#your loved ones will move on and find someone they love the most and then in the future youre nobodys priority and u cant blame them but it

[mariasont]

A Puddle in Running Shoes A.H.

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

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

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

wc: 1.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yup, fine!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[kaiser1ns]

#. IT'S NAP TIME !

featuring 𝗯𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ıllı. michael kaiser, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, otoya eita

fluff. taking a nap with your boyfriend it's the most comforting thing, at least most of the time.

MICHAEL KAISER

Your boyfriend takes his one-hour nap during the day, it doesn’t matter if it’s early in the morning or late in the evening—he always carves out that extra time to recharge, unless you’re there.

As he lies sprawled across the bed, his shirt slightly crumpled and hair tousled, you can’t help but climb on top of him. Wrapping your arms around him, you press gentle kisses against his cheek, but he doesn’t stir, not even a twitch. Instead, he groans faintly, burying his face deeper into the pillow, murmuring, “Liebling, nap with me or leave me for an hour. Just one hour…”

But you know better. You know this isn’t just a regular nap. Tomorrow, he’s flying to Japan for this big football project, and the thought of being apart is breaking your heart to pieces. You don’t want to leave him, not even for a second.

Tenderly, you brush the soft strands of his blond bangs away from his face, taking in the calm expression he rarely lets the world see. This time, instead of kissing his cheek, you lean down and lightly bite the soft skin, hoping for some reaction.

“Mmm… what are you doing?” he grumbles, his voice muffled. He shifts slightly, his arm lazily draping over your waist to pull you closer. “Trouble, aren’t you? Just let me sleep…”

You giggle softly, resting your head on his chest your fingers idly tracing the lines of his tattoo. His heartbeat, steady and calm, feels like home. Even if he’s leaving soon, for now, this moment is yours.

ITOSHI SAE

The man lying under your bed sheets values a healthy lifestyle and an impeccable sleep schedule. But you? You value getting your fair share of sleep, even if it’s only occasional. Every time you decide to indulge in a well-earned nap, he somehow finds a way to kick you out of the bed—your bed. He came to your apartment seeking peace and quiet, but he was sorely mistaken. Not under your roof.

Eyes still heavy with sleep, your grip tightens around the pillow in your hands. It’s a weapon of choice because surely a good boyfriend deserves some form of reward now and then. Whether that reward comes in the form of suffocating love or a plush pillow smacking his face depends on the moment.

So you do what any rational person would. You throw the pillow at his head.

It sails through the air, hitting its mark with a satisfying thwack. Sae groans, rubbing his head as he pulls the pillow away. He slowly blinks his eyes open, only to find you standing at the doorway and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under.

He doesn’t say a word. Instead, what does he do? Exactly what he always does, he lifts the blanket in silent invitation—a silent peace offering. How thoughtful. He could have done that a few minutes ago.

You sigh, giving in because, well, of course you do. But not before marching over, slapping his arm for good measure, and planting a quick peck on his lips. It’s the least you can do for a man who’s equally deserving of your love and your wrath.

He doesn’t complain, he never does when you settle in beside him.

NAGI SEISHIRO

Sleeping Beauty, if someone asks you about Disney classics or to describe your boyfriend this is exactly what you will say. You fell asleep at the same time but you woke up because this same princess decided he wanted the whole duvet for himself and you just stared at him and it wasn't weird at all to stare at your boyfriend, not when he's so cute with slightly puffy cheeks and soft lips... Will he wake up if you kiss him?

You hovered your face above Nagi's, just like the Prince did in Sleeping Beauty. Gently cupping his face, you leaned down to kiss him. Seconds passed, and he still wasn’t waking up. Just as you were about to back away, his hands moved, softly holding yours and pulling you closer again.

That’s when you couldn’t breathe anymore. You placed your hands on his chest, breaking off the kiss. What a hassle—he just wanted to take a nap. Now, though, the taste of your lips lingered on his, and it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Your princess was quickly turning into a beast, especially when you stole the blanket and curled up with it, pretending you hadn’t just woken him up. His gaze shifted to you before he hugged you from behind trapping you in his warmth.

"Whatever," he muttered. He’d deal with this later.

ITOSHI RIN

Your favorite thing to do when coming over to the Itoshi’s household was defiantly laying in your boyfriend’s bed to take a nap after school, while his favorite thing was to sit on his desk playing horror video games or watching horror movies. The amount of time you have heard “Here’s Johnny!” when he yet again rewatched The Shining, while you tried to rest and most importantly trying to convince him to join you under the warm blanket.

Tossing and turning, craving his attention, but Rin stayed focused on the horror movie, ignoring your pleas. Frustrated, you sat up and declared, “I’m calling my mom to pick me up!” At first, he didn’t take you seriously, but as you dialed and started speaking, his body tensed.

“Mom, you’re coming to pick me up, right?” you said into the phone. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just need to finish some homework. Okay, I’ll wait outside in ten minutes.”

That was all it took. Rin abandoned the movie, snatching the phone from your hand before pulling you into a tight embrace. The two of you tumbled back onto the mattress. Smiling, you ran your fingers through his hair, feeling him relax against you. You always knew how to get his attention—just a little acting and a few white lies did the trick.

“Here’s Rin,” you teased, whispering into his ear as his breathing softened. “Shut up…” he mumbled, still sprawled on top of you. You smiled, snuggling him like a teddy bear, drifting off together. After-school naps like this were the best.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

How naive of you to think you're going to sleep at all when he's here asking you all sorts of things while rummaging through your wardrobe or spinning in your chair talking about velociraptors… As much as you love dinosaurs you would love to have some decent rest, but no your boyfriend decided that this is the right time to tell you about the evolution of the planet, the Big Bang and how these cute reptiles are gone. You feel the bed dip and he is next to you, poking you with his finger like a little kid beginning for some candy.

“Ryu, stop it or I will cause another Big Bang and you will be the first one to disappear,” he stopped and then he was on top of you crushing you with his weight. “Not If we die together~”

With all your strength, you try to shove him off. After a brief struggle, he tumbles onto the floor, smirking when he notices your exhaustion—dark circles under your eyes and eyelids heavy. Finally realizing you need rest, he gets up and gently tucks you into bed. But of course, he’s not done yet. Sliding beside you, he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug. Too tired to resist, you let him stay as he resumes his velociraptor monologue.

“And the way they eat people is cute—” he pauses, glancing at your sleeping face. “But you’re cuter~” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead before dozing off beside you.

OTOYA EITA

Does he really think he can just leave out of the blue because he has “more important” things to do? Yeah, you definitely haven't heard that one before. However, Otoya Eita is nobody new in your life, a boy you've been seeing for a while, and even though you know what he's like, he's been acting like you're in a relationship for the past two months when you're not. You're either officially together or not, right?

He’s bold, you’ll give him that—trying to wriggle his way out when you cuddled on the couch taking a nice and peaceful nap. Now, with nowhere left to run, he’s backed into a corner. You’re staring at him like he’s the lowest on the food chain, and honestly, he finds it kind of hot. Good thing he had gum earlier—never know when a kiss might happen or when a girl might get so mad she leaves you speechless.  

“Amaterasu,” he mutters, locking eyes with you, and you immediately facepalm. “Eita, we talked about this. I’m immune to ninjutsu—you know what, forget it.”  

He blinks, stunned. Your surrender throws him off. You? Giving up? That’s never happened. So why does he suddenly feel like apologizing and staying over?  

“If you wanna leave, just go,” you say, turning away. But instead of moving toward the door, he hesitates. “If I stay,” he finally asks, voice softer now, “Can I sleep between your legs?”  

The things you do for him. Well, you like him, so you’ll try to work it out. Besides, he’s been faithful, most of the time. That’s gotta be worth something. 

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[jaggedamethyst]

easy (part 2) (bucky barnes x gn!reader)

content: secret relationship/established relationship, miscommunication/misunderstanding, angst, self-doubt, mentions of death, cheating (kind of), not proofread

notes: part two this this...good luck lmao (a short one but it’s the right length i fear)

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

You’d been woken up by the sounds of knocks on your door. They started off normal and quickly became more frantic…aggressive, even. 

The sound of your name made you sit up on the floor. Suddenly, the door pushed open—revealing Bucky there. His hair was disheveled, clearly having run his hands through it. He hadn’t bothered with saying hi, kneeling in front of you and looking you over.

He cupped your face, “Are you okay?” He pressed into you more, nudging you to sit up. “What are you doing down here?”

You reached out to him, making sure you hadn’t tricked yourself, that he was really here. 

He continued, “What happened? Sharon said you disappeared and she couldn’t find you.” 

Somehow Bucky was missing the point. You could only blink at that, knowing that his energy was so misplaced. Why would he care about you right now when this entire relationship had so quickly gone awry? Why would he focus on you being on the floor when he ruined this—him. 

Bucky spoke again, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “I called you a shit ton, where’s your phone?” 

“Don’t know.” 

He paused, confused at your first and only words to him being so carelessly spoken. “Steve said he saw you—that you just…ran.“ 

You nodded. You had ran. Swift motions out of the building and to your place weren’t enough to erase the imagery in your brain. The way Bucky had seemed so carefree—so happy. With someone who wasn’t you, most importantly. A woman who looked so remarkably different than you. 

Your skin and body physically repelled him—pushing him away without a thought. Moving to stand, you watched his face twist in hurt. 

“How was recon?” 

“It was fine…am I missing something?” 

You ignored the question, asking your own. “You said Steve told you he saw me?” He nodded. “Did he know who I was?”

“Course he knew who you were—he’s my best friend.” 

You bought your in front of you, wringing them together. “Does she?” The question was meant to quell your anxiety, but instead made the prospect of him cheating infinitely harder to swallow. You looked at him expectantly, an answer seeming to escape him—despite you both knowing what happened that evening. 

“Does who?” 

“Natasha…Romanoff…the one you went on recon with.” You moved your head as you slowly spoke the words—breaking it down for him. “Does she know about me? About us?” 

“You know that we keep this a secret for your safety. We’ve talked about this a thousand times-“ 

“No, you keep it a secret and you've talked about it.” You moved to sit on the couch, “I agreed because I love you and I understand the stress of your job. But what I saw today,” you shook your head and looked up at him across the room. “That wasn’t a secret for my benefit. It was for yours.” 

“That’s just not true.” Bucky moved from his spot, finally, stepping across the room to sit beside you. “You have to understand my perspective on this. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I was the cause of anything happening to you.”

You twisted your entire face, staring up with an incredulous look. “Did you stop to consider how much worse it would be to have to live with the knowledge of you doing god knows what every time you’re not here?” You paused, feeling his hands attempt to wrap around you. Moving back instantly, you continued, “What happened with her? What haven’t I seen?” 

“Nothing.” Bucky waved his hands in front of him, emphasizing his words. “Nothing happened-“ 

“I saw you. Sharon showed me the feed, Bucky.” 

His face glazed over in realization—not that you had seen him with her, but that you had seen him with her. Bucky’s head started to move on its own, searching for how to make sense of this for you. “That wasn’t what it looked like.” 

A huff escaped you. Without a second thought you got up and moved toward the door, Bucky right on your trail. “If we’re gonna act like this you can just go.” You put a hand on the door handle, raising a brow at him. “You of all people know I won’t sit here and look stupid. Not when I’ve already wasted so much time waiting for you.” 

A moment passed, the reality of what you were saying lingering in the room. The two of you had talked about it before, how you’d waited so long for someone like him to appear. There’d been years of self discovery and “loving yourself first” before Bucky showed you that someone else could. When that happened, you settled for the relationship existing in its very specific confines—under the lock and key of his life’s restrictions. Even then, he’d get a call; people needed him. Bucky would go away for however long, and you’d wait. The amount of time spent yearning for the world to suddenly be quicker for you, for him, was immense. In every instance it seemed that despite the relatively common cosmic occurrences he’d faced, none of Bucky’s opponents could grant your wish—to get the man you loved back to you sooner. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke. You watched his hands ball into a fist, angered with himself. The mechanical whir of his arm filling the empty space. “I don’t feel that way about her.” 

You scoffed at that. He sounded so textbook it was physically making you ill. 

He continued, though, “She’s been my friend for a long time. We spend a lot of time together…and I wanted to tell her about you.” He inhaled, “But I didn’t. I don’t know why.” 

“Did you sleep with her?” 

“Of course not…and she kissed me. I regret making her feel like there was even a slight chance of me seeing her that way—because I don’t. I can’t.” His voice wavered, “Can’t because I only love you.”

He reached a hand out to you and it caused you to move away from him—impossibly closer to the door. 

“Bucky…I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Doll, please-“

You waved a hand, interrupting him, “Wait—just…listen.” You let go of the door, fully looking at him now. “I don’t think I can be with you if it’s like this.” He let you continue, “I know you want to protect me, but all of this has hurt me more than it could’ve ever helped. I feel so removed from you—like I don’t know you outside of our apartment walls.” Sweat had accumulated on your palms, making you realize how anxiety-inducing this had been. “I haven’t felt confident in myself around you in…a while-“

“But-“ 

“Bucky, please.” He nodded, stilling himself in commitment to let you speak. “That’s not your fault…but I think I need space to figure out why that is.” 

Bucky whispered your name, a shakiness on his voice. “I just…can’t stomach the idea of you dead…dying...because of me.” 

“I would’ve.” You moved to open the door. “I think I would’ve been fine facing death as long as everyone knew I loved you first.” You stepped back from the threshold and offered him the space to step out. “But they don’t. Nobody knows except us. That hurts.” 

Bucky didn’t speak as he stepped toward the hall. His entire figure seemed to hang lower than normal, and it pained you to see. You felt the heat of tears in your eyes, but you wouldn’t cry. There was a sort of satisfaction in facing this—breaking up with Bucky. It was always going to happen, you reasoned, so bearing your soul…crying…would’ve been too easy.  

tags (tried to get everyone who asked lol)

@julvrs @shanksstrawhat @vicmc624 @preeyas-world @ilovemcuff @winchestert101 @caity1995 @hereforfun-31 @cjand10 @nadinekr @wintercrows @read-just-cant @behindmygreyeyes @ordelixx @pklol @bookworm3570 @largarei @fairlyfatale @kittenkiryu

[astrow1zar6]

Astro Observations~ 46

Mars conjunct venus individuals can easily swing from being the sexiest in the room to their most obnoxious.

Uranus square Venus natives are so confused romantically lol. I’ve seen their relationships be very on & off cuz one minute they are in love the next they feel nothing & are detached. Their feelings for you go from hot to cold. If you value stability in your relationships these are not the people for you lol.

A lot of people with Mars square Venus in their natal can be big cheaters. In my observation I notice it’s difficult for them to be loyal or only mess with one person.

Moon in Scorpio men are super prideful. They’ll lose you before they come off as vulnerable or “weak” to someone. They act like they don’t have feelings but will lose their shit if you actually leave😂 I also notice they are usually super monogamous. Even if they act like they don’t like you if they see you flirting with someone else all hell will break loose 😭 they do not play about that. Deep down they can need as much attention as a Leo moon they’re just more embarrassed to ask for attention.

Taurus mars men usually prefer a conventional type of partner. They can go for a more housewife type of woman.

Mars/Venus in Libras do not know what to do with themselves when they are single. They can be big serial daters.

Moon in Libras i notice tend to have flatter faces.

Heavy Venus in the chart can give the native big anime/doe eyes. Also they have the BEST smiles everrrr💕

Cancer moons tend to take longer to move out of their parent’s house than most I notice. They will live with their parents till they’re like 30 I swear😭.

Aries moons are super outgoing but I notice they enjoy being alone & doing things alone rather than with others. They are super independent.

Capricorn moons tend to have a harder time in their romantic relationships. It’s harder for them to show affection openly which can make their partners think they aren’t that into them.

Mars in Geminis are always on the go. If ADHD was a placement it would be mars in Gemini. They need constant mental stimulation or they can get very depressed & self destructive. They are more likely to have multiple jobs/hobbies. It’s super hard to link with these people cuz they stay busy. Be careful not to neglect important relationships because of your restlessness.

Jupiter trine ascendant gives the native a very healthy strong body.

Venus conjunct ascendant in the first house are obsessed with their appearance. Sometimes to their detriment. Gives an amazing body shape usually.

Gemini Venuses love getting their nails done. Anything that draws attention to their hands such as rings, finger tats, acrylics ect.

The most annoying underdeveloped moon sign imo is Leo. These people can be so childish when immature.

Mars in the 3rd house people usually get in trouble for speeding. Driving fast calms them down a lot.

Mars in the 8th house I read somewhere can give a very painful death ( not to scare any of you guys😭).

Uranus in the 12th house people hide their quirks to fit in usually. They have really original eccentric personalities deep down yet most are forced to act basic.

Sun in the 1st house people can become big narcissists when insecure.

Saturn in the 7th house people could’ve been used to others calling them a “buzz kill” or “too serious”. They also tend to find humor in bullying? Like mean people are hilarious to them. I think that’s a big Saturn thing in general they love “mean humor”.

Saturn in the 5th house people could’ve been judged heavily for expressing their personalities. Usually these people are super talented but it was usually shut down by others from a young age due to jealousy. This is why they can grow up being very robotic. They are also very awkward when it comes to crushes and love until much older. Could be the last one in their friend group to get married/lose their virginity.

Moon in the 7th house people tend to marry pretty early.

A lot of people on the autism spectrum have heavy Aquarius in their chart. ESPECIALLY moon in Aquarius.

Having a grand square in your natal chart can be SOOO exhausting! You are constantly being forced to evolve and grow. This gives an opposite effect from the grand trine. With the grand trine things flow to them naturally & talents come very naturally but they can be very lazy with it. However grand squares usually have to work extra hard to achieve success, nothing comes easy for them unfortunately. When you surrender to laziness with a grand square it can completely ruin your life & make you 10 steps behind everyone. It forces you to overcome any laziness.

Best sex I’ve ever experienced with mars signs have to be TAURUS, Capricorn, Virgo & Aries. I feel like people are gonna come for my throat cuz I didn’t add Scorpio mars but I honestly think their sex can be overrated. They are just big horn dogs.

Virgo placements especially the sun and Venus tend to stay virgins longer than most. They don’t need physical affection as much as most placements (especially Venus in Virgo). They’re more into the mental aspects of love.

Your biggest crush probably has a lot of 5th house overlays with you. Especially (sun,moon, venus & mars).

12th house synastry can either be your soulmate or the most traumatic experience you’ll ever have with a person.. no in between.

Leo suns with a Venus in Libra tends to have SO MANY CRUSHES.

Moon/Venus in Pisces have terrible boundaries.

It’s easy to get along with someone who has their sun in the same sign as your Venus (also trine). It’s very difficult to stay made at them for too long, you tend to view each other with rose colored glasses.

On the other hand, Mars square Venus synastry can make you annoyed with eachother easily (especially as the Venus person). Every time I had this with someone as the Venus person I genuinely found them so annoying & corny lol. Theirs this bizarre sexual tension however that can make things kinda awkward especially in a friendship. The mars person tries too hard and can be too aggressive in trying to get the Venus persons attention to a point where it’s a turn off. Timing in general is usually off (eg; one can like the other when the other isn’t interested then it can switch where the one who wasn’t interested becomes interested then the other loses interest😭).

Aries risings tend to have bigger foreheads (ex; Rihanna). They also tend to have a very good head for being bald or having pixie cuts. Their heads are usually really well shaped.

Taurus placements (especially moon & sun) can struggle hygiene wise when they are depressed. Like forgetting to shower or going days without brushing their teeth or hair.

Cancer suns can either be extremely corny humor wise or be the funniest people in the room. A lot of comedians & YouTubers have cancer suns.

Mars in pisces are usually amazing singers/dancers.

Aries sun men tend to be more interested in a person when they act like they don’t like them lol. This can also be true with Venus in Aries.

Cancers love when people open up to them emotionally/vent to them. It gives them pleasure to nurture others.

Neptune in the 1st house people tend to look like a different person every time you see them. One change to their appearance such as changing hair color, or different makeup/clothes and completely alter what they look like. The definition of shape shifters.

Moon in Geminis love experimenting with different looks/aesthetics. These people are also lowkey shape shifters as well. They can also be addicted to dying their hair lol. ESPECIALLY during mental breakdowns!

Saturn positively aspecting Venus in synastry are real Ride or Dies. It hard for you guys to leave eachother alone (especially Saturn). These people can heal past relationship trauma together🥺 i see this aspect in a lot of married couples. Saturn/venus aspects are really the glue to a relationship. Even if you have great chemistry/synastry with someone such as Sun/moon, mars/venus, Pluto/venus it will fizzle out fast if their isn’t enough Saturn influence.

[voxslays]

HIS ESCAPE — THE SALESMAN

☘︎ It wasn’t long ago the salesman grew bored of the mundane cycle of his job. Find someone in debt, offer them a deal, play Ddakji with them, give them a card, and repeat. Every day.

☘︎ The pay wasn’t the problem. The front man could be quite generous, especially with his favorites. Your husband made six figures a month and you lived in one of the most expensive penthouses in all of Seoul.

☘︎ Yet, Gong Yoo still wanted to quit. But he was afraid. Terrified how the frontman would react. He wasn’t truly afraid of dying. The amount of times he had put a gun to his own head to fake out his enemies was too high to count. No, he was scared what his boss would do to you.

☘︎ The salesman knew if he ever wanted to leave the games for good, he’d have to leave Seoul—and likely Korea as a whole—and possibly change both of your identities.

☘︎ But once you flee the country, where do you go? The Americas? Europe? The recruiter had always heard you talking about how much you would love to move to the French countryside one day…maybe you could go there?

☘︎ But in the end, Gong Yoo knew his efforts would be futile. That he would be stuck in this repetitive loop until the day he dies. But when he comes home from a long and boring day of work to you making a delicious feast for him, he can’t help falling in love over again.

☘︎ You are his escape. His paradise. And Gong Yoo has no plans of letting you go anytime soon.

[nutsackx]

POKÉMON X THE OUTSIDERS AU

info under images lol

if anyone reposts these like the cowboy or scientist au I’m deleting my whole account watch your bakc

I’m gonna preface this by saying I haven’t played or even really indulged in Pokémon for like… 7 years so forgive me if any of this is off or doesn’t make sense…

ANYWAY!!

Original gang is just the Curtis brothers. Ponyboy, after years of putting it off to put time into school, decides he’s finally ready to try being a Pokémon trainer (he’s a bit of a late bloomer, starting at 14 instead of ten…yikes). Usually, their father would’ve helped him on his journey….but he’s, dead, so. 

Darry agrees to help him, eventually Soda gets dragged along too because he’s worried Pony and Darry fighting 24/7 will ruin the experience for Ponyboy. And, Soda, being a Pokémon ranger, has a lot more knowledge than even Darry about how to safely go about this. 

First they come across Steve. Soda and him are already besties, of course. And they have kinda a rivalry going on where they are constantly tryin to one-up each other (all in good faith lmao). It’s not until Steve starts talking about how he started with Pokémon that Darry realizes just how different it was than when he was starting out. Steve agrees to come along, mainly saying he thinks Pony’s gonna get himself killed cus’ he SUCKS!!

After all the yada yada and defeating his first gym leader, Pony finds a dead Radicate and REFUSES to move on until they give the poor creature a proper burial. Since they’re already relatively close, Darry redirects the group to Lavender Town. 

While inside Pokémon tower, they come across a decrepit, old, decaying black-belt class trainer (Mr.Miyagi ((yeah I put him in here, what are you gonna do about it?)),sorry for all the mean adjectives) who of course starts being an old man and going on and on about the boy he fosters there and how weird he’s acting lately (Darry refuses to interrupt because he RESPECTS HIS ELDERS!!!). 

Mr.Miyagi admits that not being around people his age has probably messed with his development, practically calling the boy a hermit, and asks the guys to bring him along in exchange for a very strong Gengar (for Pony, ofc). Darry, upon hearing that the boy is a strong fighter and MUCH quieter then the rest of the freaks he’s dealing with, agrees. 

They go from floor to floor looking for him, eventually finding a cloaked figure on some fuckass floor idk. It takes a minute but they’re like, damn, this hoe possessed! And they battle him, he’s hard to beat but they do it eventually, yada yada. Johnny then takes the hood off, apologizes profusely, and explains that he’s a channeler but not really good at his job yet. (also imagine him with the most fuckass stutter, like Shaky from rdr)

The guys inform him about their promise to Mr.Miyagi, Johnny’s upset for t-minus two minutes before he’s just like “whatever okay” and joins them. (Quickly becomes the favorite, ofc, because he can actually shut his damn mouth). 

They move on to the next gym, yk how it goes…but yeah they come across a traveling circus. And you’ll NEVER GUESS WHO IS A CLOWN!! 

So anyway, Clown-bit, we love him. They come across him, agree to fight so he’ll give them some food and pokeballs, and Pony beats his ASS. 

They don’t really invite Two-Bit along (they think he’s annoying…who doesn’t?) but he just joins anyway. Imagine like constant clown puns. Also he and Johnny quickly take a liking to each other cus’ they’re both kinda outcasts of the group (Johnny’s known the guys for like, a week…and Two-bit Just showed up. Also, we need more Johnny and Two-Bit friend content so).

They keep going, Pony defeats a few more gym leaders, and takes notice that a lot of them seem to recognize someone on their team. When he askes, Johnny admits to being the son of one of the elite four. At first, Pony is thrilled by the info, until he pries a little more and realizes Johnny’s father was an abusive asshole and pretty much sent him away to Pokémon tower to force him into becoming a trainer. Yikes. 

Anyway, on their journey they come across some UGLY blonde guy, like one of those biker trainer classes yk..? Anyway yeah it’s Dallas, shocker. He kinda just gets in their way and refuses to move until they ALL battle him. Obviously, they don’t wanna do that, a lot of work for some ugly freak (did I mention he’s ugly?). 

They agree to let Ponyboy fight him, but he uh…loses. After a bit of back and forth Dallas agrees to let them go if they help him get to the Indigo Plateau in Kanto, so he can face off against the Elite Four there (his bike is old, cus yk…he’s poor.) 

Darry at this point has an entire league of teenagers following him around, so he’s like what’s one more? And boom they move on. 

I don’t have much planned out from here (this was all pulled from my ass anyway). Maybe the Shepards can be like…the Team Rocket of this AU?? And Soc’s are the gym leaders. 

Also, Yeah Cherry and Marcia are both Kanto elite four cus I SAID SO!!! And uh…Johnny and Cherry are dating because it’s MY AU AND I DO WHAT I WANT!!!! She’s the breadwinner and that’s okay, we love her for it <3

twobit prolly falls in love with Marcia when he sees her but idk if she’d reciprocate with an actual clown. Mayeb Randy lowered her standards???

anyway. That is all. Might flesh this out more if the obsession grows, or it’ll die in a week like the Crazy Scientist stuff. Oh well!

EXPLANATION OF DESIGNS/MORE INFO—

Ponyboy

CLASS: Youngster 

Ngl his design took very little time…..oops

his cap hides a really bad dye job, and he refuses to take it off

He chose squirtle as his starter, idrk why but squirtle just suits him. Maybe cus he almost drowned!!

Would’ve fought to the DEATH if he didn’t get squirtle. This boy knows what he wants 

He has a little pokeball necklace that his mom got him as a joke, will kill someone for it 

He deffo has a really nerdy messenger bag that he keeps all of his stuff in

He’s scared of his own Beedrill 

He does NOT need those glasses. But he likes them becuase he thinks they make him look more professional (everyone can tell they’re blue light glasses)

Sodapop

CLASS: Pokémon Ranger

LOVES his job and therefore is almost always seen in uniform

he loves electric/steel type Pokémon cus they reminds him of cars, so his hair is usually sticking up because of static electricity 

has a whistle, but Darrel stole it and tossed it into the forest VERY early into the journey 

yellow is his favorite color cus I said so

Raichu is his PRIZED Pokémon 

He’s kinda like Snow White the Pokémon love him 

His Flareon and Johnny’s Espeon are best friends 

Darrel

CLASS: Veteran 

Wanted to be a football player, but couldn’t because that wouldn’t keep the family afloat, that’s why his outfit has the numbers on it. 

Lot of scars, some from football and some from his days as a trainer 

His outfit used to have sleeves, but he found them annoying and just shopped them off one day 

Always keeps the spare pokeballs on him 

In highschool he had his hair grown out, but chopped it after their folks died because his father was always trying to get him to cut it 

I don’t really have a backstory for his necklace, buts it fire okay

Treats his Pokémon VERY well, if there was a trainer rating website he would be top 5

Picks his Pokémon based on size and strength

Two-Bit

CLASS: CLOWN

Obviously he’s a clown so, that explains the outfit 

NEVER seen without the makeup, even when it rains or he’s sleeping…that stuff is ON THERE

He has false lashes on his waterline, and yes they’re pink 

He is incapable of being quiet because of all the bells 

The hat doesn’t come off. if it did his hair under there would be hella matted 

All of Two’s Pokémon are just as annoying as he is, he hides earplugs in his shoes for people (they never take them) 

FATASS can and will eat anything in sight

Mr.Mime is his favorite of all his Pokémon….they ate both annoying together and everyone hates them for it 

Johnny

CLASS: Channeler 

the scar on his eye is from his father 😬 from when he figured out Miyagi wasn’t actually training him to be the next member of the Elite Four…. the eye is blue because of some psychic shit idk 

His outfit is from Miyagi entirely, the sleeves used to be connected, but he found it too annoying to fight in those so he tore them (Miyagi was secretly VERY unsettled) 

If you look really closely he has purple eyeliner

Johnny refuses to cut his hair, so it’s usually in a braid to be out of his way, he lets it down sometimes 

He has the little flower charm connected to his belt…what a cutie 

His hood is actually up a LOT, most of the time his face is obscured 

There’s flames on his sleeve….wonder why (not the reason you think okay. His father was a fire type trainer…JOHNNY LIVES IN THIS AU OKAY.)

also the metal things around his arm are like…incredibly heavy. Mr.Miyagi put them in originally so he could build muscle while doing everyday things, but Johnny insists on keeping the on forever. 

Loves all of his Pokémon equally, and they love him back. Always has atleast one out of their Pokeball so he doesn’t get lonely….my baby 

He doesn’t even like the color purple that much it’s just kinda his thing now 

Pokémon FLOCK to this man 

Dallas

CLASS: Biker

Tore the sleeves off of his jacket as well…they really like doing that 

YELLOW teeth and GREASY hair he does not take care of himself

Really likes dog-looking Pokémon 

Has an empty slot because one of his Pokémon just DIED LMAO (idk which one. Oh well) 

Has rips in his jeans, does not plan on fixing it 

Hand-carved his belt buckle. The ‘win’ in Winston is underlined. Ignore the fact that this idiot keeps fucking losing 

The bandages are protecting nothing. He thinks it makes him look cool

Pokémon are revolted by him. Like, his own literally hate him. 

Steve

Class: Hooligan

kind of an ass, but he looks cool

any cutscene of him he’s making sure his hair is still spiked trust

loves steel type Pokémon because…cars

his favorite color is green, making any green Pokémon his all time favorite

for being a little shit, he treats his Pokémon rather well

has studs ALL over his back, once leaned back on Soda and has never heard the end of the pain he caused

he has a tongue piercing….so….

when the gang is lacking resources, he and Dallas are the first to steal

[siri-ike]

(I put the painting at the bottom so you have to read if you want to see it)

Some encouraging comments, reblogs, and the occasional fanart. Danny's notifications were predictable and comforting. People really appreciated his work, and he loved to see it. The fanart was usually posted publicly, though, and so he rebloged them ofcorse.

But, what's the right reaction when someone d.m.s you a picture of an intricate and very personal looking portrait of a boy who looks a lot like you, in black and white on one side and red and ghostly green shrouded in darkness on the other?

The two separate mediums were incredibly impressive, but was this a threat? Did someone find out who he was? And find out about Phantom?? Well, Danny is no coward, so he replied.

What kind of Addams Family shinaniganary is this?

TheBloodSon was apparently 15 years old, same as Danny, so why is he responding to him in poetic cuplets? Poems, mind you, that also kind of sound like threats. Yet endearing at the same time. They had the general vibe of "if I can't have you, no one can."

And Danny's not falling for that a third time.

● ● ●

Anyway.

Danny fell for that a third time.

TheBloodSon 's real name was Damian. He didn't wanna reveal a last name, and surprisingly, he didn't wanna know Danny's either. Something about not wanting an oricle to find him. Not that it would matter since Danny didn't have a legal identity anyway.

It went on that way for months, until one day.

Sent 18:47

TheBloodSon: I am skilled in bloodshed, but know less of emotion. With great caution, i tread, to confess my devotion.

In one week's time, a ball is planned. Will you attend? Holding my hand?

Read 18:53

Danny didn't know how to react. This was such a big leap. Sure, they knew eachothers interests, hobbies, talents, and how anoying echothers families were. But meeting in person? At an event of some sort? From what he'd heard/read, Damiens family regularly went to big rich people parties. With fancy clothes, and got ambushed by reporters and/or costumed villains. Usually both. Should he bring a thermos? Does he know about Phantom?

Sent 16:14

AstroBoi13: Which ball? My uncle might be going.

TheBloodSon: The Wayne charity gala. Anyone who makes a donation can go, but you don't have to if you are my guest.

AstroBoi13: it's not that I don't trust you or anything, but I think I'd rather have someone I already know and a way to get back home.

TheBloodSon: Understood, I look forward to seeing you.

18:18

AstroBoi13: I talked to him, we'll be there.

TheBloodSon: Exelent, your presence will be dually noted.

Read 18:20

Damian would be shaking with excitement, were he not highly trained to control such urges. But there was something more to it this time. More than an urge to flap his arms about, more than wanting to run a few laps. He wanted to... tell someone? That can't be right.

Damian could resist the first day. Five more, and he'd be golden. On the second day, however, the urge got stronger. Usually, he could just smother it, and it went away. But it wasn't going away.

He didn't even want to brag or rub it in someone's face. It was a different need. He wanted someone to be exited with him. The thought of Grayson congratulating him on making a normal friend, followed, of course, by far too much touching. He pictured Stephanie "hyping him up," as she says, and it tied his stomach in the best way. He imagined how all his "family members" would react. Multiple outcomes for each of course. And by far, the most consistent was Cassandra. So that's who he could tell if it came to that.

On the third day, he started to falter. And in a house full of detectives, the slightest hint is enough. He was aware of this and had acted accordingly. Unfortunately, he had once again underestimated the butler.

On the fifth day, Pennyworth caught him pacing in the library and moving his hands in a fanning motion. He had thought, maybe allowing himself this would help him stay quiet. But he still wanted so badly to divulge.

"Master Damian, are you alright?"

Damian stopped abruptly. He pretends as though he hadn't just been displaying the most obvious signs of secrecy. The league taught him better than this.

"I, am, great." Oh, good job, that was very convincing.

Pennyworth, of course, did not fall for this.

"If something is on your mind, I will gladly lend an ear. And if not, might I suggest pacing in front of the bookshelves instead, so the wind might clear the dust." He retorted with his usual, frivolous jokes.

"My affairs are none of your concern."

"Then perhaps you may speak aloud to the library while I clean."

Pennyworth's notions on "telling people how you feel" were as pointless as all his opinions. Had it rubbed off on him? Is he the reason Damian feels this need to talk about Danny. So much that the idea of telling someone made his heart flutter and his breath quicken.

Damian turned his head toward the butler. Paying close attention to his body language while keeping his own face out of view. "You must promise not to tell anyone."

Alfred just kept dusting the bookshelves, never even looking at Damian. "I give you my word. Anything you say stays between us." He placed his hand on his chest, but he still didn't look Damians way.

Pennyworth has no history of being deceitful. At least not towards them.

"I, I invited someone to the galla on Thursday... We have not met before." Confessing felt good, like he'd been holding up a large weight, and now he was finally relaxing his arms. He could feel a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And I find myself concerned whether he will like me in person. Or if he will even show up." Where did that come from? Of course, he'll show up. Why wouldn't he?

Damian sat down on one of the couches. "He didn't want to go as my guest. He said he would ask his uncle to take him, but what if he was lying. What if he just doesn't want to see me. What if I already scared him off?" That was it, not just a weight. A giant lead ball just got removed from his stomach.

Alfred stopped cleaning. "This boy, is he your age?"

"Yes, he's fourteen." Damian leaned his arms on his knees.

"How do you know each other?" He turned his head towards Damian.

Damian avoided eyecontact. "We send messages over the internet."

"For how long?" He put down his duster and stepped closer.

"Seven months." He's going to be in trouble for sure. Inviting a stranger to the manor? What was he thinking?

Alfred was only a few feet away. "In these seven months, has he shown to be the kind of person who would stand you up?"

Damian thought for a moment. "No." Guilt, remorse, how could he think so little of his friend? Damian felt Alfred's hand on his back and, for once, didn't fight it.

"If he shows up, you'll get to meet each other in person. If he doesn't, then it'll be just another gala. You've survived those before." He assured with his typical dramatics.

On the sixth day, four hours before the early guests would start to arrive, Damian was at the tailor getting his suit (he got it adjusted every other week due to his current growth rate). Jebadiah "Bread" Carlson was nice to spend time with. He was always calm and rather monotone. Damian found comfort in his demeanor. Sometimes, he would stay there longer than he needed, and he'd even learned how to properly mend a stabwound on multiple materials. Mother would surely not approve. This was one of those days. He came up with excuses to stay longer like he always did, and Bread talked about his granddaughters' first steps, stitching techniques, and the camps. He was soothing to listen to. Before Damian knew it, three and a half hours had passed, and Jayson was there to pick him up.

18:18

AstroBoi13: I talked to him, we'll be there

TheBloodSon: Exelent, your presence will be dually noted.

Read 18:20

This is fine.

This is fine.

The fruit loop didn't even ask for much. Which was super out of character. He's definitely planning something. But it'll be fine.

Day one went... by, for Danny. His hands clamed up so much that he lost count of how often he washed them. His stomach felt queezy. Not in a sick kind of way, more like, ate too many boiled eggs kind of way, but slightly to the left of that, ya'know?

Unfortunately, he, Dani, and Dan (long story) got stuck in the triassic period along with Ember, Young Blood, and Box Ghost (longer story) for nine full months. The eyeballs wanted to send him home nine months later than he'd disappeared but there was absolutely no way he was skipping all the way to the start of a semester right after not only finishing one but also forgetting everything he'd learned in school. The thing is, Danny's human form had aged by nine months. His ghost form, on the other hand, was exactly the same as it had always been. So Clockwork was able to convince the council, through witchcraft or something, to let him go back to the right time period as long as he stays in his ghost form until his peers are the same age as he is.

OK, great. He can do that. As long as his parents don't go ghost hunting or turn on the ghost shields or he gets knocked out or sleep freezes something or a dozen other things that could happen. He'll deal with it when something inevitably goes wrong.

Somehow, his parents bought the "bleached hair" excuse and didn't even notice his eyes. Jazz helped, of course, but the real challenge came knocking at their door 4 days later in the form of Vlad calling about his suit preferences. That was when panic set in. They were leaving now. Staying the night at a hotel in Gotham because the gala is at 15:00 and according to Vlad, etiquette states they have to come an hour or two early since he was invited by one of the hosts. What do you mean one of the hosts? Damian invited him.

Well, apparently, Damian wasn't just a rich kid. He was the rich kid. Damian Wayne Al-Ghul, all the articles Danny had frantically looked up during the private jet trip seemed to agree that he was either a spoiled short fused brat with a soft spot for animals, or a dead faced con artist who was only taking advantage of Bruce Wayne's tendency to keep every child that crossed his path. The second category also seemed to sing the same song about Cassandra Wayne and Duke Thomas Wayne. Danny just assumed those were the racist tabloids and wrote them off. Especially after seeing a clip of Bruce Wayne puncing one of their "reporters".

Danny then reread all their messages. How he had presented himself mattered, a lot, more than how magazines saw him. After all, Danny knows what it's like to be misrepresented by the media.

Their hotel room was as fancy as he expected. Infact "room" was an understatement. It was a spacious living room with two bedrooms connected to it. Danny's temporary hotel bedroom was bigger than his permanent bedroom at home. Not as big as his, Dani's, or Dan's (he's like 11 now, seriously long story) rooms at Vlads mansion. And deffinetly not like their rooms at the Cheese Castle. But still ridiculously hoighty. All for the low price of pretending to be Vlads son in front of some rich people.

It was kind of nice sharing a room with the other two. Even back home, he never really had to share his bedroom for non emergency reasons. And in these forms (Dani also had to stay ghost and Dan didn't have a human form), they looked more like Vlads kids than His parents'.

10:02

TheBloodSon: At what time will you be here?

AstroBoi13: my uncle wants to bring us by at 2 30 or 2

TheBloodSon: You and who else?

AstroBoi13: Dani and Dan they are 13 and 11 but they can do theyr own thing

TheBloodSon: Are they your siblings or your cousins?

AstroBoi13: kind of

TheBloodSon: perhaps that will be better discussed in person.

Read 10:12

Damian hated greeting the guests, but this time, he didn't complain. It no longer mattered if Father became suspicious because soon he would ask to leave his side. One by one, people arrived. He stared down every limousine that entered their courtyard, and each one disappointed. At 14:36, he wondered if he might have missed their arrival. He was pretty sure Danny was actually Daniel Fenton from Amity Park, son of the Doctors Jack and Madeleine Fenton, and that the "uncle" He had mentioned was Vladius Masters. He couldn't find anything on Dani and Dan, but he had chalked that up to lack of time. Just then, Damian recognized the limo driving in. Anthony and his parents are here.

"Father, may I be excused, I have matters to attend."

"What kind of matters?" Father looked over to the limo approaching and cought on. "Right, I see."

Damian went back in, but rather than staying in the ballroom, where he would eventually be ambushed by Anthony and forced to waste hours hearing about the latest prank videos and "seacret gaming rooms," he went all the way to Father's office before he pulled out his phone.

14:41

TheBloodSon: Where are you?

AstroBoi13: were almost ther Dan threw a tantrum and it slowed us down a bit two minuts promise

TheBloodSon: When you get here, don't go into the ballroom. I'll sneak you away.

AstroBoi13: ??

TheBloodSon: There's an anoying classmate there. I would prefer to avoid him.

Read 14:48

14:59

AstroBoi13: at the gates now

TheBloodSon: Copy

Read 14:59

At 15:03, Damian made it to the front door, just in time to see a very tall, very pale man walk in, followed by a small boy with blueish white hair and sickly white skin, after him was a slightly taller girl, who also had white hair, still pale but not as much as the boy, and behind her was Danny Phantom, guardian of Amity Park, the second biggest city in Illinois. There was no mistaking it. That was the ghost boy Damian had read about in father's files.

Damian cought Bruce's expression from outside. Signaling him to talk to these people, or at least keep an eye on them.

"Ahem." Damian cought their attention. "I am Damian Wayne Al-Ghul, I don't believe we've met."

"Ooh, I'm Danny." Danny said. "Vl, father, may I go with Damian for a while. I'll be back in half an hour to greet your friends." He addressed the tall man. From this close, he looked like he could be two meters tall. Almost as tall as Bane.

"Don't bother, Eleanor won't be here until 4:20," Damian had heard that number be referred to as humorous, but endless research could not explain why. "Just come back some time after that."

"Looks like we got an hour and a half." Danny started in the direction Damian had come from. "Do I get to see your other paintings?"

Little Artist

So I saw this

and had an idea for Danny X Damian. Where Danny likes making various stories he publishes online. Everyone said he needed a hobby and he can’t be an astronount (or join a sport since it would be more suspicious if he left in the middle of a game or practice for a ghost attack) and Ghost Writer got him to try writing, saying it’s relaxing. And honestly? It was. Danny enjoyed making stories. Sometimes he would just type what crazy thing happened to him that day while tweaking names and a few details to not give away his identity. Sometimes he made fanfiction of some stories he liked. And sometimes he tested out making original stories, taking and first hand knowledge from various ghosts and cultures to make his writing more authentic. And after much encouragement from Jazz, he posted some of his work online.

Cue Damian coming across one of his brother’s laptops. He didn’t mean to look for long but he thought the file was for a case and wanted to know more about it. ….then he got invested.

There was an author on this sight who wrote amazing stories. The emotions captured were so vivid, and he even fact checked a few historical facts and languages used. Everything from the dialogue, to the accent, and culture. Each new story completely enraptured him.

It made his fingers twitch for a piece of paper. Some paint, perhaps charcoal?

Damian started putting heavy encryption on his computer and search history. And locked his art room up. Then came a story that truly resonated with him. An original work about a boy from a different place, trying to fit into his new reality and the new rules and expectations placed on him…worried if his family would accept him. It sounded so much like when Damian first came to Wayne Manor. And it sparked his inspiration. He spent days working on his newest piece. Trying different angles and lighting, mixing colors. It looked like a collage between charcoal and watercolor, showing someone leaving a world of darkness into the light, yet this new world was unstable and strange compared to the rigid structure of his old one. When it was finally done, Damian felt like he was both looking at himself and a stranger. The character from the story brought to life.

It felt both freeing and settling, like he finally had a name for what he had been feeling. AstroBoi13’s fics always had that affect on him.

And for the first time, Damian did something he thought he’d never do. He snapped a picture of his masterpiece and sent it to the author. Quickly so he didn’t lose his nerve.

It was fine. It’s just one picture. It’s not like this would be a repeat occurrence.

[wondergirlsthings]

Love at First Sight: Jude Bellingham’s Instant Connection with Reader. Part¹

Jude Bellingham x Reader

The Santiago Bernabéu was alive with the hum of excitement, a sea of white jerseys moving like waves as chants echoed off the towering walls. Jude Bellingham stood near the sidelines, headphones around his neck, his mind honed in on the game ahead. This was his element—where focus and precision met raw emotion. Nothing usually broke his concentration on match day.

Until now.

As he scanned the crowd, his gaze faltered, locking onto something—or rather, someone. There you were, sitting a few rows up from the pitch. You weren’t shouting or waving a flag like most of the fans around you, yet somehow, you stood out in a way Jude couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the way your smile effortlessly lit up your face as you laughed with the person next to you. Or the way you seemed completely at ease, like the chaos of the crowd didn’t touch you.

He blinked, his heart skipping a beat, his grip tightening slightly on the bottle in his hand. He told himself to look away, to refocus, but it was like his eyes refused to obey. The longer he watched, the more intrigued he became. Everything about you seemed magnetic, like you had a gravity all your own, pulling him in without even trying.

His teammates began walking onto the pitch for warm-ups, and Jude followed, but his thoughts stayed with you. As he jogged to his position, he stole another glance. And that’s when it happened—you looked at him.

It was brief, just a second or two, but it was enough. Your eyes met his, and the noise of the stadium fell away. The world shrank down to just the two of you in that fleeting moment. Your brows raised slightly, almost as if you were surprised to catch him staring, and then a small, shy smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

He felt a warmth spread through his chest, completely out of place given the chilly evening air. Jude wasn’t the type to get flustered, but for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt off balance.

As the warm-up continued, his usual rhythm felt different. He was still Jude Bellingham—the same composed, driven player—but now there was something else lingering in the back of his mind. He caught himself glancing toward the stands more than once, hoping to see you again.

By the time the match began, he’d come to a quiet realization: this wasn’t just a passing distraction. He couldn’t explain it, but something about seeing you for the first time felt significant. Like fate had nudged him in your direction.

As the final whistle blew and the crowd erupted in celebration, Jude found himself scanning the stands one last time. He didn’t know who you were, but he was sure of one thing—he had to find out.

[kiesbrainjuice]

— AFTERPARTY ! tooru oikawa

➥ pr : timeskip!oikawa x famous!fem!reader

➥ syn : waking up with a famous model in your bed after a afterparty you didn’t remember ? hell nah

➥ wc : 3.2k

➥ tw : drunk sex (no description of sex lol), suggestive talks, make out session at the end, fluffy morning, kind of a oneshot??

➥ a/n : new baby : tooru. but the matter is that I love tooru from s4 only (like the mini moment) because he is prettier in the art of the s4 (like all haikyuu characters lmao)

The bright morning light streaming through the slats of the blinds was enough to make Oikawa Tooru groan as he stirred in bed, his head pounding mercilessly. He squinted against the intrusive glow, and his hand instinctively came up to rub at his temple.

How much did I drink last night?

The pounding headache was relentless, accompanied by a haze of fragmented memories from the night before. He remembered the match—Argentina against Japan. He’d played well, as expected. The crowd had been electric, the cheers still echoing faintly in his ears. After that? The after-party. It had been a lavish celebration, as it always was when his team won a match.

He groaned again, this time shifting slightly to sit up. Something felt off. The sheets bunched uncomfortably low around his waist, and… there was a distinct chill against his skin. All of his skin. That’s when it hit him. He wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Oikawa blinked once, then twice, as the realization settled like a heavy weight in his chest. Slowly, he turned his head to the side, his stomach twisting with dread.

His breath caught in his throat.

There, lying tangled in his expensive silk sheets, was someone else. A woman. Naked.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

His eyes widened as he took in the scene before him. Long hair spilled over his pillow, framing a face that could only be described as breathtaking. Even in sleep, she radiated elegance and beauty, her features far too familiar to him.

He blinked again, harder this time, hoping he was hallucinating. But no, it was her. You. The internationally famous model. The model who had attended the match last night, who had drawn attention from everyone in the room, including him.

“The fuck did I do?” Oikawa whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing his brain to recall more of the night. Images flashed in his mind—brief but damning. He remembered you laughing, your hand brushing his as you leaned in closer. He remembered drinking, and then drinking more, the two of you at the center of the party. Dancing. Your hand in his. The way you’d looked at him, eyes sparkling with mischief and something more.

And then… nothing. A black hole of memory.

His heart raced as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to jostle you awake. His bare feet touched the cold floor, grounding him slightly as panic set in. He ran a hand through his tousled brown hair, muttering under his breath, “This cannot be happening. What the hell did I do?”

He stood up, wincing as the pounding in his head intensified. The sleek, modern apartment he called home suddenly felt far too small, the walls closing in as he scrambled to piece together what had happened. His mind raced with questions.

Did we…? He glanced back at you, your bare shoulder peeking out from under the sheets. The answer was obvious.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered, louder this time. His hands tugged at his hair in frustration. What was supposed to be a simple celebration had somehow spiraled into this.

Oikawa moved quickly, grabbing his boxers and pulling them on with a sense of urgency. He needed to think, to figure out how to handle this before you woke up. The last thing he wanted was for the world to find out that Tooru Oikawa, Argentina’s star setter and public heartthrob, had spent the night with one of the most famous women on the planet—and couldn’t even remember how it happened.

As he reached for his sweatpants, he stole another glance at you. You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent as you shifted beneath the covers. He froze, his heart leaping into his throat. But you didn’t wake.

He let out a shaky breath. Figure this out. Damage control. His thoughts were a mess, his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

All he knew was that this was a disaster waiting to happen, and he had no idea how to fix it.

The sound of running water filled the silence of the apartment as Oikawa leaned against the counter in his sleek, minimalist kitchen. A glass of cold water sat on the marble countertop next to a packet of painkillers, a necessary remedy for the throbbing in his head. His thoughts were still scattered, the events of the night before refusing to organize themselves into a coherent narrative.

How do I get through this without making things worse? He sighed, rubbing his temples.

But just as he was about to pop the medication into his mouth, a small cry from the bedroom jolted him upright.

“Ah!”

This was followed by a loud thud.

Oikawa’s eyes widened in alarm, and without a second thought, he abandoned the glass and rushed toward the sound.

Pushing open the bedroom door, he found you on the floor, tangled in a heap of silk sheets. You were rubbing your temple with one hand, clearly disoriented, while the other hand clutched the fabric tightly to your chest in an effort to cover yourself.

“Are you okay?!” Oikawa asked, rushing toward you but stopping a few steps away, suddenly unsure of how to proceed.

You blinked up at him, your expression a mix of confusion and discomfort. “What the…?” Your voice was hoarse, your gaze darting around the room. It didn’t take long for your eyes to land on him—dressed now in sweatpants and nothing on the torso, his hair still messy from sleep.

Your eyes locked. For a moment, neither of you said a word, the silence charged with unspoken questions.

Oikawa broke the stare first, clearing his throat awkwardly and running a hand through his hair. “Uh, you fell. Are you—are you hurt?”

You shook your head slowly, your fingers still pressing into your temple. “No, just… dizzy. My head is killing me.” Your voice carried a groggy edge as you tried to make sense of your surroundings. “Where am I?”

“My apartment,” he said quickly, before realizing how bad that sounded. “I mean, um, last night… we… Uh…” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his face flushing slightly.

Your brows furrowed as you pulled the sheets tighter around yourself. “Last night?”

“Yeah…” He scratched the back of his neck, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. “It’s… complicated.”

You groaned softly, closing your eyes and leaning back against the bed. “Of course it is.”

Oikawa hesitated for a moment before walking over to his closet. “Uh, here,” he said, pulling out a neatly folded sweatshirt. He handed them to you, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. “You can wear these for now. I, uh, couldn’t find your dress.”

You glanced at the clothes and then back at him, one brow arching slightly. “You ‘couldn’t find’ my dress? Or did you not want to look too hard for it?”

“Hey!” he protested, holding up his hands defensively. “I swear I looked!”

You let out a soft laugh, your voice laced with amusement despite your pounding headache. “Relax, setter boy. I’m teasing.”

“Setter boy?” He blinked, surprised you recognized him despite the chaos.

You smirked faintly, accepting the clothes. “You’re Oikawa Tooru. Star setter for Argentina. Kind of hard not to know who you are.”

“Ah, well, I guess I’m famous.” He flashed a small grin despite himself, but it quickly faded when he remembered the situation. “Anyway, uh… you can change in the bathroom if you want.”

Once you were dressed in his oversized sweatshirt—which practically swallowed you—you emerged from the bathroom and followed Oikawa into the kitchen.

He gestured toward one of the high stools at the counter. “Here. Sit. I’ll get you some water and something for your head.”

You slid onto the stool, glancing around the apartment as the golden morning light poured in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was stunning, showcasing the bustling streets of Buenos Aires far below.

“You’ve got a nice place,” you commented, your voice light.

“Thanks,” Oikawa replied, handing you the glass of water and the painkillers. “Volleyball pays well when you’re good at it.” He gave you a playful smirk.

“Modest, aren’t you?” you teased, taking the pills and downing them with a sip of water.

“Only when it counts.”

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, the initial awkwardness melting away as you both talked. You shared fragments of last night—how you’d ended up at the match, your thoughts on the game, and your blurry memories of the after-party. Oikawa admitted he didn’t remember much either, earning a laugh from you when he sheepishly confessed to drinking far too much.

“So let me get this straight,” you said, resting your chin on your hand as you gazed at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “You invited me to the after-party, we drank way too much, and now we’re here—me in your clothes, with no idea what happened in between?”

“Pretty much,” Oikawa replied, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. “I swear this isn’t how I usually spend my mornings.”

“Sure it isn’t,” you teased, your smile widening.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re awfully confident for someone who woke up in a stranger’s bed.”

“Well,” you said, leaning forward slightly, “when the stranger is as charming as you, it’s hard to complain.”

Oikawa froze for half a second, caught off guard by your boldness. His ears turned red, and he quickly looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Charming, huh? You must still be half-asleep.”

You laughed softly, enjoying how flustered he was. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just fun to mess with.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “Drink your water before you pass out again.”

The golden light bathed the two of you as the conversation continued, the tension from earlier replaced by a surprising sense of comfort.

Oikawa leaned back against the counter, watching you sip the water he’d given you. He tapped his fingers absently on the marble surface, his thoughts still a little scattered, though the easy rhythm of your conversation was helping ground him.

“So,” he started, after a brief pause. “You’re a model. Internationally famous, apparently.”

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What gave it away? The fact that half your team was trying to talk to me last night?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Not my fault you showed up looking like…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely in your direction. “…that.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was,” he admitted with a small smile. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in his head, he straightened. “Wait, do you like matcha?”

The sudden change of topic caught you off guard, but you nodded. “Yeah, I love matcha. Why?”

“Perfect.” Oikawa pushed away from the counter, opening a cabinet and rummaging through its contents. “I think I have some matcha powder lying around. Someone on the team gave it to me because they thought I’d like it, but I’ve never actually bothered to make it.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “You don’t know how to make matcha?”

“Is that so weird?” he asked, glancing at you with mock offense.

“Yes!” you said, laughing. “It’s not hard at all. How do you not know how to make it?”

“Look, I’ve got plenty of other talents,” he retorted, pulling out a small tin of matcha powder. “But making fancy drinks isn’t one of them. Think you can handle teaching me, Miss ‘International Model Who Knows Everything’?”

You rolled your eyes, standing up and walking over to join him at the counter. “Fine. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Oikawa stepped aside, giving you room as you inspected the tin and found the necessary tools. He watched you intently, leaning slightly against the counter as you explained each step.

“First, you need a small bowl,” you said, grabbing one from a nearby cabinet. “Then you put a teaspoon of matcha powder in it, like this.”

You demonstrated, your movements confident and precise. Oikawa’s eyes lingered on you as you worked, taking note of how focused you looked.

“Next,” you continued, “you add a little bit of hot water. Not boiling, though—it’ll ruin the flavor.”

As you poured the water, he leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. “Okay, what’s next?”

“Now we whisk,” you said, grabbing a small bamboo whisk. You turned to him, holding it up. “You do have one of these, right?”

Oikawa blinked at the whisk, then at you. “I mean… I guess I do?”

You laughed. “Unbelievable. Anyway, you whisk it like this.” You began whisking the mixture in quick, precise motions, creating a frothy layer on top.

Oikawa leaned closer, peering over your shoulder. “You make it look easy.”

“It is easy,” you teased, glancing at him. The proximity between the two of you was suddenly very apparent—his face was only inches from yours, his warm brown eyes locked on the bowl. Your breath hitched slightly, but you forced yourself to focus.

“Here, you try,” you said, handing him the whisk.

Oikawa took it, his fingers brushing yours briefly. He hesitated for a moment, then tried to mimic your movements.

“No, no,” you said, laughing as you reached out to guide his hand. “Like this. You need to whisk in an ‘M’ or ‘W’ motion, not just stir in circles.”

Your hands covered his as you corrected his movements, and the closeness left you both a little breathless. Oikawa cleared his throat, his cheeks warming slightly.

“See?” you said softly, glancing up at him. “Not so hard.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away to hide his growing embarrassment.

Once the matcha was ready, you poured it into two mugs and handed one to him. “Alright, moment of truth. Try it.”

Oikawa hesitated, eyeing the vibrant green liquid. “It smells… earthy.”

“Just drink it,” you said, rolling your eyes.

He took a sip, his expression instantly shifting from curiosity to regret. “Oh. Oh no.”

You burst out laughing, nearly spilling your drink. “You hate it?”

“It tastes like grass!” he exclaimed, setting the mug down and sticking out his tongue dramatically. “How do people drink this stuff?”

“Not everyone has the palate of a five-year-old,” you teased, still laughing. “It’s an acquired taste.”

“Well, I’m not acquiring it anytime soon,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

You smiled, leaning against the counter. “At least you tried. That’s something.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Next time, I’m teaching you something. Something that doesn’t taste like… whatever that was.”

“Deal,” you said, raising your mug in a mock toast. “But I’m still counting this as a win.”

The playful banter between the two of you continued as you lingered in the kitchen, the golden morning light washing over the space and reflecting off the sleek countertops. Oikawa leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, shaking his head as he watched you sip your matcha with an expression of triumph.

“You’re way too smug about this,” he said, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Well, someone has to be,” you teased, taking another sip and setting the mug down. “I mean, you’re the one who didn’t even know how to whisk properly. That’s basic stuff, setter boy.”

Oikawa let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “I’m a volleyball player, not a barista. Cut me some slack, Miss Perfect.”

“Perfect?” you repeated with a smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant to be—” he started, but stopped when he saw your grin widen. He huffed. “Fine, it was a compliment. Don’t let it go to your head.”

You laughed, stepping closer to him as you leaned against the counter. “Too late.”

Oikawa shook his head in mock exasperation but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. The conversation felt effortless, the awkwardness from earlier replaced by a surprising sense of comfort.

As the laughter died down, you reached for the mug of matcha again, only for your fingers to brush against his. Oikawa had moved at the same time, intending to push the mug further aside, and the sudden contact startled both of you.

“Ah—sorry,” you said, pulling your hand back.

“No, it’s fine,” Oikawa replied, his voice quieter now.

You both froze, the playful atmosphere shifting into something else entirely. You were suddenly acutely aware of how close you were—close enough to see the golden light catch the warm brown in his eyes, close enough to feel the faint heat radiating from him.

Neither of you moved, and neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, charged with an unspoken tension.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first—maybe it was him, maybe it was you—but the distance between your faces vanished in an instant. Before you could second-guess it, your lips brushed against his, soft and tentative.

Oikawa stiffened for a fraction of a second, clearly caught off guard, but then his body relaxed, and he leaned in further, pressing his lips more firmly to yours.

The kiss was hesitant at first, like neither of you could quite believe it was happening. But as the seconds passed, it deepened, the tentative nature giving way to something more passionate. His hand came up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing your cheek as he tilted your head slightly to deepen the angle.

Your fingers curled into the muscles of his toned torso, pulling him closer as his lips moved against yours. His other hand found your waist, the touch gentle but firm as he pulled you flush against him. The heat between you was undeniable now, your breaths mingling as the kiss grew more heated, more desperate.

Your back pressed against the counter as Oikawa crowded closer, one hand braced against the marble to steady himself. The other remained on your waist, his fingers curling slightly as if he were afraid you might pull away.

But you didn’t. If anything, you leaned into him more, your hands moving to tangle in his hair. He let out a soft, almost surprised sound against your lips, his grip on your waist tightening in response.

Time seemed to blur as the kiss turned into a full-blown makeout session, the golden morning light casting everything in a dreamlike glow. The taste of matcha lingered faintly on your lips, but it was quickly forgotten as Oikawa consumed your attention entirely.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath.

“Well,” you murmured, your voice slightly breathless, “that… wasn’t in the plan.”

Oikawa let out a soft laugh, his lips curling into a small, lopsided grin. “Yeah, definitely not.”

He kisses you again.

You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his. “But you’re not complaining, are you?”

“Not at all,” he admitted, his voice low and warm. “In fact, I think I could get *kiss* used to this.”

Your lips quirked up into a playful smile. “Careful, setter boy. You’re starting to sound smitten.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, surprising even himself with his honesty.

The golden light continued to spill into the room as the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s presence, the rest of the world forgotten for the moment.

Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

Hi! :) honestly, in your 'I bet on losing dogs' I can totally see reader becoming an anti-hero, but not operating in Gotham anymore to limit the amount of times she has to run into the family. I think that a side effect of the snake bite would give control over her pupils so that they look more snake-like when she goes out on her own patrols, making it harder to decipher who she would be behind a mask. I can also see her leaving the manor entirely and just avoiding the family as a whole- maybe going to stay with a friend so that she isnt homeless (seeing as she's underage to move out on her own)- it aint like the family notices her anyways, she'll be long gone before they can even bother to look after they realize they fucked up. And since she has lived with them for years, she knows how to cover her tracks, so it would be even harder for them to find her. ~🐍anon

heyyyy :) yes, im leaning toward an anti-hero path for reader! yeah reader is so tired of the Batfam's bullshit that she just packs her things and goes to NYC for school. no one really cares and Bruce is more than glad to send her off after the whole "framing Tiffany" situation. reader leaves gotham literally that next week. it signifies her finally giving up on the family and trying to earn their love.

about the eye thing, essentially my plan is that when reader is flirting or seducing someone her pupils narrow and her eyes glint. kind of like a snake luring in it's prey. she's not really worried about the batfam knowing who she is by her eyes because they most likely don't even know her eye color! it literally takes them discovering Tiffany is a spy to know reader is gone.

[yandereunsolved]

𐚁 Yandere High Honor Arthur Morgan (RDR2) 𐚁

One misstep in a mission led him into what could only be described as a more torturous cycle of love and abuse than he has ever felt before. Real smart of him to fall head over heels, quite literally, with someone hell-bent on locking him up. And maybe he'd be okay with that if you were the sheriff and he'd get to tease you before making some grandiose escape. But you had to be a bounty hunter—and an annoyingly good one at that.

You just don't give up. But neither does he.

He always manages to slip through your fingers, as your heart has evaded his. You'll get him this time or die trying.

He really could leave you in the dust with his trusty steed if he wanted, but it's cute how hard you try.

He pulls on the reins as he narrowly avoids another tree. Damn forests. Always growing those things.

He sneaks a look back at you so eagerly chasing after him, a deer after another one of its kind. How fortuitous.

He shouts at you, hoping to provoke your wrath, "Aye. What's the phrase? Seventh times the charm?"

He chuckles near lightheartedly, but you only hear a vicious cackle. With a single bullet from one of his twin Schofield revolvers, you feel your horse's legs buckle under you before you get a chance to respond. You swear this man can be in two places at once. By the time you have rolled off, not being able to spare a second to look for injuries, and stood up, Arthur is sitting on his high horse, quite literally, holding the revolver a couple feet from your head.

"Sorry, partner. Seems like you winnin' jus' wasn't in the cards."

You raise your hands from your sides, keeping your fists closed, your small backup slip joint knife in one.

"Seems like you're hiding somethin', darlin', or is this just another one of your tricks?"

You realize you haven't responded to him at all, almost frozen. Damn it. Fuck it all. It's not time for your 'instincts' to kick in. You become disturbingly aware of the metallic copper taste overwhelming your taste buds.

"Come on now!" He gets off his horse, yours having limped off, not rideable in its condition anyhow.

"The big bad bounty hunter who has taken in some of Colm's men gets all shy when in my presence." He gets closer. He seemingly walks with ease, but you can see the tenseness of his muscles, a strange mix of conflicting emotions in his weary eyes.

"Seems you're easier than I thought," his chapped lips murmur into your ear, innuendo woven throughout his tone—unashamed, almost.

Your body goes into the motions before your mind has time to make a calculated decision. You open your slipjoint knife to slit his jugular. A dead bounty is better than a dead bounty hunter. His hand wraps around your wrist, twisting it, causing you to drop the knife. You fall to your knees in pain as his grip tightens, no joy in his eyes from harming you.

"A-Ah, hah... fuck me," you breathily moan out, the adrenaline that's pumping into your veins becoming feckless.

You don't know how willing I am to take you up on that offer.

Arthur shoves you onto the dewy ground. Your knees buckle beneath you as your chest makes itself well acquainted with the dirt. He straddles your hips, the familiar sound of rope moving in his… his rugged hands.

The world threatens to turn black on you, but you stay conscious out of spite.

"You'll rot in hell, Arthur Morgan. Arrested or not," you spit out through gritted teeth, your blood seeping into the earth and the collar of your clothes.

Your body sits somewhere between alert and comatose, trying to find a split moment to make your escape before hogtied.

He chuckles.

"You ain't the first person to tell me that. You are the most attractive," he gruffly huffs out.

His thighs squeeze your sides tighter as he roughly ties your wrists and knots them together. He lingers for a moment, admiring you in this position. But he is a respectable man, well, somewhat respectable. So he keeps an 'appropriate,' appropriate for an outlaw grip, on you as he binds your ankles.

"If I was a worse man, I'd kill you." If I was a better man, I'd let you go.

He makes it a point to show the difference in strength as he connects the bindings of your hands and ankles together. His hands wander to various limbs, holding them down as you begin to struggle, frustrated by how long he's taking. How embarrassing this is.

"Kill me or let me go! You won't do it, though, will you? Inside of that twisted, fucked-up mind of yours, you like me. Maybe I remind you of the innocent souls you've tortured, you sick—"

Your voice is dampened by the sweaty bandana he stuffs in your mouth and ties around the back of your head. You still try to shout, albeit quite muffled, and you're getting light-headed again.

Arthur wants to say, 'God, you look good this way. The things you do to a poor man like me.' But refrains. 'I really am too much of a sick, ugly fuck to expect love from you.'

"You talk too much, dear. This ole' trick should shut you up for a while."

He hoists you up onto his horse, securing you to it. In a last-ditch effort, you try to use the leverage of the horse to nudge the cloth out of your mouth. You get it a little ways out and cause one more uproarious ruckus with your mouth.

"Or I could take your tongue, but I suspect you like it."

You can tell by his tone that he isn't joking. You stop and quiet yourself. You almost want to curl up into yourself, but don't.

"Good job, darling. Seems you're finally leaning how to listen."

He talks to you sweeter than his horse. A shiver runs down your spine as your cheeks heat up, all involuntary, of course. As if it couldn't get any worse, he pats the top of your head, rubbing it as if you needed to be soothed like an animal in distress.

"We'll work on it. Together."

He mounts his filly, instructing her to start galloping. You don't know how long this ride will be or if you'll survive, although you suspect you will—and you'll have to play house or give in to whatever fucked-up fantasies are going on in that mind of his. You're too much of everything at this point. So you lie defeated, hogtied like some common criminal, on the back of the horse that belongs to one of the West's most notorious outlaws.

"I’m a poor, lonesome, cowboy." "Poor, lonesome, cowboy." "Poor, lonesome, cowboy." "Taking my darling back to camp."

[tarotmundomonde]

First of half of 2025 will you officially start dating

Yes or no and a short explanation :)

pick a number 1-5 OR an emoji 🤎 💚 🤍 🖤 💙

(ps. this reading is for practice and for fun)

1.🤎 The answer is yes. It looks like most likely this is someone you know, who's been around for a while, it could even be a friend. It doesn't seem like this will surprise you. To be honest, it looks more like you've been single for a long time and just want to have someone. Like dating for the sake of dating, just to get things moving, have things happening. So giving it a chance. It's like you know this person and decide to be open to hang out and get to know each other more and see, if it can go somewhere. It seems that one main reason is truly that there isn't much going on, no options really and no manifestations. Even if you do manifestations, they are not working. So like said, it's like dating for the sake of dating.

2.💚 The answer is no. It looks like there is a variety of reasons to why. If you are into someone not available, it does look like you will drop it. If you simply don't have time, you seem to enjoy life as it is. But it looks like you do have new beginnings coming in, possibilities to connect and new possible connections that can lead to something later on. And one thing to mention is that there could or will be someone around you that you could be interested in and it looks like there will be an opening. For example if you are classmates, you might suddenly end up in the same group, working on a project together and that will open the door for possibilities.

3.🤍 The answer is yes. If you know this person, it's someone you've never talked with, no direct replies, no direct messages. But it looks like, as you read this you might already know, who this could end up being. If it's someone you haven't met yet, it looks like you'll somehow know, when you see them, like you'll just know this is the person. There will be this instant "click", inner knowing. You'll feel something special. It's a little difficult to explain, but there is this magical feeling to it. The more you see each other, the more you spend time together, it's kinda like you grow on each other. It's like it just feels natural and comfortable and there is this pull, wanting to be around each other, liking each other's company. It's a sweet feel good energy. It will take a while, however, it will be your person, who will say let's start dating.

4.🖤 The answer is yes. It looks like your energy will be stronger than usually. People notice you and someone will be brave enough to express their interest in you, flirting with you. And frankly, it looks like you like their looks and you decide to give it a chance. I think there will be heavy flirting first. Like for real heavy flirting. And it looks like it will feel natural to be around each other and flirting with each other. They might kiss you before you start dating. You'll really, really dig the physical aspect. Like the flirting, kissing, affection, you'll both love it. There will be strong attraction. Also, really heavy sexual energy & attraction. There is going to be a sense of you've found your type of person, they've found their type of person. You'll both think you've found someone you could call "my person".

5.💙 The answer is yes. This could be an ex or simply someone, who previously rejected you. But it's someone you really desire, you find them hot. It looks like when they come back they had quite a tough ending with whoever they were dating. And now they come back to you looking for a distraction, for a rebound. It looks like you'll end up together, because you have doubts about what if you missed out on something. Like a fear of loss and missing out. And a sense of better something than nothing.

[grapejuicebrat]

between us - d.s. pt. 1

The moment Drew first notices Y/N, and the tension begins to grow.

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———

Drew Starkey had never been someone who believed in love at first sight. He’d seen it too many times—celebrities swearing they’d found “the one,” only for the tabloids to rip them apart a few months later. He wasn’t naïve. He knew better than to buy into the romantic fantasy. And for the longest time, he had convinced himself that his career, his ambition, was all he needed.

He was fine with his life, or at least he told himself that every morning as he stared at his reflection, dressed in the same worn leather jacket and the faded T-shirt that seemed to comfort him more than any fancy suit ever could. Hollywood had a way of making you forget who you were, of transforming you into the person everyone else wanted you to be. Drew had spent years trying to keep a part of himself intact, hiding in plain sight, playing roles both on and off-screen, but never fully engaging with anyone—until he met you.

You were 18, a fresh face to the world, but to Drew, you seemed like something else entirely. The first time he noticed you, you had walked into the café with a kind of quiet confidence that was hard to miss. It was a small local place, tucked away in a corner of the city where celebrities rarely came, which was exactly how Drew liked it. He was tired of being a target for the paparazzi, tired of pretending that his life was perfect. Here, he was just another guy with a coffee in his hand.

But you—your energy was different. There was something about the way you carried yourself, something that made Drew’s chest tighten in ways he didn’t quite understand. Your eyes weren’t full of awe when you saw him. No, you glanced at him briefly, and then you went about your business, ordering a drink and finding your usual seat by the window, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Drew couldn’t stop watching you, though. The way your fingers brushed the pages of your book as you read, the way your lips moved when you muttered something to yourself, the little things that most people would overlook, but Drew couldn’t stop noticing. He had never been a fan of people who were “too much”—too loud, too bold, too attention-seeking. But you? You were different. You didn’t try to impress anyone. You simply existed, and in a world full of noise, that was somehow the most captivating thing Drew had ever seen.

At first, he told himself it was just curiosity. Just a passing attraction. He wasn’t about to get involved with someone so young. He had seen the damage that age gaps like that could do. The power dynamics, the imbalances—he wasn’t blind to it. But every day, there you were, sitting in that same spot by the window, looking like you belonged there as much as he did. And slowly, the line between casual glances and unspoken attraction started to blur.

Days turned into weeks, and Drew found himself making excuses to visit the café more often. He didn’t need the caffeine; he just needed to be there, to watch you without saying anything, to pretend that this strange pull he felt toward you didn’t exist. He had convinced himself that it was just a phase. That it would pass. But it didn’t. It only grew stronger.

Then one day, as he walked in, there you were, sitting at your usual table by the window, but this time, you were reading something different. A notebook, filled with scribbled notes, your handwriting a beautiful mess. You didn’t look up when Drew entered, but something about the way you were so absorbed in whatever you were writing made Drew feel like an intruder.

He moved quietly toward the counter, ordered his usual coffee, and then turned to leave. But before he could take a step, he felt your gaze on him. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, everything around them seemed to disappear. The café, the low murmur of conversations, the hiss of the espresso machine—none of it existed. It was just the two of you, in that quiet, charged space. Drew didn’t know if it was the way you looked at him, or the way his heart beat a little faster, but in that moment, he felt something shift.

“Hey,” you said, your voice soft but not shy. “You’re Drew Starkey, right?”

Drew froze, almost too stunned to answer. People recognized him all the time, of course, but there was something different in your voice. It wasn’t admiration, or surprise—it was casual. Like you were asking about the weather.

“Yeah,” he replied, feeling the weight of the moment settle on his chest. He shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do or say next. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

You gave him a small smile, a little lopsided but genuine. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I see you here all the time.”

Drew blinked. “Really?”

You nodded, tapping the side of your coffee cup thoughtfully. “You’re the one who always orders the same thing—black coffee. Every day.” You leaned back in your seat, narrowing your eyes as if trying to place something. “It’s funny, you know? I always thought actors were supposed to be flashy, always ordering the most expensive drinks or whatever. But not you. You’re… simple.”

Drew chuckled, feeling a strange sense of relief that you weren’t fawning over him like so many others did. There was no flattery, no “Can I get an autograph?” just a conversation like any other.

“I guess I’m not much of a flashy guy,” he said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“No, I don’t think you are,” you replied, eyes twinkling. “But there’s something about you that’s different.”

Drew’s heart skipped. He wasn’t used to people seeing him like that—like he was more than just the role he played on screen. But somehow, you did.

For the rest of the afternoon, Drew stayed in the café longer than he planned. He found himself taking sneaky glances at you when you weren’t looking, not sure what was happening but unable to stop himself. There was an undeniable pull. You were so much younger than him. There were rules—unwritten rules—about this sort of thing. The difference in your ages couldn’t just be ignored. But Drew was beginning to understand that he wasn’t the one in control here. Not anymore.

When he finally stood to leave, you flashed him one last smile. “See you tomorrow, Drew.”

And that was the moment he realized there was no turning back. He couldn’t get you out of his head.

[waynes-multiverse]

The Exit Strategy – Part 3

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there’s one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, some spice & implied smut (incl. a bit of dirty talk), mentions of a terrorist attack, a tiny bit of angst & feels, fluffy fluff

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: Thank you guys so much for your feedback on the last two parts! So happy I get to finally share this little adventure with you and that you all loved it so much 🥹🩵 Welp, let's dive in before I get too fucking sappy... 😝

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Part 3: This Is a Heart-To-Heart

With pursed lips and a clicking tongue, Russell’s eyes skimmed the seemingly endless aisle of breakfast cereals, his pointer finger drifting from box to box before it landed on the Lucky Charms. His lips rose to a satisfied grin, his heart skipping a beat as a memory popped into his mind.

The supermarket’s PA speakers announced the opening of a third cash register during the evening rush as Colter stood idly by, hands in the pockets of his jacket, and blew a raspberry. In his periphery, Russell could see his younger brother check his watch for the fifth time and smiled a little to himself.

“Russ, uhm, hate to break up your very serious choice of breakfast cereal here, but we need to move. We’re gonna be late,” Colter finally dared to remind him. Russell had wondered how long it would take. “Can’t you do your grocery shopping some other time?”

Russell only chuckled at that. “Oh, this isn’t that. I need this for tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” Colter wasn’t entirely convinced. “You do know we’re invited to dinner, right? There’s gonna be food. You don’t need to bring a–,” his eyes narrowed at the item Russell threw into the cart, “–box of Lucky Charms. Wow. Okay…” Colter scratched the nape of his neck. “You know, most people bring a bottle of wine. Flowers… You want me to–”

“Nope, I’m good.” Russell shook his head. “I have a plan, alright?”

“Oh, so now you have a plan?” Colter deadpanned. “Where was that plan when I got beat up in a supermarket alley?”

Russell snorted a laugh and cocked his brow. “Is that why you’re so jumpy since we walked in here? Did she actually give you supermarket PTSD?”

“I’m not jumpy,” Colter defended with a too defensive shrug.

“Well, alright, I’m almost done here,” Russell assured him and pulled out a tiny piece of paper with unreadable scribbles on it – his shopping list. “All I need now are Nacho Cheese Doritos, rocky road ice cream, brownies, and potato chips. Luckily, I already got the beer in the trunk.”

Colter’s frown deepened, but his lips quirked a tiny smile of amusement. “Alright, should I even ask?”

Russell laughed. “Trust me. Those are all the things I need to win her back. I know what I’m doing.”

Colter relented with a sigh. “Alright, gimme the list. I track down the snack aisle.”

“If you find them, I’ll give you a five dollar reward, little brother,” Russell quipped, earning him the middle finger as Colter rounded the corner.

Russell exhaled a sigh of relief once he was alone. All afternoon, he’d wracked his brain if he could or should tell Colter about you – about the fact he had a wife and two kids. Was now the right moment? Or had it already come and gone?

And if Russell was looking for a petty excuse, he could just audaciously claim Colter never asked. Never asked if Russell had someone special in his life. Never asked if he was an uncle yet. So, was it really on Russell to offer information that was never asked of him? Now, that wasn’t really his nature, was it?

Like he said, petty excuses…

Russell knew it was (mostly) on him. He did give way to the illusion he was a lone wolf without any strings anywhere. At the end of all his pondering, however, he came to the conclusion it was best to let you navigate how to proceed. You’d always been his compass.

On a late summer evening, with the sun slowly approaching the horizon and dipping the suburban cul-de-sac in shades of golden orange, you found two men on your doorstep: One who only looked familiar despite knowing him almost your entire adult life, and one who seemed familiar, even though you’d never met him before, but some unmistakable features and mannerisms reminded you of your husband.

Said husband beamed at you from ear to ear, carrying two paper bags worth of groceries in his arms. “Hey, sweetheart.”

The heart in your ribcage pounded faster as your eyes landed on his smile. Nothing and no one ever broke your composure or pulled the rug out from under your feet – but Russell had always managed to do both since day one.

“Well, I guess… come on in, guys,” you said with a small sigh of hesitation and held the door open wider, mentally preparing for an entirely unplanned night – they usually were whenever you spent time with the green-eyed chaos theory.

Never in a million years did you think you’d end up here when you met a young soldier on a sunny day at the American embassy in Iraq and put him through a baptism of enemy gunfire only a few hours later. And to be fair, he’d always been handsome, but the quirky shit didn’t reveal itself till later. If Russell Shaw had been a book, you would’ve definitely misjudged him by his cover.

Russell set the brown bags down on the kitchen island, a small smirk flickering across his plump lips. Internally, you heaved another sigh. Of course the idiot would think about sex – a curse conjured up by your own making. If Russell ever had a bad influence in his life, it would’ve been you.

“So, what did you bring me here?” you entertained his little plan, spying into one of the bags. You already had a pretty strong inkling of what might be inside, your heart swelling that he, A, cared and, B, even went as far as making a thoughtful, swoon-worthy effort.

He used to do these things all the time – till it all eventually stopped.

��Only the best for my girl,” Russell said, chuckling giddily as he hauled a tub of rocky road from a bag as if he was making a bunny appear from a hat. Only in your opinion, it was a way better magic trick.

“Oh no, you are the fucking best!” You squeezed his shoulders, short of jumping fully on him, with a grin from ear to ear. Your cheek muscles even began to hurt. You hadn’t smiled this much in ages. “Look at this! You even got brownies! You’re unbelievable, Shaw. You know I’ve been craving this shit for months. We’re supposed to be an organic family,” you explained with an eye roll, your hands still rummaging eagerly through the bags.

“Yeah, I figured somethin’ like this. Remember when you had to pretend to be vegetarian for that greenwashing gala?”

“God, don’t remind me. The asshole served cauliflower steaks and then turned around and shot a fucking lion,” you scoffed, both of you chuckling at the memory. Russell had been right in the chicken coop – it felt like no time had passed at all.

Not touching him and falling into his strong, warm embrace was hard. Not kissing him was harder. And being in his near vicinity without doing any of these things was unbearable. You weren’t just important to Russell; he was important to you, too. For a long time, he’d been the only person you could trust and confide in. You never lied to each other – that had been a rule.

“Wow, okay, so this is different,” Colter noted, you and Russell both glancing up at the young man across the island. As he was only met with two furrowed brows, he clarified, a finger gesturing to your cross necklace. “Just the-, uh, the whole swearing… I mean, at church you were… you know.”

You laughed when you realized what he meant. God knows your aliases had confused the shit out of Russell in the beginning, too – till he learned to take advantage of your role-playing skills. Then, he had tons of fun with it.

“Yeah, I know. Quite the mind-fuck, isn’t it? I usually only pretend to be someone else for a short job – a day or two, a single event. Deep-covers like this aren’t my favorite either,” you shared and hoped it would signal to Colter that he could relax. If his shoulders became any tenser, you’d worry they might freeze that way.

“Speaking of, where’s your husband?” Russell chimed in with a teasing grin.

For the briefest second, your reply would’ve been, “Which one?” Russell could see it, too – the twinkle in your eyes – but then you stopped short when you noticed his look.

Colter didn’t know you two were married. Oh, Russell…

“Basement. Finishing up our report,” you said in a quieter voice, turning on the faucet of the kitchen sink.

Colter’s brow knitted with an amused smile when Russell turned on the radio as well. “Is that really necessary?”

“Can’t be too careful,” both you and Russell replied, not even noticing you spoke at the same time, too zoned in on your routine.

“Who’s your mark?” Russell then asked, leaning back against the kitchen island in an angle that shielded his presence from the window as you got to work on your fake dishes.

“Congressman Eric Mueller.”

“A congressman? Really?” Colter’s brow raised before his eyes showed a little intrigue. “What’d he do?”

“Selling sensitive national security information to foreign agents,” you answered.

“How’s the pastor involved?” Russell asked, opening a box of Lucky Charms and stuffing a handful of dry cereal into his mouth.

“How do you know he’s involved?”

Russell only chuckled at your blatant diversion. “Oh, c’mon! You’re an open-minded person. I know you don’t hate the man for no reason. So, what’s the reason?”

You sighed in proud defeat – checkmate for Russell. “Mueller is laundering money through the church. Pastor’s taking a cut.”

“And?”

“He’s a pedo,” you finally admitted, dumping a clean plate ungraciously into the soapy water before swinging around to meet Russell’s eyes.

“There it is…” He nodded with a winning smirk that felt wrong, rubbing a hand through his beard. “Thought I caught a bit of a creeper vibe. Figured it was just all the kumbaya Jesus shit.”

“I wish… Every time he touches my arm, I wanna cut his hand off with a fucking spoon.”

“Well, we might get to that later if we find the time,” Russell quipped, flicking a marshmallow into the air before catching it with his mouth. You frowned – your son did the same damn thing in the mornings. “What information is Mueller selling?”

“Security protocols, blueprints…” you replied.

“To what?”

“Mall of America,” was all you said before the kitchen fell silent. Crickets. Well, and the faucet and radio… “Our intel suggests they’re planing an attack in December.”

“Well, merry Christmas,” Russell huffed bitterly. “So, that’s the carrot.”

“Yup, that’s the carrot,” you confirmed.

The lives of innocent children and families going about their Christmas shopping in America’s biggest mall was what the agency used to lure you back into the field – the carrot in front of your nose.

For days, you had debated whether to take the job or not, leave your family, and go back undercover to do things no one else wanted to do. But one look through the door at your peacefully sleeping son and daughter made the decision for you. How could you not go? If you didn’t do this, other parents might not get the same courtesy of seeing their children safe and sound in their beds and kissing them goodnight. So, you left your children for the sake of others.

Russell nodded with understanding, telling you he would’ve done the same thing if he were in your shoes. You knew he would have. Still, a part of you felt incredibly guilty, always hoping that Lewis and Amelia would understand someday when they were older.

“Who is it? Russia? China?” Russell asked.

“Neither. It’s an extremist splinter group. Has ties to both ISIS and Hezbollah, but works mostly out of Iran,” you said.

“How did you infiltrate Mueller? A guy trying to blow up a mall doesn’t strike me as a good Christian,” Russell noted.

“Well, he’s not, but his wife, Clara, is. She’s very involved in the church. Was easy to get in this way. I helped her with a few charity events. She got me a job as a bookkeeper for the church, not knowing I’d actually find a bunch of evidence there. Afterward, she invited me for coffee. Now, we have brunch on Mondays, play bridge on Wednesdays and tennis on Fridays. I’m at her house all the time. God knows I have the place bugged in every room now at this point…”

“Bridge,” Russell snorted in amusement, earning him a scolding glare from you. “Does she know?”

You shook your head. “Nope, doesn’t have a clue what her husband’s up to. Wonder what that feels like…” you muttered the last sentence under your breath, Russell narrowing his eyes at you. “He was in the Navy. Stationed in Pakistan. We think he got approached there. He was probably a sleeper agent till he got elected.”

“How far is he in it?”

“Honestly, can’t say. He might be fully turned or just doing it for the money and glory.”

“Glory?” Colter cocked a brow.

You confirmed his shock with a nod. “The mall’s in his district. After the attack, the plan is to portray him as a hero who vows to avenge his constituents. Puts him on the map as running mate for the next election.”

“Then they’d have someone on the top level,” Russell deduced thoughtfully and then found your eyes. “We can help.”

You felt the creases between your eyebrows deepening.

“Yeah, and I already told you – no, thank you,” you huffed, shaking your head. “I didn’t tell you all this as a sitrep, Russ. I told you, so you know we have everything under control, and you can leave again.”

“We both know I’m not going anywhere,” Russell replied stubbornly, his stern gaze drilling into yours. “I can help.”

Undeniably, Russell, with his expertise and certain skill set, would be a helpful addition. You had never trusted someone more in the field than him. The two of you had been an unstoppable team. After almost twenty years together, you could communicate with just a single look. You knew he always had your back, just as he knew you’d always have his – and in the espionage life, that was probably the greatest asset of all.

However, while your mind all too eagerly agreed with him, your heart protested just as heavily. It was a high-risk, high-stakes operation, and a part of you wanted to protect him and keep him as far away from it as possible. You’d known that feeling almost your whole adult life – since the day you’d met him, you had wanted to protect him. Whenever you ignored him, shot him down, or even left him, you were always doing it for his own good. Protecting him meant sometimes hurting him.

But the persistent motherfucker never listens…

Bringing your husband into this and turning your children into orphans wasn’t your only fear, though. There was still Colter.

“Oh, I know you can. I trained you. Remember?” you retorted with a fiery look.

Russell clicked his tongue. “So, this isn’t about me. It’s about him.”

“Oh, ‘cause I’m not one of you guys?” Colter quirked a brow and assured you with easiness in the shrug of his shoulders, “I can handle it.”

Ignoring him, your focus stayed on Russell – the culprit. “You brought a fucking clueless wildcard into a clandestine operation! No offense, Colter…”

“None taken,” Colter said with pursed lips.

“Bad move, Shaw,” you continued directing your anger at your husband.

“I can vouch for him. He’s good, alright? Trust me. He helped me out with something before. And just recently, he even stumbled onto a DoD black site,” Russell reasoned with a weak chuckle like he was sharing the family newsletter.

Your frown intensified. “Yeah, the word stumbled really fills me with tons of confidence here.” Then, you expelled a deep sigh. “Look, I know you two had a weird fucking childhood, but you, of all people, know it’s not the same thing! He isn’t trained for this.” Your eyes then drifted to the younger Shaw. “No offense, Colter, but if I ever need someone to kill a bunny, I call.”

“Little offense taken,” Colter quipped with a creased brow.

“I assure you he’s good, alright? Great, even,” Russell said, stepping closer to you. Your heart jittered, the movement like dominos that fell a path from your ribs up your spine and down your arms where goosebumps formed in their wake. “Everything he doesn’t know, I’ll teach him on the road. You don’t have to worry about a thing, sweetheart. Shaws are excellent at improvising. Remember the helicopter?”

“I remember screaming and wishing to die quickly for two hours straight.”

Russell pursed his lips, hiding an amused smile.

“You can fly a helicopter?” Colter asked, brow rising in genuine interest. He slightly leaned forward as if to hear better, cherishing those bits and pieces of his brother’s mysterious life. He hoped one day he would’ve collected enough of them till the nonsensical puzzle matched the picture on the box.

“Yup,” Russell grinned boyishly, wagging his eyebrows. “Named her Birdie. She was a beauty.”

“She was a piece of shit. And he couldn’t fly at the time, hence all the screaming on my part,” you clarified.

“She made me take flying lessons after, but honestly, I had a pretty good handle on it the first time round,” Russell bragged, earning him another frown from you. His irresistibly green eyes then bored into yours. “But it worked, didn’t it? We’re both still here, right?”

You exhaled another long sigh. You hated when he was right.

“Just take tonight to think about it, okay?”

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” you softened, feeling a warm palm gently splay across your back – slightly lower than a friend would place it. You knew Russell was lulling you into agreement – you had taught him that damn trick yourself – but you couldn’t deny it felt so, so, so nice.

“C’mon, ice cream’s melting. Let’s get some unhealthy food into you before you chew someone else’s head off,” Russell teased.

“I am kinda hungry,” you admitted in a meek mumble.

“Oh, I know. I can tell.” Russell chuckled behind you and kissed the top of your head, his arms snaking around your waist.

Fuck. It felt too good. Too familiar.

You wanted his hands to wander down, fingers lifting your skirt, brushing along your inner thighs on their way up. You wanted his head buried between your burning legs, fingers bruisingly gripping your hips while his tongue dipped into your heat. You wanted him to step even closer, tear your lace panties down, pry your buttcheeks apart, and take you hard and deep.

God, you hadn’t had sex in forever. Who could think clearly like that?

Swaying out of his embrace, you grabbed one of the paper bags and looked at him suggestively. “Wanna take this downstairs? I have to show you something.”

Russell’s lips twitched with a smile. He knew what it meant – not here.

His gaze then drifted to Colter. “You’re gonna be alright up here for a while?”

“I’m good.” His little brother nodded with a shadow of a smile as if he had only waited for the moment the two of you would excuse yourselves and retreat.

“I’ll send Tom up here. Have him brief you,” you said, both brothers’ eyes then blinking at you.

“Does this mean I’m in?” Colter asked.

“If you want to, you’re in,” you stated and muzzled a sigh.

Colter’s head bobbed for a moment, a hand scratching his throat. “Well, not exactly something you say no to.”

Russell and you shared an amused look and both replied, “We know.”

“Oh, Tom’s also made some lasagna. I’ll tell him to feed you,” you added kindly.

“Thank you.” Colter matched your smile.

“Whoa, not so fast,” Russell threw in, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Did your cute little hands have any involvement in the making of said meal?”

“No, Tom wouldn’t let me get near it,” you huffed with an annoyed eye roll.

“Smart man,” Russell quipped and then turned to his younger brother. “You should be safe to eat it, then.”

His joke earned him a whack of his chest from you.

“Ow!”

Russell followed you down the creaking wooden steps to the basement. The walls were still raw, the giant room unrenovated. In passing, you switched on the washing machine for an adequate noise level and pulled back the thick, navy curtains to reveal a whole setup with desks and computers.

Russell whistled lowly, green eyes flashing around the room. “Got the whole spy gear down here, huh?”

“Yup.”

Sliding an old artwork to the side, you entered a code into the wall safe. It held mostly sensitive information but also some personal items. You retrieved your private phone before locking it again. You scrolled through your photos until you found what you were looking for, handing it to Russell.

As soon as his eyes landed on a picture of his son on a swing set – with a grin brighter than the sun and one that looked just like a copy of his father’s – Russell inhaled sharply, his grip on the phone tightening.

“He looks like you,” you said softly, leaning your head against his bicep, tangling your arms around his. Then, you swiped to the next picture. “That’s Amelia on her second birthday. She liked blowing out the candles so much, I had to light them seventeen times in a row,” you giggled. But Russell only swallowed thickly, quietly laying the phone down on top of the dryer. You could see the tears well in his eyes again. “Was this too much? I’m sorry.”

Russell shook his head, offering you a sad smile. “No, uhm, it’s too little.”

“Yeah, I get that. Feels like they change every time I turn around. Bet they’re already looking different now,” you said with the same regret-filled sadness in your voice.

“When this is over, you think I could see them?”

The hopefulness shimmering in his green orbs devastated you, adding a few more cracks to your already damaged and bruised heart.

“Of course you can. You can see them as much as you want,” you assured him. “Maybe Amelia first? She’s still little. I mean, it’s just–”

“No, I get it,” he brushed off your concerns with an easy smile, but you could see all the hurt underneath it. “Lewis is older. It’s more complicated. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“Russ… Of course he remembers you,” you said. “You’re his dad. He has a picture of you on his nightstand. He talks to you every day.”

Russell snorted a humorless chuckle, the guilt eating him alive from the inside out. “Kinda makes it worse, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think it does,” you replied, smiling softly. “He missed you. We all did.”

Russell’s lips on yours took you by surprise, reminding you of the first kiss you’d shared – only back then, the roles had been reversed, and he’d been the shocked one.

The kiss was gentle and tentative, nothing hasty or thoughtless about it. He still tasted the same. He still felt the same, even though the beard tickled slightly. His large hands cupped your face – a perfect fit – his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as he pulled back, hazy pine green eyes searching for yours.

“Sorry,” he said with a rather unapologetic smile and a bob of his Adam’s apple. “Couldn’t hold back any longer.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled with a half-hearted shrug and tiptoed up to claim his lips again, your arms draping around his neck and pulling him closer.

What started slow and careful became a fever dream when your tongue slipped inside his mouth, his hands wandering down your sides till they reached their rightful place on your lower back. Your mind flooded with every kiss, every touch the two of you had ever shared, your heart close to bursting because it had found its missing piece again.

As he drew back, his nose brushed yours, his fingers lovingly tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. His eyes then focused on the top of your head. A smile rose on your lips, guessing his intentions.

“Can I?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip. “Go ahead.”

Carefully, he lifted the wig from your head, and a few sorries and giggles later, the fake hair was gone. Removing the hair clips and tie, you gestured with your chin to the desk.

“Can you hand me that blue case?”

Russell grabbed the small case and turned to you with a cheeky smile. “Eye drops, too?”

You nodded, and he came back to you with the requested items. Pulling your eyelids open with your fingers, you took out the colored lenses, placing them back in their case.

Russell held up the eye drops. “Want me to do the honors?”

You giggled and gave him another nod. “Yes, please. You know I hate doing that stuff.” Russell then gently pulled down your eyelid as you tilted your head back. “God, this feels so sexy…”

Russell laughed, the sound reverberating deep in his chest. “You’re always sexy. Doesn’t matter if I’m giving you eye drops or stitching you up.”

“That’s sweet, but shut up. We both know you’re lying. You’ve sewn me back together in some pretty rough states,” you remarked, but your cheeks couldn’t stop from rising higher and higher.

“And vice versa,” Russell said simply, administering the last drop into your right eye.

“Ugh, fucking burns.” You sniffled, blinking your eyes a couple of times till the sting subsided.

Russell’s hands then cupped your cheeks, bringing your focus to him. He smiled at you, bright and warm. “There she is,” he said softly, his voice only a whisper. Your heart tugged in your chest, trying to squeeze itself through your ribs just to be closer to him. “Missed those beautiful eyes.”

“You’re so cheesy,” you teased and pressed your lips on his, slow and sensual – careful. As you glanced up at him, your heart cracked a little more again, your eyes welling up and burning with tears.

“Hey, what is that? Why are you crying?” Russell worriedly checked on you like you were a kid with a fever, his thumb catching a salty teardrop that had escaped.

“It’s the eye drops,” you replied lightheartedly in a last ditch effort to hide the all-consuming guilt in your stomach.

Russell sent you a kind smile, stroking your cheek. “I don’t think it’s the eye drops, sweetheart…”

“I’m so sorry, Russ. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought I was helping you…”

“I know. I know…” he soothed and opened his arms. “C’mere.” As you fell into his embrace, he kissed your crown repeatedly, his arms holding you just as tightly as you held onto him. One palm patted the back of your head, the other rubbing your back in soothing circles. “I know you did, okay? And I know why you left. It did help, you know? To get my own head outta my ass… Just one of those things, I guess. Didn’t know I needed to hit rock bottom first before realizing what I’d lost. I’m only sorry I didn’t get my shit together sooner.”

Swallowing, with an ear on his chest, you listened to his heartbeat for a moment – steady, strong, safe. There wasn’t one single person in this world that could give you what Russell always could – comfort. It was what you wanted the most, what you needed during your worst times, and what you goddamn craved, always.

“You know, when you didn’t come back after a year, I was scared you finally found what you’re looking for, and it wasn’t me,” you admitted quietly, swallowing.

Before Russell, you barely ever shared your true feelings and thoughts with anyone, not even family and friends. Your heart, mind, and soul stayed hidden like your personality, your identity, and everything else that made you you. But Russell had always seen beyond the walls, the masks, and the aliases.

He drew back slightly, the hand that tangled in your hair lifting your head till you met his eyes and their loving crinkles. “Never gonna happen,” he assured you with nothing but honesty in his gaze. “You’re it, baby. You know I’m a one-and-only kinda guy,” he quipped, flashing you his signature grin. “You’re everything I ever wanted, sweetheart. The only family I ever had, really. I should’ve told you that sooner. Maybe you wouldn’t have left then.”

“This is soon enough,” you said and pecked his lips. “Why didn’t you tell Colter about me? Or the fact that he’s an uncle?”

With a sigh, Russell grabbed the brown paper bags, the ice cream in it surely melted by now, and settled down on the raw concrete floor, leaning his back against the rumbling washing machine. “Well, if we’re gonna talk, we might as well do it old school. Sit down. Eat,” he ordered you.

Taking a seat next to him, you grabbed a container of room-temperature rocky road and opened it. “Whoa, that is soup, yep!” you exclaimed with a laugh.

“Eh, it’s better when it’s melted anyway,” Russell remarked.

“So true…”

“Hand me the Doritos.”

“Yup.”

Quietly, you and Russell then created your dish like the two of you were parodies of Gordon Ramsey on the comedy channel, and only after savoring that first bite of rocky road cream soup with Nacho Cheese Dorito sprinkles (the croutons to your meal if you will), did you stray back to topic.

“So?”

“Right, uhm…” Russell scratched the back of his neck.

You snorted in amusement. “You always do this, you know.” He raised his brow, giving you a sideways look. “You change the subject and distract me in that cutesy way of yours.”

“I don’t think I’m cutesy.”

“You were twenty years ago,” you countered with a fond smile and took a crunchy, spicy spoonful of your soup. “I still see you that way sometimes, you know?”

“God, I hope not,” he groaned, chuckling. “That’s just horrifying.”

“You weren’t so bad. Pretty sweet, actually.” You shrugged, the hint of a smile tugging at your lips. Russell had always been the lost little duckling that had imprinted on you.

He smirked, but his cheeks betrayed him by turning sweetly red. “Yeah, that’s how I lured you in.”

“I don’t think you did much luring, big guy…” you retorted. “You had zero game.”

“What?!”

“Oh, c’mon, Russ… This can’t come as a surprise to you,” you said, giggling.

“Fine,” he caved with a roll of his eyes and chuckled lightly. He scratched the scruff on his throat. “Guess I was a little nervous that night. You were really intimidating.”

You snorted a laugh. “I know.”

“‘M glad you made the first move, though.”

“I made all the moves,” you corrected teasingly. Your gaze then fell pensively to your lap, where your fingers nervously fumbled. Your heart jolted once, like the jump start of a car. “So, uhm, you know… were you making any moves on other people?”

“People?”

“Women,” you clarified and pursed your lips. You didn’t look at him. You knew he would probably find your discomfort amusing.

“Ah.” Russell smacked his lips, trying his hardest not to grin. Then he looked at you – brow raised in an almost scolding manner, but his lips curved upwards and gave his act away, dimples barely hidden by the beard. He held that gaze till you finally met his green eyes. “Have you not been listening to me before? I told you – there’s only you, sweetheart.”

Your brows drew into a frown. “Don’t sweetheart me. It’s been three years, Russ.”

“So?” He twitched his broad shoulders. “You know that’s not a problem.”

“Well, that was before…”

Russell snorted loudly. The crinkles around his eyes doubled as he rubbed the tears out of them. “What, you think sleeping with you has suddenly awoken the dragon?”

“You don’t have to make it sound so ridiculous,” you muttered.

Russell licked his lips, nodding. “Well, news flash – you’re the only treasure for this dragon, baby.”

You stifled a gasp. “I said less ridiculous!”

His grin only broadened, but then he apparently decided to let you off the hook. “Look, in the past three years, has there been opportunity and maybe a little flirting? Sure. But nothing ever came of any of it. Twice, I came scarily close to kissing someone, but I bolted. Wanna know why?”

“Yes? I think…” you replied hesitantly, causing that infuriating smile of his to rise again.

“‘Cause all of it felt like cheating on my wife. So, are we done with this now?”

Defiantly, you shrugged him a nod, but your heart pumped warm, fuzzy happiness into your veins before Russell’s next question made them freeze again.

“Bigger question is, did you kiss a few toads? Or, you know, did some quacking?”

Your lips rose till dimples formed and your cheeks started to hurt. “Please let me be there when you give the kids the sex talk…”

“Okay, don’t even try to change the subject now,” he chided playfully. “I just meant out of the two of us…”

He choked on his words when you narrowed your eyes to a small glare.

“Out of the two of us what, Russell? Please finish that sentence.” Your voice rang with challenge.

“Nothing.” Sheepishly, he scratched the nape of his neck again. “I just meant that, you know, you’re the one who has more, uh… experience in that area.” When your glare morphed into daggers, he swallowed thickly and corrected course, clearing his throat. “Which, you know, I’m real happy about because God knows I’ve profited greatly off of it.”

“Are you slut-shaming me right now?”

“Nope, mm-mm. No, ma’am.” Russell’s lips pressed into a thin line. Then he muttered under his breath, “Not like you’ve sent more soldiers off to war than Bush… Ow!”

Russell rubbed the burning spot on his chest where you had punched him.

“That one hurt this time…” he groaned.

“Good.” The daggers in your eyes blunted back to a frown. You let out a sigh. “You’re an idiot. Please move on.”

“Yes, ma’am.” With curled lips, Russell bobbed his head. “So?”

Musingly, you then rolled your eyes to the ceiling, your head falling back as your tongue darted out between your lips. “Alright, let’s see… In the last three years, I’ve slept with one, two…” you muttered and then mouthed till #4, beginning to count on your fingers.

“Oh, stop it! You think you’re real funny, young lady, huh?” Russell huffed.

When you saw his exasperated expression, you bursted into laughter, the sound echoing off the bare concrete walls.

“C’mon, I had to,” you choked out your excuse between belly-crippling laughs and hysterical snorts. “I’m a single mom of two small children. I’m thankful if I get five minutes in the shower alone.”

Russell laughed a little too, but his heart flooded with relief. The thought of you with someone else had gnawed on him for some time, sharp little bites that pricked his soul. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if it were true – well, aside from dissecting amphibians.

“Almost gave me a heart attack, sweetheart,” Russell chuckled. “Can’t do this to me anymore. That was a young man’s game…”

Instead of uttering an apology, you captured his lips, kissing him till his head spun even more. His breathing quickened, his heart clinging to every last bit of oxygen when your tongue slipped past his lips. His hands tugged on your hips only all too eagerly until he had pulled you into his lap. Your legs straddled his muscular thighs, your clothed cunt rubbing against the growing erection in his jeans. Your underwear soaked at the thought of him splitting you open.

“Make me cum,” you sighed into his ear, nibbling on his lobe. “Want you inside of me again.”

“You’re killing me here,” he groaned as you kissed your way down his throat, teeth grazing over his skin. His fingers twitched with an itch to crawl up your thighs, push any obstruction to the side, and plunge right into your surely wet and waiting channel.

“Good,” you smirked, rocking your hips harder against his bulge.

“Sweetheart, I’d love to, but you’re not exactly quiet.” He chuckled against your lips. “We’d have to blast some death metal on the highest volume for the neighbors not to hear. Doubt they ever heard those sounds coming outta this house.”

With a frustrated huff, you relented breathlessly and slid from his warm lap back to the cold, empty space next to him, cursing the bad timing.

“First time I stitched you up was pretty memorable,” Russell noted after a labored minute, a tiny smirk tugging on his lips.

Your cheeks blushed, your chest still heaving with panting excitement, but you matched his mischievous smile with your usual cocky attitude. “Bet it was. I looked hot in that towel.”

“Yeah, you did. Had a pretty massive boner the whole time. Was surprised you never noticed,” Russell said.

You grinned. “Who says I didn’t?”

“Oh, I know you didn’t, or you would’ve jumped me right there in that bathroom,” Russell teased.

Gasping, you slapped his arm. “I did not jump you!”

“You kinda did.” Russell only laughed harder, with that same boyish grin he always carried when he was happy. “All you wanted was to pull my pants down and hop on for a quick fix.”

“Really? Are you done now?” you playfully scolded him. “And excuse me for wrongly assuming a soldier who’d been stuck in the desert for months with a bunch of other dudes might want sex if the opportunity arises.”

Russell’s boisterous smirk only grew wider. “You wanted me. You had it bad.”

The heat in your face was burning, your tongue poking the insides of your cheeks. “Alright, I don’t think you need an ego boost, Shaw.”

“Still think I’m handsome?” he asked you with a nudge of his elbow.

Pursing your lips, you musingly narrowed your eyes at him, assessing him in jest. “I don’t know. You are a little more rugged these days. The beard’s definitely a midlife crisis.”

Amused, Russell quirked an eyebrow. “Midlife crisis?”

“Yeah, what’s next? Buying a ridiculous car and brewing beer in your basement?”

“Actually, I brew it in the trunk of the ridiculous car.”

Your brows drew together. “Shit. Really?”

Russell laughed loudly, throwing his head back. “Yeah, really.” He then a hauled a bottle of unlabeled beer from the bag, handing it to you. “Taste it. It’s good.”

“If it tastes anything like that schnapps you made in that Guatemalan prison, then no thank you,” you retorted, uncapping the bottle and taking a sniff.

“I promise this wasn’t made in a designated pee bucket, alright?” Russell laughed. “Just drink it. Tell me what you think.”

“Alright, here goes nothing,” you mumbled and took a hesitant, quick sip. Then you took another longer one, squishing the liquid around in your mouth. Your brow raised. “Huh. Not bad,” you remarked, watching Russell’s grin widen. “Why do I taste marshmallows?”

Russell then fully beamed at you. “Knew you’d get it. Took me a while to perfect it. Wasn’t easy, you know? The secret is only adding one of those little Lucky Charms marshmallows. First try, I used the whole pack. God, that was gross.”

“That’s actually pretty genius,” you said with an impressed smile.

“Well, if it is, I kinda owe it to you. You were the OG food genius.”

Smiling, you leaned back against the washing machine with a small sigh, your head dropping to his broad shoulder as you snuggled up against him. He opened his arm and pulled you closer as you nursed your sweet-tasting beer. Russell placed another kiss on your temple, calloused fingers gently caressing your skin.

“When did this job get so hard?”

“Wasn’t it always kinda hard?” Russell answered your rhetorical question, mumbling half his answer into your hair.

“Guess so. Didn’t always feel that way, did it?”

“No, we had some pretty good times,” Russell said with a warm smile and pecked your crown once more.

“You think we’re bad people?”

Russell’s absentminded gaze dropped to you then, now fully focused. “What’s bringing this on, hm?”

You only shrugged in his embrace.

“Alright, I’ll play,” Russell said and then hummed. “Well, we’re not the best people…”

“I was hoping for a little more reassurance,” you said with a playful huff.

Russell chuckled softly. “Look, we always did what we thought was right. And we’ve seen real bad… evil. I don’t think we fall into that category, sweetheart.”

You nodded against his chest. “I guess so…”

Part 4: This Is Not an Exit – JANUARY 31

One of the things I loved writing most about this series were the deep conversations between all characters, but especially this one in the basement. Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did before we break some, uhm, news to Colter next week 😉

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[helvegen-s]

crossing lines | prologue

index

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC

Summary: In the dizzying world of Formula 1, where speed and competition dominate every second, Carlos Sainz Jr., a young Spanish driver with undeniable talent, struggles to find his place amidst the pressure and expectations. Livia Visconti, heiress to an Italian fashion empire, moves with the same determination in a universe of elegance and power. Two opposing worlds, two strong personalities, an inevitable clash that will ignite a spark between them. But in a world where image and success are everything, can they risk it all for a love that defies the rules of the game?

Warnings: explicit language, agressive behaviour, themes of manipulation...

Livia Visconti was no stranger to a party. Not at all; throughout her life, many had told her she was born for it. To blend into the crowd, to seduce, to get others to do what she wanted. To be a femme fatale.

And in that Monaco nightclub, she felt right at home, in her element.

The air throbbed with electronic music and the scent of expensive perfume. Livia Visconti, draped in a black dress that clung to her skin like liquid, glided through the crowd at the exclusive Monegasque club like a panther in the night. Her target: Carlos Sainz, the Spanish Ferrari driver, whose attention—and connections—she needed to secure the future of Casa Visconti.

She found him in the VIP area, surrounded by friends and admirers. With a calculated smile and a glass of champagne in hand, she made her way through the crowd until she reached him.

Taking a brief moment, she donned her infallible mask: the businesswoman, the heiress of one of the most exclusive luxury brands on the continent. Then she prepared to do what she had come to do.

“Carlos Sainz, right?” she asked in a seductive voice, placing a hand on his arm.

He looked at her with disinterest, his green eyes reflecting boredom. He brushed her hand off with a subtle but firm gesture.

“Yes, and you are...?”

“Livia Visconti,” she replied, extending a hand he barely touched. “A pleasure.”

“Uh-huh,” he murmured, without taking his eyes off his phone. He knew exactly who she was.

Livia wasn’t intimidated. She sat down beside him, crossing her legs with deliberate provocation.

“You’re even more handsome in person,” she said with a feline smile, her eyes roaming over him from head to toe.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, intrigued in spite of himself by her boldness.

“And you’re even more arrogant than I’d heard,” he replied, finally putting his phone away.

“I just get straight to the point,” she said, leaning in a little closer. “I like you, Carlos. And I think we could have a lot of fun together.”

He studied her with distrust. There was something in her gaze that unsettled him—a mix of ambition and calculation that made him uneasy.

“I’m not interested,” he said coldly.

Livia let out a laugh that sounded slightly forced.

“Don’t be shy, Carlos. I know you like me. Everyone does.”

“Don’t get it twisted,” he said, leaning back on the sofa and creating more distance between them. “I’m not that easy to manipulate. Especially not by someone like you.”

“Manipulate?” she repeated with a feigned pout. “That’s such an ugly word. I just want to get to know you better. To explore that... fire you carry inside.”

“I’m not interested,” he said again, his tone full of disdain. “And I’m especially not interested in exploring anything with you. You’re the kind of woman who’s only looking to climb the social ladder. I bet you don’t even know who won the last Grand Prix.”

Livia straightened up, offended. Her smile disappeared completely.

“The season was won by Max Verstappen—his third Drivers’ Championship and Red Bull’s sixth Constructors’ title. The last race of the season, at Yas Marina Circuit in Abu Dhabi, had Verstappen on the podium, followed by your teammate Charles Leclerc and George Russell in third.” With every word she spoke, Livia watched Carlos’s expression shift. “Idiot. You think you’re above everyone else.”

“And you think everyone else will always dance to your tune,” he shot back, meeting her icy gaze with his own. “You only care about men with money and fame. Gold-digger.”

“Gold-digger?” she let out an ironic laugh. No, she was beginning to lose control of the situation. “At least I know how money is made, unlike you, who just has to drive in circles,” she retorted, venom dripping from her voice.

“And at least I don’t have to sleep with anyone to get what I want,” he replied with a cruel smile.

Livia slapped him. The sound echoed through the silent VIP area, drawing everyone’s attention. Carlos stood up, furious, but she stopped him with a gesture.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” Livia said, standing up abruptly. She had lost the opportunity completely. “A pleasure, Carlos.”

Taglist:

@smoooothoperator

index

[yerimacoustic]

𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚 🤍 𝙟𝙤𝙨𝙝𝙪𝙖 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

summary: after attempting to steal from the wrong man, you and joshua are forced to mend your own mistake and find out more about each other on the way.

content warnings: royalty au, fantasy au, joshua x female reader, inspired by tangled, obviously, lost prince!joshua and thief!reader, lots and lots of angst, swearing, kissing eventually, more tags to come!

a/n: this is a TEASER for an upcoming joshua fic that i pinky promise i will actually finish and upload. this is also dedicated to my favorite moot @02shuuu who gave me the idea and is so encouraging thank youuuu🫶🏻

“look.. you’ve got great aim, i’ll give you that. but was throwing that apple really necessary?” you grimaced while your fingers graced over the large bruise forming on your temple.

“you’re lucky i didn’t throw anything else. or call the royal guards, for that matter,” joshua countered, ignoring the guilt that crept through him upon seeing the darkened spot adorning your skin.

you scoffed, unamused, “i’m sure they’ve got bigger issues to worry about than some petty theft. like that missing prince.”

“..what?” joshua raised an eyebrow.

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. apparently the age old tale of the prince’s disappearance wasn’t common knowledge.. “you mean you don’t-“ you paused, snickering. “have you been living under a rock?”

joshua bowed his head at your words, staring at the dark blue vial in his hand. the stopper was nowhere to be found, the bottle completely empty. a trail of darkened, almost burnt grass beneath his feet signaled where the liquid had spilled in your scuffle.

“well..” you sighed loudly and slapped your knees while rising to your feet. “this has been lovely. one of my most.. notable first meetings. but i really must be going.”

“not so fast,” joshua protested in a gentle tone, keeping an iron grip on your dark cloak. you were rendered motionless. “you’re going to help me fix this.”

“um..” you let your voice trail off, eyes briefly flicking to the dark sky above you as if to feign contemplation. “no can do. i’ve gotta find another way to settle some debts i have, i’ll spare you the details.”

you took another step, only to be halted once again by joshua’s firm grip on your cape. “lemme ask you something: do you have any idea who you just tried to steal from??”

“no, and i don’t really care,” you stated pointedly.

joshua furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback. “regardless.. the potion’s ruined now because of you. someone worked really really hard, traveling night and day across kingdoms, spending night after night with their shoulders hunched over the cauldron to perfectly craft this particular potion. and now it’s wasted. and because of you! do you really want that on your conscience?”

you furrowed your eyebrows, once again unamused by his words. “since you asked.. i’m actually more worried about what’s going to happen to me now that my uh.. client won’t get what they want. so.. no, can’t say i am.”

joshua sighed, clearly exasperated. he rose to his feet, the worn fabric of your cloak still bunched around his fingers and effectively keeping you from moving. “look, we’ve got.. three days to get all of the ingredients back and remake the potion. if you help me, i’ll make sure there’s enough for both of us.”

“and why would i do that? how am i supposed to trust you?” you countered, folding your arms.

“because i know you’re desperate,” joshua told you with a smirk. “and frankly i am too. and i’m not really taking no for an answer.”

you were taken aback by his words and more accurately, the way he still managed to speak with such a charming tone. “and how are you supposed to trust me?”

“well.. i guess all i can do is just hope you won’t let me down.” he paused, letting go of your cloak in favor of grabbing onto your horse’s reins. a shit eating grin tugged at his lips as he looked over his shoulder to see you.. absolutely flabbergasted. he pats the saddle, nodding his head. “ladies first.”