bright light in the often chaotic world of Formula 1.

[aureentuluva70]

OK but like...Gethsemane. Gethsemane, guys. I cannot express enough how important Gethsemane is and what happened there. Not to downplay the incredible importance of what happened on the Cross, of course not, but I find people really don't talk about Gethsemane enough in comparison, so I'm going to do it myself.

Gethsemane is found at the foot of the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem. Fitting its name, the garden itself is full of olive trees, a kind of tree which holds great significance in scripture, probably the most revered plant in the bible. It is a symbol of peace, new life, prosperity, and reconciliation. It was the branch of an olive tree that the dove brought back to Noah while on the ark, signifying that the floods were receding. An olive tree is used to describe Jesus's jewish roots as the stem of David, two olive trees are used as symbolism in Revelations, and the people of Israel are likened to an olive tree and its branches. And this is only a few of the many references to olive trees in the Bible.

Olive Trees were and still are highly valued for their oil, which can be retrieved from the olives themselves. Olive oil was used as medicine, for light, for making food, etc. It was a very valuable resource, and still is.

The very name of this garden, Gethsemane, means “Oil Press”, where oil is obtained from the olives-by squeezing and crushing them. Only by being crushed can this precious oil be obtained.

When the olives are first crushed, the liquid begins to leak out, but rather than coming out as the golden-green color that we are used to, it instead comes out as a dark red hue, looking eerily similar to blood.

Only later does the oil turn into its famous golden-green color.

Like the olives being crushed for their oil, Jesus Christ was being pressed and crushed by the weight of the Atonement in the garden, suffering through such incomprehensible anguish and agony that, according to Luke's account, He literally started sweating blood.

KJV Luke 22: 44: "And being in agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was like great drops of blood falling down to the ground."

(Believe it or not, sweating blood is an actual medical condition called Hematridosis, which is caused by an extreme level of stress.)

Another important thing about olive oil's use during Christ's time: it was also used for ceremonial annointing, especially for sacred rituals performed in the temple, consecrating those like priests, kings and prophets. To be annointed means to be chosen or set apart for a specific role by God, often signified by smearing oil on the body or head, and what is the true meaning of Christ's title as the Messiah?

"The Annointed One."

And yet now, here in Gethsemane, Jesus has rather become the olive. He is the one being crushed, for the sins and pains of the world in the shadow of the Mount of Olives, His blood, like the sacred oil, to be used to annoint us, to not only save us but to make us into something greater than we could ever be by ourselves.

Also, very very interesting that Gethsemane is described as a garden. Only so many gardens are mentioned in the Bible, the most well known and one of the only other named gardens being the Garden of Eden, the paradise where humankind was first created and dwelt with God. Eden was a place of beauty, of innocence, and represented humanity's oneness with the Father.

But when Adam and Eve partook of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, that innocence was lost, and thus the first man and woman could no longer dwell in Eden, and were driven out. Because of transgression, humankind had fallen.

In Eden's garden, beneath a tree, mankind lost its innocence resulting in the Fall, and became seperated from its creator, but in another garden millennia later, beneath the olive trees, that same creator would begin the agonizing process required to save us and lift us, mankind, from the consequences of that fall, to bring us back to the true garden of the Lord.

In the place of the Oil Press Jesus Christ allowed Himself to be pressed and crushed in our stead, letting Himself to eventually be led to the cross, taking upon Himself the demands of justice so that we might not suffer a similar fate, if we so choose to follow Him.

That is what happened in Gethsemane.

[pcr-alice]

DPxDC - Subtle Signs

also on AO3

Danny slipped through the shadows quickly, trusting the alarms to cover the noise of his footsteps. He still wasn’t fully used to having his wakizashi hooked to his back again after all this time. It was throwing off his balance. Subtly, but enough to matter. He had considered leaving it behind when he had to run (again). But seeing as he couldn’t exactly get rid of the...gift...his time with the Fentons had given him, he might as well keep the one from his time with the League of Assassins, too. Who would have guessed a sword from a literal death cult would end up being one of his least death-touched possessions.

He reached what remained of the entrance to the now fully crippled GIW facility and paused. There was something wrong. The smallest pressure in his ears, the faintest blur through the sky, the slightest feeling that someone – multiple someones – had entered his space. He crouched further into the shadows and mentally mapped out several escape routes.

What he wasn’t expecting was for one of those someones to drop from the sky. Nor for them to be dressed in bright colors, nor for them to be masked, nor for them to –

“Damian?”

The name was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Directly between two blares of the alarm. Clearly loud enough for that someone to have heard, judging by the way they jerked into a fighting stance and stared directly at his hiding place. They drew a katana that Danny would recognize anywhere and leveled it at him aggressively.

“Show yourself!”

Two green slits appeared from the darkness next to the collapsed entryway. Damian tensed, shifting into a more agile stance and subtly tapping his wrist comm for backup. The glowing eyes shifted, as if the head they were attached to was moving. They inched forward toward the light but didn’t cross the threshold. A single hand extended from the darkness, clenching a long, thin sheathed blade. A wakizashi, judging by the length and curve, with minimal decoration on the mounting save for...

“Danyal?”

Damian dropped his guard, katana dipping to point at the ground in front of him. A figure crept into the light, taking up their own relaxed stance, sheathed blade still held in their off hand. Their eyes were bright Lazarus green, and their hair was subtly glowing white, barely visible under a hood. Their foot was slightly out of position, arm just barely low of where it should be, all still ingrained in muscle memory to perfectly complement their mismatched heights and Damian’s own style while fighting at his side. There was no doubt. That face was etched into his memory, his very being. He would recognize it anywhere. This was Danyal.

Then the wakizashi was drawn. Danyal’s green eyes flicked to Damian’s right in panic just as he heard the smallest crunch of dirt. He tilted his katana up in front of his face and raised his other hand to his side firmly, signaling Father and Grayson to stay back.

They did. But they spread out to better form a perimeter around this unknown (to them) armed (more than he seemed) potential threat (if he wanted to be). And they watched intently, ready to pick up on even the smallest detail. He would have to be cautious. His subtle head shift let the others know he knew Cain and Brown just landed on his other side. Danyal’s eye flick meant he saw them, too.

“How are you here, Danyal? You died.”

“You should know better than most, Damian. Death is not always final.”

Damian was off. Cass noticed it immediately. His stance was different. He was tense in a way she’d never seen him before. His words were hesitant, and when he did speak, his fingers twitched around his katana’s grip. He gave them a small flick with his hand, signaling for them to stay back, then took a step forward. The other boy – Danyal, she presumed – followed his lead step for step, never dropping his guard, even if his stance was slightly imperfect. His hands twitched even more than Damian’s.

Then he flinched and took a step back, eyes snapping to where Batman had taken a step forward. Damian scowled angrily.

“Stay back, Father!”

Cass hadn’t heard that much venom in his voice for many years. Nor had he ever broken codename protocol while they were in costume. Nor had he ever fidgeted or been this nervous. His emotions were strong, barely restrained, confused and angry and somehow eager. He wanted to charge forward, but for what she didn’t know. He was barely holding himself back.

The other boy was unfamiliar, so she had no reference. She couldn’t even see his full face. But he had to be even more nervous than Damian with the way his whole body squirmed minutely when his hands twitched. His anger was colder, deeper, an undercurrent compared to Damian’s storm. There was no confusion, not even at ‘Father’, but there was fear, a suffocating amount of it. He was unsure of himself. Wanting to charge like Damian, but wanting to run perhaps even more. The indecision left him rooted to the spot.

“Why are you here, Danyal?”

“Tying up some loose ends. You?”

“Investigating the destruction of government facilities on behalf of the League.”

Danyal tensed at that.

“The Justice League,” Damian was quick to clarify.

Danyal took that even worse. He curled into himself, the fear overwhelming all his other emotions, his eyes going narrow and glowing a brighter, somehow harsher green. Cass spared a glance back to Damian, whose twitching had spread to his non-sword hand now. Worry was breaking through both his anger and confusion. Movement out of the corner of her eye made her look back to Danyal, who had begun to slide back towards the shadows.

“Danyal, wait!” Damian stepped forward, and to her surprise Danyal did in fact stop moving. “Why are you running?”

He stopped twitching entirely and stared Damian down.

“I will not be taken by either of your Leagues.”

That was confirmation that he was familiar with the League of Assassins, perhaps a former member like Damian.

“The League of Assassins has been dismantled. I can guarantee the Justice League will not harm you.”

“Yet you are here on their behalf.”

“I do not understand, Danyal.”

He wasn’t alone in that. Cass risked a glance to the others. Steph was firmly at her side, waiting for a signal to get involved. Bruce was tense, confused but calculating, processing the apparent familiarity not just with the League, but with Damian and his identity. Dick was clearly confused too, but the concerned for his little brother was even clearer.

“There is much you don’t understand, Damian.”

“Then tell me.”

Damian’s hand gave the smallest of twitches before he charged forward at Danyal, who charged back as if he were expecting it. But this wasn’t one of his normal attack patterns. He was slower and more rigid. This wasn’t right. She raised her arm to Spoiler’s chest, stopping her from joining the battle, her fist clenched to signal the others to hold. Spoiler glanced at her, confused, but stayed at her side. Batman and Nightwing heeded her signal as well after taking a few steps forward.

Their blades clashed as they pressed together, faces nearly touching. Cass swore she saw Danyal’s lips move briefly before they pushed each other back, both already angling for their next attack. What followed was a set of perfect strikes and parries, one for one, back and forth, all much below what she knew Damian’s speed and strength to be. All telegraphed well in advance. Until Danyal pivoted unexpectedly, twisting directly into the path of Damian’s katana.

She saw Damian’s shock, his fear, saw him try to pull back his strike, but it was too late. Danyal raised an arm to shield himself from the blow that was about to cleave into his flesh, but he wasn’t worried. Wasn’t surprised or scared, just...sad?

The katana didn’t hit. A bright green armor plate flashed into existence on Danyal’s arm, and Damian’s blade bounced off it with a clang, vibrating through his arm and tipping him off balance. Danyal dropped his weight and kicked forward, hitting Damian in the chest and knocking him backwards much farther than expected.

Damian twisted in the air and rolled as he hit the ground, leaping back into a defensive stance. Cass saw no anger, just surprise and worry and more confusion. She stomped her foot and shook her fist, insisting that everyone keep holding back. This brought Danyal’s attention to her.

His eyes flicked over to pierce into her. She felt seen, and she couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her spine. He didn’t look at her with any emotion she expected, merely annoyance. He flicked his eyes back to Damian after sparing her a second at most, and then he was empty. No emotion at all. Nothing. Cass gasped. She felt Steph press against her arm gently, a question. She pressed back in response, still holding her fist. Steph placed a hand on her back, silently grounding her.

With Danyal not giving her anything, she shifted her focus back to Damian. He tilted his katana to look at the blade, which she could tell even from a distance had been greatly dulled where it had made contact with the phantom armor. When he pulled his hand away from his ribs, she could see small drops of frost fall to the ground.

“Danyal...when did –”

“I have never set foot in the Lazarus Pits.”

Damian dropped his arms to his side. Cass could see more shock on him now than any emotion she’d read on him ever before. He’d never left himself so open and unguarded at any time she could remember. Despite all that – or perhaps because of it – his hands kept twitching.

“How…”

“I told you, Damian. You don’t even understand just how little you don’t understand.”

Despite not reading any nervousness from Danyal – no emotions at all – his hands kept twitching.

“Then tell me.”

Damian’s voice was soft, more vulnerable than it had ever been. His off hand kept twitching in the same pattern, over and over.

“I can’t.”

Danyal took a step backwards toward the shadows. Damian stepped forward and yelled.

“Danyal, please! I want to understand!”

But he took another step backward, his own off hand twitching in the same pattern as Damian’s.

“Goodbye, Damian.”

Damian took another step forward and raised his hands to his side in a peaceful gesture.

“I will understand, Danyal.”

He switched to his first language, the one he had spoken as a child, and pleaded.

“I swear it on the first star’s light, on the first bird’s song.”

Danyal flinched mid-step. And his facade shattered. Emotions burst through stronger than before. Scared and exhausted and angry, but the tiniest sliver of hope pushing past the wariness. His head tilted up, letting the light pierce the shadow of his hood to reveal bright white hair that somehow shifted under its cloth covering. And his face looked nearly identical to Damian’s.

His flurry of emotions slowly, excruciatingly slowly, steadied as the tension in his body loosened. She watched him take a deep breath and let it out, emotions shifting into pure determination. His off hand twitched again and – no, not a twitch!

They had been signaling to each other.

And then they were charging again. Cass dropped her arm and wrapped it around Steph’s, who tensed at the two boys’ movement, but relaxed as Cass leaned against her. Batman and Nightwing did charge. It was clear they wouldn’t make it in time, even if Danyal’s speed weren’t obviously enhanced.

The boys flipped their swords to hold them backhand and twisted them such that the dull end faced forward. They collided harshly, sword arms clasping around each others shoulders. Danyal knocked Damian back a step, but they held each other tightly, neither allowing the other to fall. Batman and Nightwing stuttered to a stop several feet away and stared in surprised confusion as the boys raised their off hands to cradle each others necks and press their foreheads together.

“I missed you, Brother.”

[antiquarianfics]

Marry me? Nah. Marry me? Yeah.

4 times Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you refuse. 1 time Bucky Barnes asks you to marry him and you accept.

A/N: I have been working on this for the last day, so enjoy. HOWEVER, I wrote it on my phone and refuse to proof it. Warning(s): Some canon level violence, swearing. Note: I do not own Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to steal or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

—

Proposal 1

The first time Bucky Barnes proposes to you, you aren’t even dating. The two of you are paired on a mission to dismantle a HYDRA base hidden deep in the Appalachian Mountains in Kentucky. You had met before but never shared more than polite conversation. Steve had assured Bucky you weren’t scared of him, but that you wouldn’t push him to speak with you. Bucky never quite believed him, so he never attempted to converse with you either.

However, when you’re paired on this mission, you take that as the go-ahead to finally speak to him.

“So, Barnes,” you say, nudging his shoulder with your own, “guess we’ve got to come up with more conversation topics than the weather.”

“Guess so,” he replies.

It is during the mission he proposes. There are more HYDRA agents active than expected, and they come at the two of you guns blazing while you’re distracted setting up an explosive at a structural point of the complex.

“Y/L/N,” Bucky says to grab your attention, “we’ve got company.”

You bite your lip, finishing your task before standing and pulling your rifle from your back, preparing yourself for a fight.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ve got this one,” you tease, shooting him a wink before unleashing precise kill shots before Bucky even thinks to pull his own trigger. After taking out a dozen soldiers, a few manage to get close to you, and you hit one in the head with the butt of your gun and then quickly pull a knife from a thigh holster while pivoting on your foot to slit another’s throat. You shoot the unconscious soldier in the head for good measure before wiping your knife on your pants.

With your knife returned to its home on your thigh, you look up at Bucky who is staring at you with a dumbfounded, albeit impressed, look on his face. You had taken out 14 men on your own. He was in love.

The words “marry me” slipped past his lips before he could stop them, and you laugh.

“Maybe buy me dinner first, Sarge.”

Proposal 2

The second time Bucky Barnes proposes to you, you’re comforting him after a nightmare. It is late at night, at the point it was really morning, and you happen to hear his screams through his bedroom door.

You stop at his door, letting a frown set on your face before reaching out for his doorknob. You hesitate before opening it, wondering if he’ll appreciate you barging in on him in such a vulnerable state. Then, he screams again—louder—and you turn the doorknob, letting yourself in.

The sight you’re met with is heartbreaking. Bucky is tossing and turning, his sheets bunched at his feet, comforter on the ground. He’s sweating buckets and whimpering what sounds like, “Please, no. Not the chair. Please!” over and over again. You choke back a sob before crossing over to him, gently lying a comforting hand on his shoulder and calling out his name.

“Bucky, honey, wake up. It’s just a dream, hun.”

The touch and sudden sound wake him up from what is truly a light sleep. Bucky shoots up into a sitting position, right hand shooting out to grab the hand touching him, and eyes darting around the room until they land on you.

“Shh,” you coo, “you’re okay, Bucky. It’s me, Y/N. It was just a dream. You’re safe.”

Bucky’s heart rate slows to a normal pace, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N?” He asks hesitantly. “W-what are you doing here?” His voice is small, like a terrified child’s, and you can’t help but frown at the thought.

You let your hand move to cup his face, noting that he relaxes at the gentle touch, leaning his face ever so slightly into your touch.

“I was headed to the kitchen and I heard you scream. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

He nods, eyes searching yours for some sort of anger or resentment for bothering you. He doesn’t find any.

“Can I do anything to make you feel better?” You ask kindly.

“Um,” Bucky says, voice shaky. “Would you mind—you don’t have to—but would you mind staying with me? Only if you want.”

You smile kindly, pressing a comforting kiss to his cheek before climbing into his bed with him, pulling his head close to your chest.

“When I was little, I lived in a house in the woods for a while,” you say randomly, catching Bucky’s attention. His eyebrows scrunch together in some sort of confusion, but he says nothing. “At dinner one night, I look out the glass door onto the porch. Wanna know what I saw?”

Bucky hums his agreement as your hand works it’s way into his hair and your fingers begin to massage his scalp.

“4 raccoons!” You exclaim. “3 babies and a mama. We had a toddler slide on the porch at the time,” you continue, “and the baby raccoons kept climbing the little ladder and sliding down. The mama just sat a little bit away and watched and stole cat food occasionally.”

Bucky chuckles, finding your story cute but also recognizing your attempt to distract and soothe him after his nightmare. He appreciates it more than he himself understands; he is comforted by your voice more than he feels he should be. He lets the proposal slip a second time: “Marry me?”

You grin and press a kiss to his head.

“Not yet, hun.”

Proposal 3

The third proposal comes after the two of you begin dating.

Bucky takes you out on a date to a little coffee shop in Brooklyn you both had become fond of. You’re standing to the side of the café, out of the way, waiting on your order. Bucky has his right arm around your shoulders while you lean into him; his left hand stuck in his jacket pocket.

“So Natasha’s screaming at Clint to show himself so that she can kill him, right? Like, she was so fucking pissed at him. And Clint is in the fucking air vents—like those big ones people crawl through in action movies—hiding from her. Over a remote, Bucky!” You excitedly recount one of the most ridiculous encounters you’ve ever had with the Avengers to your boyfriend who is quietly listening with a fond smile.

“Like, ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ my ass,” you scoff. You’re about to add another thought to the discussion when you hear someone else’s conversation from a few feet away.

Bucky tenses. You tense.

“Personally, I think they should’ve carted him off to the South, or somethin’, and put him in the chair,” a younger man—college age—says. “The death penalty, y’know? An eye for an eye, and all that. I mean, the guy killed a lot of people.”

“Fuck, man,” his companion, another college aged man, says. “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh? I mean, he’s also like a war hero and a prisoner of war.”

“He killed innocent people, man. Like, people’s kids and shit.”

“I guess.”

Bucky clenches his jaw, and he also tightens his grip on your waist when he feels you start to move away from him.

“It’s fine, doll,” he assures you, but he doesn’t seem fine to you.

The barista calls out “Barnes” and Bucky kisses the top of your head before moving to grab your drinks. You, however, take the opportunity to address the disrespectful boys while your boyfriend isn’t holding you back.

“Excuse me,” you say, walking up to them.

“Fuck!” One says, jumping a little. “You’re an Avenger.”

“Mhmm,” you agree. “So is Sergeant Barnes who you so innocently suggested deserves the chair.” You jam a finger into his chest.

“You have absolutely no fucking right to talk about him that way. He gave his life for this fucking country; fought alongside your grandparents. The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. Shit. It’s not like my opinion is gonna change anything.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel Bucky’s hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you away from the college kids and into his side. He leans close to your ear to whisper, “Doll, it’s fine. Come on.”

He pulls you out of the coffee shop before you have time to protest.

Walking down the street, you’re ranting, letting your arms flail around angrily.

“What the actual fuck is their problem?! You can have your obviously wrong opinions, but why would you express them so loudly in front of the person you’re talking about? You’re a fucking Avenger. You’re a good man. Why would they pardon you if you weren’t? Why would the Avengers adopt you as one of our own if you weren’t? Pieces of shit! Hateful, fascist, brain dead, ungrateful, military-hating, assholes!”

Bucky can’t help but laugh at your insults, and he can’t help but feel flattered that you care enough to defend him.

“Sweetheart, it’s really fine. I’m used to it,” he assures you, finally handing you your coffee he’d been balancing in his hand.

You take it, but shoot him an incredulous look.

“Like hell it’s okay! You deserve better than that bullshit, Bucky. You deserve to go out on a date with your girlfriend without being fucking harassed.”

Bucky pulls you into his side, kissing your head like he had earlier, and murmurs into your hair his third proposal.

“Marry me.”

You smile softly.

“Nah,” you say, leaning into his hold. He laughs.

Proposal 4

The fourth time Bucky proposes to you, it’s less direct.

In fact, you’re in the field, lying on your back in Bucky’s arms while he frantically puts pressure on a bullet wound in your gut.

“Steve,” he says into the coms, “Y/N’s down. She got shot. I’ve got to get her back to the jet.”

“Go,” Steve responds quickly, “I’ll cover you.”

Bucky’s attention falls to you, grimacing at the blood covering his hands.

“Hold on, baby. I’ve got you,” he says, lifting you into his arms as gently as you can.

“I’m fiiinnneee,” you slur, unsteadily and awkwardly reaching to pat his face. Your action, meant to be comforting, only adds to your boyfriend’s anxiety.

“Doll, you’ve been shot, and it isn’t a clean wound.”

“That’s nothin’!”

Bucky grunts indignantly in response.

Finally, he gets you back to the jet, moving through the aircraft quickly to get you to a stretcher to triage you best he can. When there is nothing more he can do, he holds your hand, doing his best not to cry or show how scared he is.

“Y/N, stay awake for me, alright?” He pleads, squeezing your hand.

Your eyes flutter open and you smile goofily.

“No worries, Doll,” you giggle as you call him by the pet name he reserves for you. “I’m A-Okay.”

Bucky scoffs.

“You’re bleeding out.”

“You fixed me.”

“Not fully; I put a bandaid on you really.”

“Silly. Bandaids fix you!” You try to comfort, but you fall into a laughing fit.

“Doll, I need you to take this seriously so you make it. You’ve gotta marry me.”

“You didn’t ask me to!” You say, narrowing your eyes and pointing accusingly.

Bucky smiles at your antics.

“Marry me, Doll?”

You smile fondly as you stare up at Bucky.

“Ask me again when I’m not bleeding out.”

Proposal 5

The fifth time Bucky Barnes proposes to you is the last time.

You convince the super soldier to go hiking with you; you argue he deserves to sit and watch a waterfall with his girlfriend. He gives in easily because you’re not easy for him to say no to.

The two of you find a local hiking trail that leads to a decent sized waterfall, and you’re pleased to find the trail is mostly deserted. You only run into a few stray hikers along the trail.

Bucky smiles as you hike, watching as you excitedly stop to watch centipedes cross the path, or point out woodpeckers, or smell flowers. Finally, the two of you reach the waterfall and you squeal in excitement, running a few paces ahead of Bucky and jumping to let out some excited energy.

“Buck, look! It’s gorgeous!”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, slowing to a stop behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin in the crook of your neck.

The two of you stand like that, in each other’s embrace, for a few minutes, watching the waterfall, listening to nature around you.

“Thank you for coming up here with with me,” you say, turning around to place a grateful kiss on Bucky’s lips. He gently returns the kiss before pulling away.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

You peck his lips again before turning back to the waterfall.

“Look!” You say upon turning around. “Bucky, a rainbow!” The spray of the water and the beams of sunlight meet to display a rainbow in front of you.

When Bucky doesn’t respond, you curiously turn around.

“Bucky? Oh!”

Bucky is on one knee, a ring box open in his hands, held out to you.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

There is no speech, there is no absurd gesture. There is just Bucky, and there is just a question.

It’s perfect.

“Yes.”

“Finally.”

[lexawritex]

aeri uchinaga headcanon

meangirl!aeri x dancer!fem!reader

⚠️ smut, light bullying, lots of swearing

★ aeri sees you differently after seeing you dance.

a/n: rushed, im so bad at writing smut, did not proofread

- you lived a normal life—good family, good friends, good grades, and a decent reputation on campus. but among all the good things in your life, one flaw stood out: your bad eyesight. you blamed it on the countless hours spent staring at screens, whether working on projects or losing yourself in games.

- that's why when you forgot to put on your glasses and rummaged to find it in your bag, you bumped into a person causing them to fall on the ground.

- you heard a yelp as the person hit the cold floor, followed by gasps echoing around you. scrambling to find your glasses, you slipped them on, only for your heart to sink and your breath to catch in your chest at the sight of the person sprawled on the ground.

- the long, bright pink hair made it impossible not to recognize her. aeri uchinaga. she was on the ground, glaring up at you while her crew of three girls stood behind her, their faces frozen in shock.

- your voice caught in your throat, the apologies you wanted to spill refused to come out. instead, you bent down to her level, extending a hand to help her up, only for her to swat it away.

- aeri looked at you with such a sharp look that if looks could kill, you were stabbed mercilessly everywhere.

- "are you blind-- given your glasses, i think you are! watch where you're going next time and wear your glasses if you're so blind, gosh!"

- the pink-haired woman exclaimed sharply before standing up and brushing past you, intentionally bumping your shoulder. all you could do was watch as she and her crew walked away, vanishing into the sea of students crowding the hallway.

- ever since that encounter, aeri never left you alone. it seemed that incident triggered something in her, making you her next victim. unfortunately, most of your classes were with her, turning school into a daily struggle. her endless teasing made life miserable—hiding your belongings during class, shoving you against your locker as she passed, or sticking out her foot to trip you during lunch.

- however, the teasing came to a halt when you stopped attending regular classes and started frequenting the gym. you had the privilege of being excused from classes to prepare for an upcoming dance competition, representing your school.

- you'd have your peaceful lunch outside the campus, away from the four disasters in your precious school life.

- but that peace didn’t last long. now, you found yourself making eye contact with the devil herself—aeri—sitting on the bleachers with her crew. she stared at you with her usual evil smirk before breaking eye contact, her gaze trailing down to scan you. the intensity of her stare left you feeling self-conscious throughout your entire practice.

- forcing yourself to ignore her presence—which surprisingly worked—you managed to finish the last day of practice successfully. after freshening up and ridding yourself of the sweaty state from earlier, you bid goodbye to your group and headed out.

- what you thought was a peaceful walk home turned out to be wrong.

- "hey there, y/nnie." your heart stopped at the sound of that familiar, mocking voice as its owner stepped out from the corridor.

- aeri, all alone, wore that smirk that seemed permanently etched on her face whenever you saw her. she strode confidently toward your almost retreating figure. how ironic—it was you who was taller, yet every time you crossed paths, she made you feel as though she towered over you.

- "didn't know you could move like that. why didn't you tell me you could be sexy, hm?" she said, her tone raspy and laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

- before you could even respond, she stepped closer, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder as she leaned in. her warm breath brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

- "take care out there, sexy," she murmured, her voice low and teasing, before turning on her heel and walking away.

- ever since that weirdly hot and confusing night, aeri became unusually touchy whenever she was near. she would brush her hands against your body as she passed by, her touches lingering just enough to leave you flustered. it didn’t help that, despite her past mistreatments, you couldn’t deny how attractive you found her.

- on the day of your competition, you stood on stage, preparing to perform. as your eyes scanned the loud, cheering crowd, they landed on a familiar head of pink hair. your eyes widened in surprise—you hadn’t expected her to be here.

- you managed to survive the entire routine, pushing aside the way her presence made you feel self-conscious. instead, you focused on the music and the rhythm, allowing yourself to enjoy the time you had on stage.

- upon reaching backstage, you were greeted by the cheers of your teammates, all of them struggling to catch their breaths, which you mirrored. despite the exhaustion, you all huddled together, sharing a group hug—celebrating your successful performance.

- now, you were at a club with your team, celebrating your victory. it was clear that your team had won, and to mark the occasion, your leader had dragged everyone out to the club with the promise of covering the drinks.

- aeri happened to be at the same club, and upon spotting your tall figure vibing freely on the dance floor, a smirk crept onto her lips. she watched you from a distance, her gaze never leaving you.

- she watched as you transformed from sober to wild on the dance floor, clearly drunk from the drinks you'd had. your movements became freer, and she couldn't help but smirk at the sight of you letting loose.

- "she knows how to party, huh?" karina, one of aeri's friends, remarked as she observed your drunken movements. aeri nodded, her gaze lingering for a moment before she shifted her attention back to the group she was with, who had now started playing cards.

- however, as soon as she took her eyes off you, a girl approached and began dancing dangerously close. your bodies were almost touching as the slow music played, the rhythm urging her on. she eyed you with hooded, intoxicated eyes, matching the haze of your own drunkenness.

- one of aeri's friends, winter, noticed the scene and slapped a hand on the pink-haired woman's arm. "holy cow, ain't no way that loser bagged a hot chick before me!" she exclaimed, standing up quickly and jogging toward the dance floor.

- aeri whipped her head around, her eyes landing on your figure as you danced dangerously close with someone. a flash of irritation crossed her face—she didn’t like that one bit.

- she downed her drink in one go, slamming the glass onto the table before strutting toward your drunken figure with a determined stride.

- upon reaching you, she discreetly pushed the woman aside and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you close as she moved in sync with the slow music. her eyes mockingly glanced at the woman, who only rolled her eyes before turning and walking away, clearly unimpressed.

- slightly sobering up from the proximity, you stopped dancing and looked at aeri with confusion, unsure of what was happening. "aeri? what are you doing?"

- the woman rolled her eyes, pulling her hands from your shoulders and gripping your wrist to yank you toward the bathroom. confused and drunk, you stumbled after her, feeling powerless in the situation, and let yourself be pushed into a cubicle.

- "w-what are you doing, aeri?" you nervously asked, your voice shaky as the woman stood close, her hooded eyes fixed on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

- "i don't know either but one thing for sure is, you made me so fucking hot and bothered and you need to fix it right now." pushing you back onto the covered toilet seat, she straddled you without hesitation and placed her hands firmly on your shoulders. her touch was electrifying, and her gaze held you captive.

- your frustration gave way to a rush of desire as you leaned in and claimed her lips, the taste of her mouth sending a rush of satisfaction through you. a soft hum of satisfaction escaped her chest as your lips moved in a hungry dance, eagerly exploring every contour of each other.

- you boldy bit her lower lip, causing the woman to release a moan. using this opportunity to slip your tongue and claim dominance as your tongues danced against each other. when your lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, you pulled away, creating string of saliva.

- aeri chuckled and whispered, "that's so fucking hot." you smirked and claimed her lips once more, this time much more aggressive. your hands made its way to her hips, gripping it, pulling her closer. her arms snaked around your neck as she slowly grinded against you. the action made you pull back to release a groan. aeri chuckled at this reaction and continued grinding against you, loving the sounds you made.

- your hooded eyes mirrored her lust-fille ones as she moved, never breaking your eye contact. deciding to break the eye contact, your head moved to her neck as you left wet kisses on the her soft skin.

- aeri moaned and tilted her neck, giving you more access. your wet kisses turned to soft bites and gradually, harsh ones—sucking and kissing. it would leave very obvious marks but aeri was too sexually drunk to care.

- pulling away, you looked at the marks you made and smirked in pride. aeri paused, her gaze lingering on your proud smirk before she rolled her eyes and gently slapped your cheek, pulling your attention toward her.

- she took a good look at your face and chuckled. "fuck, you're actually so damn hot. i think i was the blind one for not seein that." she said, causing you to laugh.

- "really? you're only saying that after we made out?" you shook your head. aeri looked at you before smirking.

- "wouldn't it be so fucking hot if you fuck me with your glasses on?" she whispered, licking your earlobe which sent you shivers down your spine.

- you chuckled at her idea, "i wouldn't be able to see you then 'cause the fog would block my vision." aeri rolled her eyes and groaned, pushing her head back.

- "i almost forgot that you can be such a nerd—a hot nerd." she said, causing you to laugh. despite the situation, you were still in the same position, oddly finding it more comfortable than you'd expected. maybe because you got used to her touch.

- after that hot scene in the bathroom, you and aeri were never the same as before. instead of pushing you against your locker, she'd push you into the janitor's closet and make out with you. in some cases, she'd go to the gym, waiting for you to finish your training before pouncing at you once you both were left alone.

- as much as you liked the attention aeri was giving you, it made you confused. what were you two called? not friends, but also not lovers. maybe fuck buddies but you were starting to fall for the woman and it wasn't helping at all.

- on a cold saturday night, you trapped yourself in your dorm. you were all alone, left with your raging thoughts and the slight pain whenever you thought of the pink haired woman. she probably just considers you as a good fuck and you're here catching feelings.

- a notification popped up on your phone, and your eyes caught sight of aeri's picture on the screen. it was a message from her, inviting you to a party at her house that night. your hand instinctively moved to decline, but then an idea sparked in your mind, and you paused, contemplating the opportunity.

- why not use the party as an opportunity to confront aeri and clarify your relationship? it could be the chance to finally get something out of her and calm the storm of confusion that’s been swirling in your mind.

- you pulled up into her house wearing the sluttiest clothes a woman like you could wear, a leather jacket barely covering the sports bra underneath and a baggy pants that were slightly sagging down to show off your calvin kleins. you also decided to wear your glasses, feeling lazy to put on contacts.

- it seemed your outfit caught the attention of the women, who immediately crowded you and began making advances. noticing the commotion, aeri watched from a distance, her brows furrowed in reaction. she strutted in, "what the he—" she was cut off upon seeing you in what she believes is the most hottest thing you ever wore.

- she bit her lip as she approached, her presence immediately causing the women to back down in defeat. your eyes met hers who wore the familiar dark, eyes clouding in lust.

- "did you dress up for me, sexy?" aeri whispered as she led you to her kitchen, grabbing a drink for you. graciously accepting it, you took a gulp, noticing her gaze lingering on your neck, a quiet intensity in her eyes.

- you decided to ignore her advances, hoping to frustrate her and get a reaction. as aeri led you to her group, introducing you to her friends, you acted oblivious to her touches. her brows furrowed in subtle frustration as you continued engaging with her friends, seemingly unaware of her hints.

- aeri had never felt so hot and bothered in her life. she desperately wanted to dump her cold drink on you, but quickly dismissed the idea—it would just make you smell like beer, and she didn’t want that. she watched you, grinning like a fool at one of her friends, her gaze narrowing into a glare, frustration building within her.

- winter noticed it and chuckled, shaking her head "just date her or something, stop glaring at her like a bitch." the woman whispered. "can't blame the women though, they said dancers are a good fuck." winter added to which aeri rolled her eyes but the former was right. the amount of strength, agility and breathing control you must have, aeri felt a pool between her legs as she imagined you and her again.

- aeri eventually stormed off to her room, trying to cool her hot head and the heat in between her legs. she was already horny the moment she saw you in that clothing and ignoring her only worsened her situation.

- she sat on her bed, contemplating whether or not she'd call you but you were busy having fun out there. she'd look like a dog in heat begging to be fucked by you.

- with a groan, aeri opened her legs as her hand crawled in her soaking panties. a moan escaped her lips and eventually, your name as she pictures you pounding her pussy whilst wearing your glasses. gripping the sheets, she was close to her climax as her fingers moved in and out at a fast pace.

- in search of aeri, you found yourself outside her room listening to her moans and your name being called. your immediately felt heat in your core as you listened to her reach her climax. the moans stopped and the door opened, revealing a blushing aeri.

- her eyes widened at the sight of you and you mirrored the same expression, having been caught listening to her mastubate. however, you were too turned on to care about being caught so you pushed her back in and locked the door behind you. a hungry gaze locked onto hers as she stepped back, never breaking eye contact.

- "tell me you want it, i'll give it to you." you whispered, approaching her figure who stood just at the edge of her bed.

- aeri lifted a hand to caress your cheeks. your hand held hers, leading it to your lips as you gave it a soft kiss whilst sharing an intense gaze.

- "i want you, y/n."

- that's what all it takes to push her on the bed, your figure hovering on top of her. lips colliding to share a passionate kiss which soon turned into one of hunger, eager to fill the hole in each other.

- your jacket was now discarded, leaving you in your sports bra and your pants whilst aeri laid almost bare underneath you. her matching lace underwear made her more desiring as if she already isn't with her sounds that were music to your ears.

- aeri watched as you unbuckled your belt, lip biting as her eyes trailed down your lean build. taking the pants off, her eyes widened at the noticeable bulge on your crotch. her eyes met yours and you chuckled at her reaction.

- "i'm wearing a strap, cutie." you casually said.

- soon you found yourself thrusting into aeri with an almost animalistic pace which sent the woman into a moaning mess, her nails digging into your skin. the bed creaking, aeri's loud moans and your name being called like a chant, it was music.

- you paused just as aeri was about to reach her climax which she yelled a loud, "fuck!" you only chuckled and gripped her hips, turning her on her stomach.

- the woman, almost automatically, lifted her butt, her face planted on the pillow. you entered her, eliciting a loud moan from her as you thrusted into her already wet pussy.

- aeri felt like she was in heaven with how you good you fucked her and you were wearing your glasses, you looked so hot pounding into her with your fogged up glasses.

- the rest of the party was spent in aeri's room, the both of you doing every position you knew in every corner of her room.

- however, the thick fog hanging over your relationship remained, and aeri was determined to clear it. she couldn’t stand seeing other girls throw themselves at you as you gradually gained popularity on campus.

- aeri walked toward you with determination, her hands gripping tightly onto your arm as she pulled you away from the girl you were talking to.

- "aeri? what are you doing?" you asked, but she didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the girl you had been talking to. the girl, sensing the tension, met aeri’s glare with equal intensity.

- "i'm still talking to her, can't you see?" the girl said, her tone sharp, but aeri only smiled mockingly, her eyes never leaving the girl.

- "and I'm talking to her now, so." aeri said, making a dismissive gesture with her hand, her smirk never wavering.

- "just because you're popular and all, doesn't mean you can do whatever you want," the girl shot back, but aeri just rolled her eyes, clearly unfazed by the comment.

- "blah, blah, blah. I'm pregnant and she's the father, so don't intervene between couples," aeri said nonchalantly, leaving the girl stunned and confused. without waiting for a response, aeri dragged you toward the empty gym.

- you, equally as confused, looked at aeri before asking, "you're pregnant? with who?" aeri slapped you gently, her eyes narrowing as she made you look at her, only leaving you even more confused.

- "you're the only one who fucked me, that's impossible. anyways, i am pregnant yes, but." she held a hand up, stopping you from speaking.

- she continued, "that was love we made that night and now i bore love and obsession towards you and you have to take responsibility for it." she said with a grin, observing as your expression shifted from confusion to sudden realization.

- "oh...oh!" aeri nodded.

- your eyes met hers and it was looking at you with softness you've never seen before. it made you feel warm and fuzzy that it made you giddy. smiling like a fool as you looked down, your cheeks reddening. aeri marvelled at the sight and laughed heartily at your reaction. her laugh echoed in your ear, it was genuine and infectious and you love to hear it more.

- "can i court you then, miss aeri uchinaga?" you asked, looking up to meet hers.

- aeri nodded, and you both shared a long hug, the insecurities between you dissipating as the thick fog in your relationship finally cleared.

♡

[vaguely-concerned]

to be distressingly earnest for a moment, I cannot applaud sylvia feketekuty enough for how incredibly well she balances comedy and actual emotional impact in emmrich's storyline. it's such a fine line to walk as a writer, and she does it perfectly to my mind. johanna hezenkoss is a wonderfully cartoonish heightened comedy character whose literal stated goal is world domination by means of necromancy and also this giant skeleton mecha monster I built. her main redeeming quality is that she's SO entertaining and perfectly unrepentantly herself at every turn and never ever does she grow anything we might readily recognize as a conscience; she may be a monster but in such a marvellous way you simply cannot begrudge her for it. we are going full tilt into the yzma zone here and never looking back. and yet! emmrich's reactions to her, and the lingering emotional fallout of their friendship ending clinging to everything, are very real and grounded and genuine, and her functionality in the narrative rock solid. it's still funny the whole way through, but also weirdly poignant.

she is a blunt archetype, but her presence causes nuance in other places. it tests emmrich's inherent kindness to show some of the flaws running through it. it shows quirks in his character you couldn't get at otherwise, exposes what the lines of temptation can get their hooks in him even in all his genuine basic well-meaningness way before the lich storyline gets fully unveiled -- that there is something in him that was drawn to her ambition and unceasing intellectual exploration of the world, even when it edged up on ruthless; that it was only when the line was openly crossed he put his foot down for good. it exposes the darker side of nevarra's political life, especially the mortalitasi -- that it would only take a handful of them forsaking their oaths and morals and deciding that ruling from behind the throne isn't enough. in the words of emmrich, how easily it would make them a new tevinter, except with a skeleton army so arguably much more metal. the slope is slippery. watch where you put your feet, watcher.

and johanna's cheerful and unrepentant spider verse doc ock supervillain antics are emblematic of the way that aside from anything else, this storyline is also -- and I must return to it once more, one cannot emphasize this enough -- so so SO entertaining about it along the way. it sets the tone in that it's campy and over the top and hilarious... a levity you really do need to bring to emmrich's arc, revolving as it does around *checks notes scribbled on hand* ah. the desperate crippling all-consuming terror of death. like um. yes. you need some liberal spoonfuls of comedic relief to make that particular theme palatable enough to get through and process, and providing that feels like both a very kind, a very intelligent, and very wise thing to do as a writer. and also ties in so perfectly with the whole thematic structure and conclusion -- the message that perhaps you will always be afraid of this thing. maybe that fear of cessation, of irretrievable loss, will be with you forever. but there is kindness and connection and fascinating things to discover in this world to make it bearable. it's all very elegantly done and I admire it deeply on a craft level as much as I appreciate getting to engage with it as a player. a masterful balancing act of tone. thank you for coming to my ted talk and goodbye

[love--and--venom]

Protective Instincts: TXT

Summary: Your best friend shows his possessive nature when another man harasses you

Warnings: Misogynistic comments, intimidation, threats of violence, if I missed anything lmk

Protective Instincts Masterlist

Choi Soobin

Your friend, Ji-woo’s birthday party was in full swing and you were highly satisfied with yourself for pulling off the surprise. You leaned against the wall, watching her flit between the small groups that formed around your parents’ house (which they graciously allowed you to use for the night). You grinned when one of her classmates popped a ‘birthday princess’ tiara on her head. 

The front door opened as a few stragglers trickled in. Almost all of the people you invited showed up, at least for a few minutes. At the tail end of the newcomers was someone you definitely did not invite. He scanned the room briefly, settling on you, making your blood run cold. His neutral expression morphed into a predatory smirk. 

You pushed off the wall, quickly escaping to the kitchen where you knew Soobin liked to hang out when things got too loud. He sat on one of the barstools that surrounded the island, which was packed full of snacks. He looked up from his phone upon hearing approaching footsteps. He smiled brightly, but it immediately fell at the panic in your eyes.

“What happened?” He asked as you pressed yourself between him and the counter.

“Soobin, he’s here.” His jaw tensed, needing no further explanation. “I don’t even know how he found out about the party. I haven’t had a shift with him in almost two weeks.”

“It’s okay, just stay calm and stay close to me.” Soobin shuffled you around so you were caged between his legs, hiking a foot onto a higher rung of the stool so his thigh acted as a shield in front of you. The unwanted guest, your shithead coworker, Matthew, appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, striding over to you like it was his house. Your posture stiffened, somehow shifting even closer to Soobin. You squeezed his forearm to ease your growing nerves.

“Jeez, Y/N, some host you are, running away instead of welcoming everyone.” Your coworker ‘playfully’ scolded as he moved closer to you and Soobin. He was met with a tense silence. “Damn. Tough crowd. I was joking, ease up a bit.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Hi.”  You mumbled, resisting the urge to hide your face in your hands. “H-how did you know about Ji-woo’s party?”

“You and Katie were talking about it. I overheard you guys talking in the break room.” He stood way too close for comfort, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Oh…”

“Come on, you should introduce me to your other friends,” he demanded with a sly grin, assuming you’d agree so you didn’t look rude.

“She’s not interested,” Soobin refused, leveling your coworker with an icy stare.

“Yeah? Who the fuck are you, anyway?” Matthew puffed his chest out, trying to look intimidating but failing royally.

“I’m her fucking boyfriend.” His free hand skimmed across your lower back to rest on your hip. 

“Boyfriend?” He scoffed, turning his glare from Soobin to you. “Sorry to break it to you, man, but your girlfriend’s a goddamn whore.” You flinched, shrinking in on yourself. Soobin, on the other hand, felt anger flare up in his chest.

“Choose your next words very fucking carefully,” he borderline growled, digging his fingers further into your hip. Matthew raised his hands in mock surrender. 

“She’s never mentioned you and she flirts with me all the time-”

“Are you serious?! I do not flirt with you!” You snapped, finally finding your voice. “I’m civil with you because we’re coworkers. We are not friends and frankly, I don’t like you.”

“God, you’re such a bitch sometimes. You’re probably not even dating,” he provoked harshly.

“Oh, classic. What? Are you expecting us to prove our relationship to you, pervert?” Soobin fired back with a sneer. 

“Yeah, actually, I do.” He narrowed his eyes at the two of you. “I think you’re lying cus you don’t want me to out you as an attention whore.” Soobin ground his teeth together. Your eyes flicked between your best friend and your coworker, unsure of how far this would go. 

“Fine,” Soobin agreed, flipping from pissed off to cocky in less than a second. He hooked a finger under your chin, turning you to face him. He mouthed ‘trust me’ to you before pulling you in by the back of your neck. You stifled a tiny squeak of surprise when your lips connected in a heated kiss. With one hand squeezing your hip and the other cupping your jaw, Soobin’s touch turned possessive in a way that made your head spin. You don’t know where this Soobin was hiding all this time. In the two years that you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him so aggressive. It was exhilarating, drawing a flush to your cheeks as he ran his tongue across yours. You whined involuntarily when he pulled away.

“He’s gone,” Soobin noted as he forced himself to check around the kitchen. 

“I, uh. I’d like to stay here, if that’s okay with you?” Your fingers curled around the hem of his shirt. You tried not to look too excited at his grin.

“Of course you can.”

Choi Yeonjun

Beomgyu found a new arcade in town and he made it his personal mission to drag you and the other boys there as soon as possible. It didn’t really take much convincing once he started listing all the games it housed. Retro, rhythm, shooters, racing, pretty much anything you could think of was in this arcade. The six of you moved through the games, your competitive nature increasing by the minute. You and Kai were trying to one-up each other in the Walking Dead game. Kai groaned dramatically when his character died, resulting in your win and celebratory cheer. 

“Dude, where did the guys go?” You asked, spinning in a small circle, unable to find them nearby.

“They got freaked out by the zombies,” Kai said while looking at his phone. “Soobin texted the group chat.”

“Boo, those scaredy-cats. Walkers aren’t even the scariest zombies,” you loudly complained.

“Come on, I told them to meet us at the snack stand,” he tapped your arm and turned to the back corner of the arcade. “You can sit down if you want, I’ll get everyone’s food.” You nodded, plopping down at one of the little tables and pulling up instagram. 

“Hey there,” an unfamiliar voice stole your attention from your phone. A guy, standing way too close, smiled at you with his hands tucked in his hoodie pockets.

“Uh, hi?”

“I couldn’t help but notice you sitting here all by yourself. It’s kinda rare to see a girl in an arcade, you know.” There were four other girls within ten feet of the table. You raised a brow at him.

“I see f-”

“Wait, wait. Let me rephrase,” he interrupted. “It’s rare to see a hot girl in an arcade. Look at them. 3, 4, 4, 2.” He pointed to each of the nearby girls as he said each number.

“Are you seriously rating them? That is such a dick move,” your lip curled up in disgust. 

“Chill, I was complimenting you.”

“By insulting other people. Real mature.” You rolled your eyes and stood to push past him. 

“I’m still talking to you, bitch.” His hand hit your sternum, shoving you back into your seat. You seriously regretted picking a corner table right now. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You tried to keep your voice level despite your growing anger.

“Me? What’s wrong with you?” He sneered. “I’m over here just trying to have  a conversation and you’re losing your shit.”

“You came up to me and immediately started insulting other girls. Why the fuck would I want to talk to you?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he started, leaning down to place one hand on the back of your chair, the other on the wall behind you. Anger shifted to fear as you realized you were trapped. “I’m much bigger and much stronger than you. How are you gonna stop me all by yourself?” The sinister grin on his face sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes widened as you pressed yourself into the wall.

“She’s not by herself, asshole.” Yeonjun’s voice cut through the tense silence. You released a shaky breath, but quickly went rigid again when the guy slammed a hand into the wall. 

“Back off, man. I was here first, go find your own bitch.” You gaped at him, stunned that he talked about you like you were an object right in front of you. Yeonjun yanked the guy back by his hood. His anger was visible on his face, mouth pulled into a deep scowl. He never got angry like this, but with your safety on the line he couldn't hold himself back. 

“Watch your fucking mouth,” Yeonjun snapped at the guy, who was now trying to mask his own fear. 

“Hey, take it easy. I was just giving the girl a compliment,” he immediately backtracked. Yeonjun tilted his head, brows furrowed and hand still tangled in his hood. 

“Why should I? You didn’t ‘take it easy’ when you tried to intimidate her,” Yeonjun questioned, slightly tightening his hood around his neck.

“B-because-”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed. I’m much bigger and much stronger than you. How are you gonna stop me all by yourself?” His face blanched as his own words were thrown back at him. Yeonjun easily towered over him.

“P-please just let m-me go,” he pleaded, now noticing the other boys standing a few feet away. You were suddenly very thankful that you had such tall friends.

“What do you think?” Yeonjun turned his attention to you. “What should I do with him?”

“Just,” you sighed heavily, drooping down in your chair. “Just let him go. He’s not worth the trouble.”

“You’re lucky she’s so nice. Because we,” he gestured to the others with a nod. “Are not so lenient. Get the fuck out of here.” Yeonjun shoved the guy away, watching closely as he scurried out of the arcade. 

“Yeonjun… thank-” You were cut off when he pulled you up, wrapping you in a tight hug. Your fingers curled into his shirt, still slightly overwhelmed by what just happened. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I’d never let anyone hurt you.” His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, holding you close to his chest. He pressed a kiss to your forehead as a few stray tears fell down your cheeks.

“I know.”

Kang Taehyun

You could think of many words to describe Taehyun. Sweet, caring, funny, great at magic (okay, that’s a few words, but still). Intimidating? Not so much. At least until today. His sister’s birthday was quickly approaching, so he recruited you to help him find a gift. Somehow you knew her favorite bookstore and Taehyun didn’t, which you teased him about relentlessly. You scanned the shelves, searching for a book on his sister’s GoodReads list. You didn’t notice when Taehyun drifted toward a display of tabletop games. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a man stand next to you. You didn’t think much of it, figuring he was looking for a book on the same shelf, until he opened his mouth.

“Wow, I’d never expect such a pretty girl to be into historical fiction.” You turned to him, thrown off by his odd comment.

“Uh, I’m not. I’m looking for a gift for my friend,” you hesitantly replied. 

“Ah,” the guy sighed in disappointment. “I should’ve known better. You’re probably only like romance, like every other girl in here.”

“What’s wrong with liking romance?” You narrowed your eyes at him. He waved a hand, dismissing your question.

“Don’t go putting words in my mouth. I never said liking romance is a bad thing. It’s just that females only seem to like reading when it involves sex scenes.”

“Excuse me? Females?” You crossed your arms, now irritated with this random asshole’s commentary. “That’s a bold assumption, dude.”

“God, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Your eyebrows shot up into your hairline. Before you could retaliate, his hand squeezed down on your shoulder. 

“Hey-”

“Relax, sweetheart. Why don’t you show me your favorite scene and I’ll make it real for you.” 

“Are you shitting me?! Did you really think that would work?” You hissed, smacking his hand away from you. “Leave me the fuck alone, creep.”

“Creep?” He scoffed. “You wanna see a fucking creep?” His hand shot out to grab your bicep, fingers digging into your skin. You tried to yank your arm back, but he tugged you closer to him, his other hand landing low on your hip. 

“Let go,” you demanded, your voice dropping lower in your throat. He smirked, pushing you into the shelf behind you. Panic flooded your mind. “Let go!” 

“Awe, poor thing. Should’ve thought about that before you insulted me.” You struggled against his grip, stomping your foot on his as tears stung the back of your eyes. “Fucking behave and this will go much easier.”

“Don’t. Please don’t-”

“Oh shut up.”

“What the fuck,” Taehyun appeared by your side, crushing the guy’s wrist in his hand. “Do you think you’re doing?” The guy ripped his arm away, glaring at Taehyun as he hid you behind him.

“Ow, fuck! Are you insane?! You could’ve broken my goddamn wrist,” he was close to shouting at this point. You silently hoped an employee would hear and kick him out. 

“That was the point, dumbass,” he glared at the stranger, literally looking down at him. You pressed closer to Taehyun, resting your forehead between his shoulder blades and gripping his shirt with shaky hands. He could feel you trembling against his back. His anger flared, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Taehyun’s hand dropped to your hip, his touch reassuring and his thumb brushing away the lingering feeling of the strange man’s fingers. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man sarcastically apologized. “I didn’t realize there was a line. Her pussy’s that good, huh?” Taehyun inhaled sharply.

“I am giving you five fucking seconds to walk away,” he seethed. If looks could kill, this guy would be dead ten times over.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll break your goddamn fingers.” You knew that Taehyun was protective of his friends, especially you, but you’ve never heard him threaten someone like that. 

“Try me, asshole.” Your panic spiked again when the guy took a step towards you. Taehyun went rigid, fist curling at his side. There was a very real possibility of him beating the shit out of this guy. As satisfying as that would be, you really didn’t want to have to bail him out of jail. So you wrapped your arms around his middle, hands resting on his stomach.

“Tae, please,” you whimpered into his shirt. This seemed to knock him back to reality. He took a shaky breath, moving his free hand to rest on yours. 

“Man, she’s got you whipped. What happened to all that big talk, hot-shot?” This guy just didn’t know when to stop.

“Excuse me, is there an issue over here?” An employee asked from the end of the shelves. “I’ve had other customers complain about shouting.”

“Yes, actually. This man harassed and put his hands on my friend,” Taehyun told the employee. She sighed, turning to him with the most unimpressed expression on her face.

“Sir, leave them alone or I’ll be forced to remove you from the store,” she stated, tilting her head at him. 

“Whatever,” he scoffed and walked away, hands shoved in his pockets, the employee following behind him. Once he was out of sight, Taehyun relaxed and spun around to hold your face in his hands.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry I left you alone,” he scanned your body for injuries, stopping at the bruises forming on your arm. 

“I’m okay, just a bit shaken up.” His lips pressed into a thin line as he brushed his thumb across your cheek. He quickly kissed the crown of your head before turning his attention back to the books, linking your pinky with his as you ignored the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

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