#and knowing that people want to be with them or be friends with them
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gunstellations · 3 days ago
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home cook
#PLEASE NOTICE THE PUN IN THE CAPTION#I WORKED HARD FOR IT#ive been watchinghouse for 2 months now. im on season 5. ive been#talking about how theyre so gay for 5 seasons but this. this actually caught my heart. what the fuck...#the whole scene....wilsons fluffy ass hair...what took over their minds to write and film this fucking insane domestic scene#it was so cute...i needed to draw wilson hair but i got lazy in thr middle so you only get dialogue#i never actually thought id draw hilson fanart but here we are#although. is this even ship art. is it really ship art if im just. drawing what directly happened in the show. the only way. the ONLY WAY.#as even SAID BY HOUSE HIMSELF. for them to be more close is to start unzipping#on screen#in this case#like...do they know..do they know gay people are real...#anyway. ive been on this brainrot for a while on the down low but this has been ENOUGH. this is too mych for me to not speak up about#watch the funny medical show they said#he does medical malpractice and is a nasty funny little man whos gay with his best friend#its true!!! but at what!! fucking cost!!! im depressed!!!!!! sad gay asshole has me sad!! hoping for his healing!!! what the fuck!!#where was i....yeah. he wants that cookie so bad#habe you seen the way he smiles when he makes wilson smile like tf tone it down sheesh#house md#cant believe they got me to make fanart. goddammit.#hilson#sighs#gregory house#james wilson#house md spoilers#my art#GGRRRRRR HES SO PATHETIC AND EHECUCHCHSCHCDHCDC
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miange1 · 3 days ago
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hear me out, HEAR ME OUT.
loser bf x popular reader?
and i mean like incel type shi and pervert loser. like bf is into hentai, has weird obsessions(like readers sweaty clothes or something), overly jealous and will doxx people over reader
that type shi🤤
~FREAK LIKE ME♪~
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customers order: incel loser bf x popular(male) reader
side dishes: hentai/porn additions, reader is popular because he's nice and not a jerk, recreations, toys, overstimulation, stalking before and while being together, sweat kinks, incel bf is attractive just weird, cumming fixations
owners note: i never proofread
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incel bf, who was honestly the guy no one ever wanted to even surround themselves with, let alone date. but you? your sweet heart saw past the weirdness that would never go away. you allowed yourself to be friends with him, you let him sit at your table, and even let him borrow some of your clothes just to do it. all of those were big mistakes
incel bf, who had a literal shrine of you. he'd taken photos of you when you didn't know and he'd jerk off to them, sometimes keeping the cum there and hanging them up near the shrine. one of your shirts were his pillow case, at one point he needed to wash that shit thoroughly. his porn addition was ridiculous, but it was alright. you'd help him get through it like the good boyfriend you were.
incel bf, who was honestly a sweet guy past all of the bullshit. he would get you gifts(knew you liked it before dating), would take you to your favorite places(watched you go there without your knowledge), and be clingy. the man loved you, you were his first real life boyfriend and he would never let you go. he would keep you here for as long as he could.
incel bf, who has never had sex before. but his dick was bigger than his ego, surprisingly. the first time he had gotten courage to fuck you was when you had felt all over him during a make out, you were able to give him a little push in the direction you wanted him. "we don't have to—" but he'd cut you off, not with words but with actions
incel bf, who was the biggest pervert known to man. he had an array of toys he bought specifically for you. dildos, nipple clamps, vibrators, gags, whatever he had it was all for you. and he would put them to use, wouldn't let them collect dust.
incel bf, who would watch you squirm and whine. watch you buck your hips and bury your face into the pillows while your toes curled into the sheets. he laughed creepily, saliva dripping from his mouth and onto your abdomen, his eyes scanning along your body. the vibrator was attached to your cock that continuously leaked and twitched, your own cum already painting your skin. the nipple clamps painfully tweaking at your sensitive flesh, and a dildo shoved up your ass and your tummy showing a visible bulge. "f-fuck, you look exactly like my favorite hentai.."
incel bf, would constantly overstimulate you and have you grabbing for him. the smell of cum and sweat lingered and he sniffed it like an addiction. he loved every scent that came from you, got high off of it. "you wanna cum again? g-go on, please do it..i wanna watch." it was so embarrassing, but you loved it because of how pleased he was. he would jerk himself off above your body, cum mixing with yours on your stomach but he wouldn't stop. you were a drug.
incel bf, who was in fact a creep— a word far too light. but he would never leave you all tired and dirty. no, no, you were still his boyfriend. besides, aftercare is important.
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ao3commentoftheday · 2 days ago
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I know "I'm bad at summaries" and "I'm bad at tags" are not sentiments to voice in the summary/tags of a fic. But, genuinely, I don't consider myself good at either. (This is background.)
The actual question is, how do I learn these? Especially tagging. My fandom background is sparse, at least far as participation in broader fandom culture is concerned, so I wasn't part of fandom when current tagging practices on AO3 evolved. It's difficult for me to grasp, and I suspect I end up treating the tags more like CWs than search terms as a result.
Great for people who want to filter out particular unpleasant elements. Not so great for people who can't find my fic because I didn't think to tag something someone else might see as obvious. I have severe social anxiety so joining e.g. a Discord to ask for help isn't really a viable option. Tagging fic isn't worth panic attacks.
Tagging fic isn't worth panic attacks.
100% agreed!
When it comes to being "good at tagging" that definition is going to vary from person to person. It will also vary depending on what your goal is.
I'm a fairly minimal tagger myself. I'll tag the fandom and the major characters, the general vibe (e.g. humour, smut etc) and then anything else I might think of. I don't personally like to tag smut fics with all of the various sex acts in them, but I've done it before because I thought I was supposed to. Since it doesn't really feel like "me" though I've since stopped doing that. If folks want to avoid my fic as a result, that's totally fair. If folks who would like it can't find it 🤷‍♀️ maybe it'll be a rec someday.
All that is to say that tagging is not a thing it's possible to be perfect at, so just aim for accomplishing whatever your goal is.
I get what you're saying, though. I wrote a fake dating fic once without tagging it as fake dating because I didn't realize that fake dating was a trope. It was only when a couple of friends started referring to it that I realized and added that tag to my fic.
One way to learn about those kinds of tropes is to pay attention when you see them tagged on other people's fics. You can browse through tags that are similar to ones you already use and see what else people add to their fics and whether those would work for yours or not.
You can also visit Fanlore! It's another project by the OTW (the people who run AO3) and it's a great resource for learning about fandom. You can look up a common tag like Alternate Universe, and it will give you examples of different types of AU and link out to pages that will link out to pages that will... you get the idea. It's wikipedia but for fandom stuff.
As for summaries, there are a lot of ways to go about that too. I'll let folks add ideas in the notes. The way I do it is that I include the name(s) of the major character(s), and outline the inciting incident for the fic. Since I post as I write, I might or might not tease something that happens later on (because I might or might not know yet).
The way to get good at doing it is just to keep practicing. When I was in university, I took a Russian Lit course where we had to write a summary of each novel in 200 words or less, 10 sentences or less - and semicolons were cheating. I did that 13 times in 8 months, and by the end of that I was really good at writing summaries. Add in the fact that I started posting fic back on FF.net where there was a character limit on summaries and you can see why I keep them pretty short.
That's another thing that you can analyze in others' fics, though. Find a summary that you think is well-written for whatever type of summary you like and then look at that author's other fics to see if you can spot a pattern to how they do it. Once you find the pattern, it's a lot easier to replicate it and then it's just a matter of repeating it until it feels natural.
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lomlsatoru · 2 days ago
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BEAUTIFUL SOUL — JINU 𖤐.ᐟ
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˚⟡˖ ࣪ SOUL INTERTWINED SERIES | part 2 of familiar!
summary: jinu doesn’t know what to do when you look at him like he’s worthy of something.
content: little bit more angsty, ~980 words
a/n: thank you so much for all the love in the first part 🫶 i do plan on making this a series so stay tuned!
masterlist | navi
★☆★
You didn’t know how the meet and greet went from 3 people to 8, with two tables connected. But you had to give credit where credit is due because this is amazing publicity.
Huntrix AND Saja Boys Fan Event.
What a headline.
It surprised you that it is going pretty smoothly— ignoring the fact that some of them were fighting and shoving each other, they were quite mature about the whole ordeal.
You assumed that Rumi planned this with Jinu the night you bumped into them. The bunch was doing an amazing job, signing merch, posters, answering questions, being… friends.
If you would even call it that.
At the table, Jinu was craning his neck up, his head moving from side to side to look for one particular person.
“She’s over there.” Rumi teasingly said to Jinu, nudging her head to gesture to where you and Bobby were standing discussing.
His movements weren’t really unnoticeable.
Jinu coughed, turning his head downwards. He didn’t think he was that obvious. “What do you mean?”
Rumi smirked. “You’re too obvious, dude.”
“No, I’m not!” he exclaimed, sending the fan a weird smile when he noticed his little outburst.
“Are we whispering?” the fan asked.
Jinu and Rumi quickly signed the poster, handing it to the fan with an awkward smile.
“Your secret’s safe with me.” she pointed to the t-shirt, a doodle of the two with wings on Jinu and Rumi riding on him, the text reads Rujinu. Making the pair laugh dryly, not really sure how to react. “Oh, so cute.” the fan said, walking away.
Jinu kept his eyes on the fan, making sure that you didn’t see her— the t-shirt specifically. He didn’t want you to get any false ideas.
The man sighs when he notices the fan leaving the building without bumping into you. Rumi noticed his behaviour and chuckled. “Idiot.”
“Who are you calling idiot?” Jinu scoffs as they continue to bicker.
From afar, you were staring at the pair with a heavy chest. You didn’t know why. They matched each other so well and you don’t know why that forms a pit in your stomach.
Jinu could feel a pair of eyes on him, and when he turned his head, his eyes met yours.
His heart stutters. Yours did too.
You swallowed thickly before giving him a small wave and timid smile. He practically beams with happiness.
You noticed him!
He raises his hand, fingers moving in a greeting motion. A small voice took his attention away, the kid giving him a small paper with a drawing. His eyes softens as he takes the gift in.
Suddenly Rumi stood up, “Isn’t he great? Woo! Jinu, everybody! Yeah, Jinu!” everyone clapped, as bouquets were thrown to the table for the Saja Boys.
Jinu abruptly stood up, “Unfortunately, the Saja Boys have to run. Thank you everyone.” the other members followed as well, walking to the back exit.
You furrow your eyebrows at the sudden change, feet moving you could even think as you tried to catch up to Jinu before he left.
“Jinu!” you yell.
Goosebumps appeared all over his body as he turned around, “Hi.” he stopped in front of you, wide eyes staring as his whole body goes warm.
You chuckled, “Hi, Jinu.”
He will never get used to how you say his name.
“You did well, out there.” your head nudges to the meet and greet area, “They love you.” you smirk, exaggerating the words.
He mirrors your smile, “Yeah, well, I’m good at what I do.”
You scoff, “Hold your horses, cowboy.” before your voice softens, “The kid loves you.” you gestured to the paper
Jinu hides the card behind his back, cheeks pink and warm from embarrassment and the fact that you are in his vicinity. “She just likes my voice and dances.” his eyes casted downwards, at the paper.
YOU HAVE A BEAUTIFUL SOUL.
You furrow your eyebrows, “I don’t know you,” you shrug. Jinu’s heart fell, “but I know you’re a good person. I can see it. Even just now, Rumi doesn’t just let anyone around her.”
Jinu catches your eyes and melts immediately, staring at you is like staring at art in a museum. Valuable, one of a kind but out of touch.
He doesn’t deserve any of this.
He coughs out his nerves, “You don’t know me.” He didn't mean for it to come off as rude, but the crushing reality will never soothe away. Not while you’re standing right in front of him. Eyes shining, looking at him like he’s someone worth your attention, voice sweet, and kind smiles.
You don’t even remember him.
You don’t take offence at his sharp tone, “Yeah, but,” you shrugged, “weirdly it feels like I do and I believe that you are good.”
You might as well rip his soul out.
Feels like I do.
What is he supposed to do with that?
When you looked up to meet his eyes again, you couldn’t explain the gnawing feeling in your stomach. at the sight of his face. He looks so broken. So hurt.
You never want to see him like that.
“Thanks.” he mumbled out, crumpling the poor paper from how hard he is balling his fists. His heart thumped in his chest.
You both stared at each other for a moment, the air tense but familiar.
Familiar?
“Well, I better get going.” Jinu mumbled, pointing his thumb to his back, “The others are probably waiting.”
You took a step back, “Yeah! Yeah, of course. Sorry, didn’t mean to hog you.” you chuckled.
He shrugs, “I don’t mind. I like talking to you.” softly smiling before walking away, leaving you dumbfounded and blushing.
As he turns, Jinu’s smile drops, his shoulders sagging as the weight of your presence trickles away. Everytime he’s around you, his stomach twists into weird ways, nerves, excitement, grief. 
And he isn’t really sure what to do with it.
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reblog for a kiss 🥰🥰🥰 lmk what yall think i really hope u enjoy 🫶
taglist: @raynerain09 @afterlife11 @ @tumblblob @animewolflover278 @svndaystars @lighthouseraven34 @koobiiiistar @violetraccoon-4 @taz-97 @airwolf92 @atuyyyy @eliengoddes @miffysoo @stevengrantsqueen @kateyam @1uvyawnzzn @emaluxe @tani725 @sylustabbykitty @syyyy4ever @moonymoo1 @jetblackw1ngs @kindnessiskey13 @lulu1771 @montybooks @flufftato @amortica @eepyfaerie @bypanana @disappointment-of-the-fam @towfuu1 @shrekislife101 @smileysunshinesworld @kunisnaomi @faerie-soirxx @feelya @smileysunshinesworld @honey-and-sweetdreams
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eden-axe · 3 days ago
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Wrong Sparks p2
Summary: During an argument with Eddie, Volt gets upset with you and kicks you out of the bar, unknowingly hurting you. And now he must make things right.
Part 1
Eddie/Volt x gn!reader
Warnings: Yelling, minor violence, mentions of dying, hurt/comfort
Words: 3865
When Dorian returned he was relieved to see you smiling as you beat Curt & Rod in a game of cards. Betty helped you play by holding your last card, placing it down on the bed. She used her other hand to cover her mouth as her shoulders shook.
“Hey don’t get it twisted we let you win. So don't even think about bragging" Rod threw his cards on the bed, and pointed a finger at you. Curt nodded, and turned his head to pout.
You laughed, but stopped and allowed a smile to beam across your face when you noticed Dorian had entered the room. He quickly puts his hands behind his back as you pat the bed, becking him to come over. When he took his spot in front of the bathroom you asked about Eddie, but he noticed you hesitate before asking about Volt.
”Eddie is doing alright. Volt...” He thought about telling you the truth, but looking at your eager face. He sighed, “He's… calmed down a bit, but I ain’t allowing him back till you get better.”
You wanted to argue, but everyone else, even Betty, agreed to Dorian’s suggestion. You surrendered and fell back into Betty’s chest and agreed with a wave. Curt started a new round of cards while Rod tried to get Dorian to play a round, even roped you into recruitment. But Dorian remained standing tall at his position.
The next three days passed by pretty quickly for you, with everyone stopping by to wish you well on your recovery. Mitchell always stopped by with meals made by Stepan; or a Freddy Yeti ice cream. The three of them made sure the food was good, persevered, and beautiful. “Only the best for our dear human, and my personal dining companion.” Mitchell would always say whenever you thanked him.
Amir would switch your bandages whenever Farya took a break. You didn’t know why but him seeing your arm scared you, but he always made sure to compliment you, even the beauty of the scar. “They paint your arm like lightning. It is a reflection of you: bold, strikingly beautiful, and a light in the dark. Azizam, they may have come from pain, but do not let it harm your smile, you are a work of art. If you wish not to believe me, ask Artt.”
After learning that Curt and Rod played cards with you Parker stormed into your room, not even Dorian could keep him out, and boy did he try. Parker brought so many games and tried to set each and every one of them up in different spaces in your room. If it weren’t for Chance who followed in behind him and helped narrow down the game list you might have hurt your other hand from all the dice rolling that awaited. Though when it did come time to play duopoly, Chance rolled for you both. When you beat Curt and Rod at another game they claimed Chance was cheating on your behalf, and Parker argued that he would know if there was cheating. But he never did say if there was any foul play.
Even Reggie managed to stop by, and despite wanting to tell you to dump your ‘boy toys,’ he played nice. You and him went on his dating profile, one he used specifically to find new and fun ways to reject people. While you didn’t want to break up with Eddie or Volt, finding people who looked, acted, or hell even worked at a bar or club like they did, and rejecting them the worst way you could was slightly therapeutic. Though it did make you miss your lovers even more, scared they thought about leaving you, but Reggie reluctantly reassured you, “You’re a catch sweet thing, you don’t get rejected. You do the rejecting.” And that did make you feel better.
Though only one person made you feel like nothing was wrong with your situation. It was the only person allowed free entry without being questioned by Dorian, Beverly. She was your best friend, one of the first people, things? You awakened, and besides Dorian, was your first friend. She always brought a new drink for you to both try, even spiced things up by having Phoneicia show her some cocktails that were trending. Most however landed you with Jean Loo, who awkwardly patted your back from the terrible mix of alcohol. Although it always led you guys to have a fun laugh by the end of the night.
After the third day she brought in a new drink, you don’t remember what it was, but it tasted awful, but familiar. It was the first drink you ever tried to mix yourself after hours at the Breaker Box. Eddie and Volt wanted you to try it. Volt had the bright idea of letting you fly solo on the mix, which resulted in the awful tasting drink you manage to keep down now. Beverly ran to spit the drink out in the bathroom sink, while you just sat and nursed the rest of the bad tasting alcohol. The same way Eddie would when you first met him.
Beverly came back and saw the sad look you gave the glass. She carefully took the glass from you and placed it on the nightstand and gave you a hug. You held her closely as you let the tears finally fall. You missed Eddie and Volt, a lot.
Despite the quick passing of time for you, Eddie and Volt felt it had been the longest three days of their life. Dorian refused to let them in your room. He kept saying ‘you're resting’, despite them hearing your laughing, or watched him let in another object right before they arrived. So on the fourth day, Eddie decided to reopen the Breaker Box for a night. Eddie was starting to get restless with nothing to do and Dorian not even giving them an update on your condition was driving Volt insane
Yet despite this, the bar was nearly empty. No one even came to perform; not even Johnny. So while closing they were talking about why why no one showed.
"It's because you hurt them pretty bud." Cam heckled. Volt doesn’t know why it aggravated him, but he remains calm, not wanting to repeat his angry state again. He acknowledged he was rough, but he didn't break be anything, he hoped. At that thought he grew nervous and made his presence suffocating, just wanting an answer.
"You seriously think that's why everyone is avoiding this place? Because of a small sprained wrist. It’s bigger than that dipshits. No one wants to be around you.”
"You're here" Eddie huffed out, he didn’t like any attitude given to his partners, that was his job.
Cam sat back and lifted his empty glass "I like the booze & boo's”
Eddie goes to say something, but Volt stops him, “Please continue. What happened?”
"Hold on" Cam rolled his eyes and grabbed a napkin from, no where anyone wanted to know. He goes on to write something. He got up and put money on the table "Don't open tomorrow. I’m doing this for the human, and I better get free drinks next time I’m here. This is a one time favor!"
Cam got up to leave, but neither of the two bartenders stopped him.
Dorian opened the door & was surprised to see Cam. Cam held out the napkin limply, “It’s for the human.” He paused for a second, pulling the napkin back, “Don’t toss it, I’ll know. Then I’ll… break down the door? …nah. Create a fire escape hazard out of trash? Yeah, that.” Cam then immediately left as Dorian took the napkin. Dorian was confused, and slightly disgusted at the damp napkin that rested in his hand.
Dorian closed the door as you asked who it was. He just silently handed you the napkin. You looked at him, he just mirrored your expression. You read the letter and, to which you immediately knew it was not written by your boys, but by your long time frenemy. It read:
’Come by the bar tmmr, bring Dorian it you want -E&V’
It warmed your heart seeing Cam try to help. You laughed and put it on your night stand
“I want to see Eddie and Volt tomorrow,” Dorian was about to object, “Farya said I was doing better, bandage is off now.” You wiggled your hand, the extent of the injury a sight you were willing to tolerate.
He hesitates, still not in a good mood with the two, “I’m going with you.”
“Wouldn’t want you anywhere else.” You grabbed his hand, and squeezed it. You were grateful he trusted you more than he hated them. He knew he couldn’t keep you from them forever, but if it was for your happiness, he would back off a bit.
Volt paced the floor, while Eddie had been drying the same glass for 5 minutes.
Outside the door, you stared at the door, nervous to even touch it again. You stared at Dorian, who only nodded, knowing what you wanted to ask. He offered his arm, and you wrapped your injured hand around his forearm. It was hidden in a loose sweater, provided by the sweet Mateo. The second your hand wrapped around Dorian’s bicep, your trembling hand stopped. You let out a breath of relief as Dorian opened the door.
When you entered the bar Volt stopped in his tracks and moved closer, but froze when Dorian stepped in front of you.
It was so silent, Volt swore you could hear his heart tear a bit, "Live wire I did not mean to be so rough with you that day. I got too protective over Eddie when I— when I saw him blow fuse, but you're also my heart. I did not protect you rather caused harm, both physical & emotional. I'm truly sorry for that.”
You nodded and looked around for Eddie, who walk over from the bar, ”I'm sorry for not stopping Volt, or going after you-”
"That was my fault, & I should apologize to you Eddie. They are your lover too, should. I had no right keeping you both apart.”
”Ahem.” Dorian spoke and they both straightened up to looked back at you.
Eddie continues "And I'm really sorry I was rude when you only wanted to help. But please understand, I just wanted you to recover first. I was scared that you’d only end up more hurt, and if you did while under my care… Still it wasn’t right of me to make a choice for you.
Volt put his hand on Eddie's shoulder, "And I'm sorry, again, for unknowingly causing more harm to your wrist. If I may ask, is it feeling better now?"
Volt held out his hand, his eyes bleeding with concern, but his smile overlooked it with hope. You slowly remove your hand from Dorian and bring your hand to touch Volt's. But when you both make contact he sees the slightly faded lightning scars creep up your hand. He grabs your hand firmly in his. It doesn’t hurt, but the quick action surprised you, so you let out a yelp. Volt quickly released you, his smile full of hope, pried open in horror. Dorian pulled you behind him.
“Live-Y/N. What happened? Your hand…" Volt’s hand matches the tremor in yours.
"You did.” Dorian growled "When you kicked em’ to the curb, you shocked them so badly they were bloody out of it for two days. Your ‘little’ shock even fried the datviators. fried the technology into their octaval nerves, and now Skylar's been missing ever since! Glasses don't even do nothin’ no more.”
Volt looks shocked at the news, but Eddie asks first, "Live wire is this true?"
You don't respond, just lift up the loose sleeve and allowed the scars riding up your arms to answer his question.
“You’re pretty lucky their hand has been recovering quite well over the last few days. They weren't able to feel it after the second time you shocked em’” Dorian gently grabs your sleeve and pulls it down. "Second?" Eddie was seething looking at Volt, who looked panicked.
"It wasn't intentional, I just felt their presence near a current and got annoyed. I swear I didn't know I shocked them. You! I You! I didn't know I shocked you I swear. I would never, I don’t think, I-” Volt’s hair was sparking and you could see tears formed in his eyes. He couldn’t remember much of that day, it was all a blur, even before the performance, he couldn’t even remember if he talked to you, or if you slipped in right as the show started.
Eddie balled his hands into fists, he now understood why Dorian punched him; and if he was honest with himself, he wanted to do the same. Before he could make any decision you were in front of him, holding his fist. You shook your head and opened his fist and used it to touch Volt. Eddie knew that in this state touching Volt would be dangerous for anything, or anyone, who was vulnerable to be electrocuted.
“Volt.” Eddie didn’t realize how much he missed your voice until he heard it again. It was soft, gentle. Eddie knows that tone from nights where he doesn’t feel enough, and you lightly scolded him. It was the same voice you used when they had to make the choice to restart the breaker and he tried to back out at the last second. But hearing this tone being used on Volt, the man who was the main source of warmth in your relationship. It was scary.
You were also scared of the direction you were all going, and somewhere buried deep down, even angry. You were the one who was hurt, so why were you comforting the one who hurt you?
You didn’t want to think about it now, so you pressed on. You moved Eddie’s hand to Volt’s face, and that is when Eddie intervened, moving your hand away. Volt’s face was dangerous in any situation, but now only because it was too close to his sparking hair.
You breathe, “Volt, I’m here. Eddie is here. I’m not leaving you. I want to talk.”
Volt’s eyes glow, as his cheeks turned into a blue hue. He yelled as Dorian pulled you back, “Why aren’t you angry at me!”
You pull away from Dorian and march over to Volt. You pause for a moment, and hit him in the gut. He doubles over and looks at you, sparks gone, wide eyed. Eddie and Dorian take a step back, never had you talked about being violent, or even wishing harm on anyone, or thing. Where did you even learn that kind of punch?
You shook out your fist and yelled back, “I am angry! For so many reasons, but right now only because you think I’m going to leave!” Volt is stunned, and as Eddie helps him back up you grab his hand, “I’m angry you didn’t listen. I’m angry you shocked me. I’m angry Cam had to send a letter to you. I’m angry at… I’m angry at how much I missed you both.”
You didn’t even know you were crying until Eddie wiped your tears away, “Live wire…”
You hold his wrist with your bad hand, “But I’m grateful you let me have time. Even if Dorian stopped you every time.” You glanced back at Dorian, who blushed and rubbed his neck.
“You knew ‘bout that?”
“Of course I did, Bev tells me everything.” You laughed as Dorian looked annoyed at how much he trusted that cocktail menace. You looked back towards your boys, and grabbed Volt’s hand with your unblemished hand. “I feel so many different things when I’m with you both, even if they aren’t pleasant. And I will admit it might take time to give into your affection again, but I know you’ll work hard. You’ve never pushed beyond my limit before, I’m sure you’re still good at that.”
Volt nodded and gripped your hand. Eddie brought your hand to his lips, and kissed each line that bloomed from your wrist. To their surprise you started laughing and trying to get away from Eddie.
“Eddie no! Don’t you dare continue! That tickles!” Eddie quickly let go of confusion and concern. Dorian silently left the bar, he knew that from here everything would be just fine.
“I thought you said you couldn’t feel your hand live wire?” Volt asked, rubbing the back of your hand gently.
You tried to calm your laughing fit down, but it took a bit before everything was released, “I did, and that is true. Ha…. But luckily Farya is a trained doctor and did wonders on it. Aka she treated it well.”
“Well then I’ll have to thank her later then.” Eddie sighed, but was silent compared to the loud sigh Volt let out.
Volt stared at you for a while, not knowing what to say or do. He didn’t know how he could ever make it up to you, but he knew if he wanted to, it had to start here.
“Let’s get something good to drink. Bev’s been torturing me with shitty internet cocktails,” You dragged Volt to the bar and sat down and pushed him to the bar. You looked at Eddie and patted the seat next to you. Your smile was mischievous, “He’s on bar duty for us until I say so. And you are gonna help me drink cause, ya know.” You lift your shaking hand.
Eddie rolled his eyes as Volt started on the drink. You were going to milk this, and neither was going to complain, they loved treating you like this anyways, so it was already a set towards getting back to something normal.
Over the next few days people started returning back to the Breaker Box, even Johnny returned, and no one knew how to feel about it. His bad singing made this place feel homey some days. You hadn’t shown up yet, something that wasn’t normal for the two, even before the fight, you’d either show up before opening, or before the show. Volt grew nervous that you didn’t want to see him. He thought he had been on his best behavior. Volt was jolted from his worries as Eddie placed a black looking liquid onto the bar.
“Give it to Cam, on the house. Again.” Eddie rolled his eyes, not a fan of free drinks unless for you, but you told them to give Cam a free drink every now and then. Only until you had the courage to kiss Volt again. That was the worst part. You were absolutely serious about withholding your affections from Volt. Volt respected the boundaries of touch, he had ever since it was only him and Eddie, but not being able to touch you was painful. He gave Cam his drink, who looked at him smugly. Cam knew being on a line between friendly and rude with you had perks, but didn’t know it would bring good perks.
After everyone filed out, there was still no sign of you. This even brought Eddie to get anxious, but for a different reason. He still had that same worry that you were helping someone when you were injured. “They’re fine. They are an adult and know their limits. They. Are. Fine.” Eddie muttered to himself each time he moved to leave the bar and go find you.
When they finished cleaning up and were about to lock up, you burst through the door. “Guys!”
“Live wire! You’re alright!” Volt explained rushing over to you, but stopped when he realized he was about to hug you.
You looked at him bewildered, face scrunched up, “Of course I am? Anyways you won’t believe it!”
“What could have you buzzing this late sparks?” Eddie moved in closer.
You bounce on your toes and rush to the door, pulling someone in, “It’s Skylar!”
Volt’s face looked horrified at her presence, he was so focused on hurting you, it didn’t even register that he almost killed Skylar. He quickly fixed his face into a smile, “Skylar! I’m so glad you’re alright. I must apologize, I did not intend to get you mixed in. I mean I didn’t mean to—”
“Hehe, I get it, don't worry.” Skylar waves him off playfully, “It felt nice though. I wasn’t just in the glasses anymore. I was everywhere.”
“Everywhere?” Eddie sounded suspicious at how that sounded.
“Yeah, while she was ‘gone’ she was able to see everything that was connected by electricity. Even the telephone poles outside, and what was down the block!” You match Skylar’s enthusiasm
“It was so fun! I’ve never been outside before!” Skylar was practically floating while she talked so animatedly. “We spent the entire day talking about what’s out there, who’s out there, and even why it's out there! Can you believe that?”
Eddie and Volt share a confused glance, “I guess not?”
You wave to Skylar as she leaves, turning back to them. Volt watched her leave, “So is she not in the glasses anymore?”
“She is, but we’re kinda linked now?” You linked your pinkies together, “Like she gave me her powers, and I gave her my ability to leave. That’s what we’ve settled on for an explanation. Her suspension of disbelief and all, it was very happy with that.”
“So you weren’t mad at us- me?” Volt asked, and you felt your heart ready to burst. He looked like a kicked puppy, and you really couldn’t resist him much more.
You put your shaky hand on his cheek, then slowly down to his neck. He hummed and closed his eyes, taking whatever you were willing to give him. “No, I do love you, and I really don’t plan on leaving.” You quickly pulled him down by the back of his neck. The kiss wasn’t quick, but Volt wished it lasted longer. He let you take the lead as you bit his lip, he moaned as he felt his knees grow weak. You were gentle, but forceful, nearly pushing him backwards. He went to grab your waist, but paused. You pulled away for a second, and he tried to chase your lips, but you quickly pulled his hands to grip your waist before you dove back in; and before you could take the kiss any further you heard Eddie groan.
“Thank the amps above. I can stop giving that trashy bastard free drinks” You laugh and pull away, leaving your hand resting on Volt’s chest. Volt squeezed you, not wanting to let go, but glaring at Eddie, who just walked up to you and gave you a chaste kiss, and patted Volt on the shoulder as he walked away back to their room.
“Can I stay for a night?” You batted your eyelashes at Volt. Who short-circuited for a moment before smiling an uneven smile.
“Of course darling, anything you’d” You removed his hand from your waist.
“No touching.” Volt groaned, but followed quickly behind you, glad his efforts were not in vain.
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Notes: OMGOMGOMG THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON PART 1!!!!!! I really wanted to write a resolution that wasn't just "I forgive you" bc I don't think that is fair to the reader, you, or myself. I hope this ending was a good one for you all. I think it ended in the best way it could, all while having a happy end! And thank you to everyone who wanted to be tagged! That was truly a surreal moment to have so many people want to see what happens next!
Also this two parter might be part of a longer series of Eddie, Volt, and you having a poly relationship. It was actually started on the idea of Bev being your first friend and introducing you guys! Let me know if you want to see that sometime in the future!
Again I do have requests open, just check my pinned post! and uhhhhh eat your greens?
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mooningningg · 10 hours ago
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notes, ya'll been fighting for who likes my roomie sukuna more. (also taglists are full guys, im soooo sorry)
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★ Roommate!Sukuna when his friends heard you both all night.
The apartment smells like burnt toast, cheap coffee, and last night’s regret.
You shuffle into the kitchen with your hoodie half-on, socks sliding against the floor as you dig around the drawer for a spoon. Your throat is scratchy. Your thighs ache in a way you’re trying not to think about. But mostly, you’re just trying to survive the morning without—
“Oh look,” Gojo says loudly from the kitchen island, raising his coffee cup in a mock toast, “the noisemaker’s awake.”
You blink. Stare. Regret existing.
On his left, Suguru sips from his mug like he’s watching an ancient tragedy unfold.
They’re both still here. Of course they are.
You forgot Sukuna invited them over after last night’s rehearsal — a blur of beers, loud music, and your poor judgment crawling into bed with him again. You thought maybe they left early this morning. Or died in their sleep.
Clearly not.
“Why the hell are you still here?” you mutter, moving to the counter.
Gojo beams. “Your couch is disturbingly comfortable. Plus, I wanted to personally ask you what song was playing last night while you were screaming your lungs out.”
Suguru adds without looking up, “I Shazamed it, but all I could hear was the headboard.”
You groan into your bowl of cereal.
Before you can throw yourself into traffic, he walks in.
Sukuna. Half-dressed. Tattoos on display. Sweatpants hanging criminally low. One hand running through his bedhead as the other opens the fridge.
You feel the shift in the room instantly. Like gravity’s heavier.
He doesn’t even look at you. He just yanks open the fridge door, scoffs at the lack of Gatorade, and slams it shut again. “Where the fuck’s my drink?”
“Good morning to you, too,” you mutter, not looking up.
Gojo snickers behind his cup. “Tense in here. Roommates fighting?”
You roll your eyes. “We’re not fighting.”
“Ah,” Suguru says. “So you’re just roommates who scream each other’s names into the night. Got it.”
You shoot him a glare. “Nothing’s happening.”
“Right, right,” Gojo says, nodding. “I, too, have screamed my roommate’s name while slapping the walls. Very platonic.”
Sukuna finally turns, his jaw sharp with irritation. “You two got a fuckin’ problem?”
Gojo raises his brows innocently. “We’re just making observations.”
“Well how ‘bout you observe the front door and get the fuck out.”
Suguru sips. “That’s not very host-like of you.”
“Not a host,” Sukuna growls, walking past them to your side of the counter. His hand comes up to grab a cup from above your head — unnecessarily close. His chest brushes your shoulder. His voice lowers. “You make this shit yet?”
You tilt your head up. “Do I look like your barista?”
He smirks. “No. You look like someone who’s still sore from last night.”
You flush instantly. “Don’t talk like that with them here.”
“Why? They heard it all already.”
“Jesus christ,” you mutter, pushing him away with a hand to his chest.
But instead of backing off, he grabs your wrist. Casual. Possessive. Like it means nothing.
Gojo watches, eyes glinting. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “for two people who aren’t together, you fight like a couple.”
Suguru hums. “And fuck like one, apparently.”
You finally snap. “We’re not together. He’s— He’s my roommate.”
Sukuna lets go of your wrist. Slowly. Then he steps back and looks at you, jaw ticking.
“Say that again,” he mutters.
You blink. “Say what?”
He points between you. “That I’m just your roommate.”
“I mean…” You falter. “Technically, you are.”
The silence drags. Then Sukuna laughs—sharp and humorless.
“Right,” he mutters, storming toward the table. “Just your roommate. That why I’m the only one you come crawling to when you're needy as fuck?”
You freeze.
Gojo raises his eyebrows. Suguru still doesn’t flinch.
“You wanna play dumb? Fine,” Sukuna says, spinning a chair and straddling it backward as he stares you down. “But don’t pretend like it’s just sex when you’re moaning my name like you fuckin’ mean it.”
You stare, heart pounding. “You’re being an asshole.”
“I’m being honest.”
He turns to Gojo and Suguru, chin lifting.
“Y’know what her problem is?” he says, loud and clear. “She’s too fuckin’ loud when I’m bein’ nice.”
Gojo almost chokes on his toast.
Suguru finally cracks a grin. “We figured.”
You, meanwhile, are dying. Slowly. Internally combusting.
“Fuck all of you,” you mutter, turning to leave.
Sukuna just grins after you, biting into a slice of bread like he won the war.
Because maybe he did.
You were halfway back to your room before he yells, “HEY. I’m still makin’ breakfast! You want eggs or what?”
“…Scrambled.”
“Atta girl.”
Suguru shakes his head.
Gojo smirks. “Roommates, huh?”
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Taglist, @humeysaga @williamafton26 @aranisbaee @probablynotleahhhh @probablynotleahhhh. @beaniesayshi @levifiance @rinofcike @fushiguroooozzz @gojoscumslut @bellsoftheball @kunascutie. @after-laughter-come-tears. @minasuniverse, @chewiebee @ilovebeansya @drowsysausagedog, @shroomysstuff, @angel4-miba @paperalphys. @eyeless-kun @etsuniiru @inzayneforaj @domainexpansionmypants @bloodb3nders @toesucker59, @qsidrea @spidergirlnr1
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uncuredturkeybacon · 2 days ago
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𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
in which there’s six almosts and one forever
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You’ve never looked at her the way you did that night, not that she noticed.
Or maybe she did, in the way she always notices everything. In the way her hand had lingered on your waist a second too long during pictures. In the way her voice had softened when she whispered how pretty you looked when no one else was listening.
Paige had shown up to prom in a sleek, black suit. The only girl in a suit. The only one who looked better than every guy there, without even trying. Her tie matched your dress, and you’d told everyone it was a coincidence. But she’d driven to five different stores with you two weeks before just to find the exact shade of cornflower blue.
“I told you it’d match,” she said, tugging at her collar in the mirror as you pinned your hair.
You’d only hummed in response, because if you said too much, she might see it. The way your hands shook a little when she got too close. The way you looked at her like she’d hung the moon and then stuck around to make sure it didn’t fall.
After prom, someone had thrown a party. You’d gone because she wanted to and she’d stayed sober because you wanted her to. Around two a.m., you’d both left, saying the music sucked and the drinks were watered down. But really, you just wanted quiet. And her.
You sat on the hood of her car in your heels for all of two minutes before slipping them off and tucking your knees up beneath your dress. She laughed at you, quiet and low, and you almost asked her to laugh like that forever. Instead, you looked up at the stars and asked, “Do you think we’ll remember this night?”
She leaned back on her elbows beside you. “I’ll remember how cold your feet were.”
You nudged her shoulder. She caught your foot when it swung toward her and wrapped her hand around your ankle. Her fingers were warm.
“Seriously,” you murmured, not daring to meet her eyes. “Do you think we’ll look back and be like… wow, we had no idea what we were doing?”
“We still won’t,” she said, softer this time. “Even when we’re old.”
You turned toward her then, and she was already looking at you. Her eyes weren’t doing that flickering thing people do when they glance between your eyes and mouth. No, Paige Bueckers was nothing if not decisive. Her gaze was steady. Unflinching.
You didn’t know how it happened exactly, if you leaned in or she did. It felt mutual. Magnetic. Your knees bumped, her hand slid from your ankle to your shin. Your nose brushed hers.
The moment hovered. Pressed in. So real you could count the freckles across her cheekbone.
And then headlights flooded the parking lot, the spell broke.
Paige flinched back. You blinked hard. Some freshman couple piled out of a car, laughing like they hadn’t just interrupted the most important almost of your life.
She coughed and stood. “I’ll drive you home.”
You nodded, wordless, and got into the passenger seat. You both stayed quiet the whole way, save for her hand resting palm-up on the console. You almost took it.
You didn’t.
The lake smelled like sun-warmed cedar and melted marshmallows. It smelled like summer, and endings, and the ache that comes when something is about to shift forever.
You and Paige had come with a group of friends, the last trip before everyone left for college. She’d driven the three hours with you in the passenger seat, windows down, your playlist humming over the wind. She knew every lyric. Harmonized when she thought you wouldn’t notice.
The house was her friend Claire’s. Big, quiet, tucked into the woods. You all rotated cooking shifts, took turns stealing beers from the cooler, floated on inner tubes until your skin wrinkled. You watched her like you always did, subtly, steadily, desperately trying not to be obvious.
But Paige had this way of looking at you when no one else was looking. Not just looking… seeing. And sometimes, when the light hit her just right, it felt like she was holding something back.
On the third night, you couldn’t sleep. You slipped out of bed around one a.m., barefoot and wrapped in an oversized hoodie, and padded down to the dock.
She was already there.
Sitting cross-legged, hoodie pulled over her head, hands resting on her knees. She didn’t turn when you approached, just said, “Knew you’d come out eventually.”
You lowered yourself beside her without answering. Your legs barely touched.
“I was trying to sleep,” you murmured. “But my brain doesn’t shut up lately.”
“Same,” she said. “I keep thinking… this is the last time we’ll all be together like this. Before everything changes.”
“Do you want it to change?”
She didn’t answer right away. Just looked out over the glassy water, a reflection of stars trembling on its surface.
“I want to play,” she said finally. “But I don’t want to leave this.”
You watched her profile—soft jawline, a shadow of freckles, mouth drawn tight like she was holding words back. You wanted to kiss her so badly it hurt.
“I’ll miss you,” you said, because it was safe. Because it didn’t answer anything and still meant everything.
Paige turned to face you. Her knee pressed against yours.
“I’ll miss you more.”
It sounded like a confession. Like a promise. Like the first few chords of a song you’ve heard in a dream.
She reached up and pushed your hair behind your ear. Her knuckles grazed your cheek.
It wasn’t a normal touch. It wasn’t just friendly. It felt like fire under your skin.
You froze.
She was so close now. You could count her lashes. Her breath came a little shallow, like yours. Her hand stayed there, curled against the side of your face, her thumb stroking gently beneath your cheekbone.
“You always smell like oranges,” she whispered. “Drives me crazy.”
You smiled, barely. “That’s… not the worst thing someone’s said to me.”
She laughed, nervous. And then the laughter faded. Her face shifted. Serious. Searching.
And she leaned in.
Just a breath. Just enough to make your heart stutter. Her forehead touched yours. Her hand dropped from your cheek to your knee, warm, steady.
You didn’t move.
You should’ve.
She wanted you to.
But some part of you—afraid or proud or just not ready—flinched.
You tilted your head the wrong way. She stopped. Her mouth hovered centimeters from yours.
And then she pulled back.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, getting up, brushing the back of her hand across her face. “I was—sorry.”
“Paige—”
But she was already halfway down the dock, her silhouette swallowed by shadows and silence.
You sat there a long time, alone with the moon and your cowardice.
You hadn’t seen her in nearly a year.
Not since that awkward goodbye at the lake house, not since she'd texted you safe drive at midnight the day you left for your college out west. You both stayed in touch, barely. A few birthday texts, a couple of liked posts, one video call over winter break that started as a joke and ended with both of you silent, neither hanging up, just staring at each other through a screen like maybe the silence could say what words couldn’t.
But summer after sophomore year came, and with it, a plan, you were flying east to visit a friend in Boston. UConn was only a couple hours away. So, you reached out.
hey. gonna be nearby. wanna catch up?
She responded instantly.
absolutely. stay with me.
Now you’re here.
The UConn campus is empty and golden in the late afternoon light. Most students are gone for the summer. Paige’s dorm is quiet, lived-in. Her shoes by the door, a hoodie slung over the back of a chair, her practice schedule pinned to the mini-fridge.
It smells like laundry detergent and something warm underneath it, her shampoo, maybe. Something you used to catch hints of when she hugged you too long.
She’s all grown up now.
Her jaw sharper, her arms stronger, her voice a little deeper when she talks. But she still looks at you the same way. Like you hung the moon.
You spend the first few hours walking campus. She shows you her favorite spot behind the practice gym where she hides after bad games. You lie on your backs under the bleachers, side by side, just like that night on the dock. This time, she doesn’t reach for you.
That night, back in her dorm, you sit on her bed while she rummages for snacks. She’s in sweatpants and a black tank top, hair pulled back loosely, curls soft around her face.
You watch her like you’ve always watched her—trying not to, failing anyway.
“You remember prom night?” she asks, tossing you a pack of peanut M&Ms.
You blink. “Random.”
“Just thinking about it,” she says, settling onto the bed beside you, her shoulder almost touching yours. “You looked good.”
You laugh. “You wore a suit. Everyone looked at you like you turned water into wine.”
She smiles. Shrugs. “I just wanted to match you.”
You go quiet for a minute. The hum of her fan the only sound between you.
“I thought you were gonna kiss me that night,” you say.
She turns her head toward you slowly. “I was.”
You meet her gaze, pulse quickening. “Why didn’t you?”
“You looked scared.”
You swallow. “I wasn’t.”
She reaches up, slowly, hand cupping your cheek, like she’s daring you to flinch again. You don’t. This time, you lean into her touch.
“I’m not scared now,” you whisper.
She moves closer.
Her hand stays on your face. Her thumb brushes over your bottom lip, and you feel her breath against your mouth. It’s soft. Hot. The kind of closeness that makes time stutter.
Her eyes flicker.
You tilt your chin up just slightly. Invitation. Surrender. Whatever she wants.
But instead of your lips, she kisses your jaw.
It’s soft. Reverent. Barely there. Like a promise she still doesn’t quite trust herself to make.
When she pulls back, her lips linger against your skin. She stays there, her forehead resting against your temple.
“I wanted to kiss you,” she murmurs. “But I didn’t want to ruin the night.”
Your hands are fists in the comforter. You’re not sure whether to cry or scream.
“You wouldn’t have ruined anything.”
She pulls back, searching your face.
But the moment passes. The window closes. You both know it.
She lays back on the bed beside you, her hand slipping into yours like it’s nothing.
Like you’re still pretending.
— 
Paige invited you in early November. She did it casually, in a voice message that started with “Don’t laugh at me” and ended with “You should just come. Stay the whole week.”
You said yes before she finished talking.
You flew in two days before Christmas Eve, suitcase full of sweaters you never wear in California, nerves tucked somewhere between your curling iron and a bag of gifts. You hadn’t seen her since summer. Since the almost. Since that night in her dorm where she kissed your jaw and held your hand like it was a stand-in for your heart.
Now, you’re in her childhood home in Minnesota, standing in the kitchen while her mom rolls sugar cookies and her little cousins chase each other around the island. There’s Christmas music playing from a speaker on the counter and the scent of pine and cinnamon in the air. The whole house feels like a Hallmark movie.
Paige walks in with snow melting in her hair, brushing it from her hoodie. Her cheeks are red from the cold. She finds you with her eyes first, always. She tugs you toward the living room like she doesn’t even think about it.
You spend the evening on the couch beside her, legs tangled under a blanket while Home Alone plays in the background. She laughs into your shoulder, and her hand keeps finding your knee, her thigh pressed against yours like it's second nature.
It’s loud. It’s messy. It’s beautiful. Her family is everywhere—cousins, aunts, uncles, siblings, all talking over one another, offering you cocoa, asking about school. You belong here. You know it in your bones.
Later, after dessert, after the little ones are in pajamas and the grown-ups are settling in for a midnight game of charades, you sneak away.
You need air.
You find yourself in the hallway by the front door, your hands shoved into your cardigan pockets, staring out the frosted window at the yard blanketed in snow. The silence is a gift. It fills the space between your ribs.
Then you feel it—her presence before she speaks.
“You disappeared on me,” Paige says softly behind you.
You turn. She's in sweatpants now, hoodie pushed up to her forearms, her hair down and messy. Her eyes are so blue they make your throat catch.
“Needed a breather,” you say. She steps closer. Just one step. You nod to the window. “I forgot how quiet snow makes everything.”
She hums, not looking away from you.
And that’s when you notice it. Above your heads. Dangling on a thumbtack on the archway between the foyer and the hall. A sprig of mistletoe. Crooked. Old. Probably plastic.
You glance up. Then back at her.
She notices. Freezes.
It’s like the air shifts. The moment thickens. Time condenses.
She stares at you.
You stare back.
Neither of you move.
Her breath hitches, so quiet, you might’ve imagined it. Her eyes flick down to your mouth, just once.
You don’t look away.
Your heart’s in your throat. You take one step forward, close enough to feel the heat coming off her chest.
Her hand grazes your wrist.
And that’s when the door bursts open.
“PAIGE! MOM SAID TO GET THE HOT COCOA FROM THE BASEMENT—oh my god are you guys under the mistletoe?”
Her younger cousin. Maybe eleven. Grinning like he’s cracked some code.
You both jump back like teenagers caught making out behind a gym. You laugh—awkward and strangled. Paige mutters something about the basement and disappears down the stairs.
You press your back to the wall and close your eyes.
Another almost.
Another breath held, and let go too soon.
The music is low and the lighting too warm, all gold shimmer and champagne laughter in a private rooftop lounge in Brooklyn. The draft ended hours ago, but Paige is still glowing—eyes red, she changed into plaid slacks and a white button up, top button undone like she’s finally allowing herself to breathe.
Number one pick. Dallas Wings.
You watched her walk across that stage in a suit darker than midnight, camera flashes swallowing her whole. She looked tall. Calm. Untouchable. You clapped so hard your hands hurt. You didn’t cry until she smiled. That Paige Bueckers smile—the quiet, chest-softening one, like she’s not sure she deserves it all.
Now you’re here, standing in a corner of the rooftop with a drink you haven’t touched, watching her float between coaches, executives, old teammates, sponsors. She makes it look easy. Like she’s always belonged in this world.
But she still looks for you.
She spots you from across the room and excuses herself mid-conversation. She tugs at her cuffs as she walks toward you, a nervous habit she’s had since you were sixteen.
“Hi,” she says softly.
You smile, small and tired. “Hi, superstar.”
She snorts. “Don’t.”
“You are, though.”
“Only if you’re here to see it.”
There it is again—that thing in her voice. That weight. That quiet, aching center of her that never goes away when she talks to you.
You glance away. “Big night.”
She nods. “Feels weird.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” she says, stepping closer. “Like… everyone’s around me but I don’t really hear anyone.” You meet her eyes. She adds, “Except you.”
And maybe it’s the champagne. Or the fact that she looks unfair in that outfit with her chain glinting in the city light. Maybe it’s that you spent the whole night watching her succeed and all you could think about was how badly you wish you could have just… held her hand when she sat back down.
She takes another step. You can smell her cologne now. Clean and soft and steady.
“You look beautiful,” she says. It lands somewhere below your ribs.
You whisper, “You too.”
She exhales. Then, slowly, like she’s asking without asking, she reaches for your hand.
You hesitate. Just long enough. Just sharp enough. She notices. Your fingers twitch. But you don’t take hers.
Instead, you pull your hand away and wrap it around your glass.
And Paige—God, Paige—her whole face shifts. It’s not anger. It’s not even disappointment. It’s heartbreak in real time. The kind that doesn’t show up loud, but quiet. Immediate. Total.
She steps back.
You say nothing. Because what would you say?
Because if you said I wanted to, you’d have to explain why you didn’t.
Because if you said I’m scared, she’d believe you—and forgive you—and wait. Again.
Because if you said I love you, you’d never be able to take it back.
So instead you just smile like everything’s fine.
She nods, like she believes it.
And then someone calls her name, and she’s whisked away again, swallowed back up by everyone who gets to love her in public.
You lean on the balcony railing and stare out at the New York skyline, wondering how long you can keep almost touching her before the weight of it breaks you in half.
Dallas hums beneath your feet. The city, the people, the leftover adrenaline from watching her drop twenty-eight in regulation, glide across the court like gravity never applied. You’d sat courtside for the first time since the draft, invited by her, reluctantly accepted by you. You couldn’t keep your eyes off her.
Not when she hit the pull-up three at the buzzer.
Not when her jaw clenched during the national anthem.
Not when she looked up mid-game and found you without even trying.
It’s hours later now. You didn’t mean to follow her home. You told yourself you’d just go back to your hotel, maybe text her something brief and supportive. Something careful. But then she found you in the tunnel after press, hair still damp, jersey swapped for sweats, and said, “Come over. Please.”
So here you are. Outside her apartment. In the hallway you’ve never seen. A hallway that could be in any city, in any life, in any version of the two of you where you hadn’t let the last five years go quiet.
She unlocks the door without a word. You step inside. It’s dim. Her kitchen smells faintly like coffee. Her shoes are by the door. You stand awkwardly in the silence, hands at your sides like you’re fifteen again.
She doesn’t ask if you want water. Doesn’t turn on the lights.
She just turns to face you and it’s all over her.
Tension like a storm surge. Like a held breath. Like every single almost dragging behind you both like tin cans off the bumper of a just-married car.
You take her in slowly. The way her chest rises, like she’s forcing herself to stay calm. The way her hands flex at her sides. The shadows across her jaw, sharper now. She’s taller than you remember.
“You didn’t pull away this time,” she says. Her voice is low. Measured.
You blink. “What?”
“After the game,” she says. “You stayed.”
You swallow. “I didn’t want to.”
She tilts her head. “Didn’t want to stay?”
“Didn’t want to leave.”
She nods once, slowly, like she’s weighing something that’s been heavy for years.
“You always leave.”
It’s not an accusation. It’s just… true.
You nod. “I know.” The silence between you crackles. “I didn’t come here to—”
“I know,” she cuts in, stepping forward.
You tense. Not from fear. From sheer velocity of want.
“But I need to ask you something,” she says. “And I need you to really answer.”
You brace yourself.
“Have you ever wanted me?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s the clearest thing you’ve ever heard.
You could lie. You could dodge. You could do what you’ve always done, hide behind the timing, the friendship, the thousand versions of not yet you’ve built like armor.
But instead, you step forward too.
“Every single version of you.”
Her jaw tightens. She’s close now. Closer than the night at prom. Closer than the dock. Closer than the jaw kiss, the mistletoe, the draft party. Her breath hits your lips when she exhales.
“So why didn’t you ever—?”
“Because I thought,” you say, your voice trembling, “that if I kissed you and lost you, I wouldn’t know how to survive it.” Her eyes go soft for the first time all night. You step closer. “But it turns out… not kissing you hurts just as much.”
She exhales sharply. Like your words knocked something loose.
You’re chest to chest now. Her hand brushes your waist—just barely. Your hands hover at her collar, not touching yet.
You don’t move.
She doesn’t either.
The moment is a wire stretched so tight it could snap at any second. And still, neither of you moves.
Because after all this time, even now—neither of you knows if the next breath will be another almost.
Or finally.
You see her across the room before she sees you.
It’s a private New Year’s Eve party, tucked in a penthouse loft just a few blocks off Times Square. Industry people everywhere—agents, teammates, stylists, execs. People who have somewhere to be, someone to impress, someone watching.
You weren’t supposed to come.
You weren’t even supposed to be in the city. But a flight rerouted, a friend insisted, and then there was her name in conversation, tossed casually like it hadn’t once held you in place through five years of silence and tension and ache.
Now you’re here.
And she’s here.
Paige stands near the floor to ceiling windows, lit by city light and the champagne fizz of countdown anticipation. Her hair’s slicked back into a low bun, a black satin suit hugging her frame like it was made to. She’s taller than you remember, or maybe it’s the shoes, or the fact that every time she looks out at the skyline, she stands like she owns it.
She hasn’t seen you yet.
You should leave.
You should turn around before you ruin her night with your history.
But your feet don’t move. Because your heart already has. It moved the moment you saw her. Like it always does.
And then, she turns.
Her eyes land on yours.
And everything in the room, in the city, in the entire electric sky, drops away.
You see it in her face, the same breathless flicker of disbelief. Like maybe you’re a hallucination. Like maybe this time, you’re not real.
You are.
You cross the room slowly. Carefully. Like you’ve done this before in dreams. Like maybe if you step wrong, the spell will shatter.
She watches you come.
Her eyes are wide, her lips parted. When you stop in front of her, it’s close. Too close. The kind of close that would be rude if it wasn’t inevitable.
“You came,” she says, like she doesn’t trust it.
You nod, barely. “You look…”
“You always say that,” she whispers.
You laugh under your breath. “Because it’s always true.”
She looks like she might cry. Or kiss you. Or both.
You glance at the clock on the wall. Eleven fifty-nine. The room buzzes around you with the countdown, but no one else exists. Not really.
Not after five years of almosts.
Not after prom night and a lake dock and her dorm and mistletoe and draft night and the way she stared at you in her apartment like maybe she couldn’t take it anymore.
You’re the one who speaks next. “Why didn’t you move that night?”
Her eyes flicker. “Because I wanted you to move first.”
“Why?”
She exhales. “Because I needed to know it was real. That you were finally ready.”
You nod slowly. And then, gently, “I am.”
The countdown echoes louder around you.
Ten.
Her hand grazes your hip.
Nine.
Yours finds the lapel of her suit jacket.
Eight.
She leans in an inch, trembling.
Seven.
You don’t pull away.
Six.
She swallows hard.
Five.
Her eyes flick down to your mouth.
Four.
Yours flick up to hers.
Three.
Her thumb strokes your waist like it might anchor her.
Two.
She whispers, “Please don’t almost me again.”
One.
And finally… finally, you don’t.
You kiss her.
You kiss her like the world is ending and beginning at once. Like the last five years all existed just to lead here. Like every almost was a chapter and this is the story finally breaking open. Her hands slide around your back, pulling you in like she can’t believe it’s happening. You gasp into her mouth, and she swallows it, and you let her. Let her take whatever you’ve got left.
Fireworks explode outside.
People cheer.
You don’t notice.
You’re too busy memorizing the way her mouth feels against yours, how her body curls around you like home, how she kisses you like she’s starving and relieved and terrified and alive all at once.
When you pull back, you’re breathless. Both of you.
She presses her forehead to yours, chest heaving. “You came back.”
You nod against her. “I never really left.”
She closes her eyes.
You kiss her again.
And this time—this time—it’s not almost.
It’s everything.
The windows are fogged with the breath of dawn, the skyline blurred into pastel streaks of orange. Somewhere far below, New York is waking—horns honking, heels clicking, coffee brewing. But up here, in Paige’s hotel room, it’s quiet.
Not silent. Not completely.
You can hear her breath.
It ghosts against your shoulder as she stirs beside you, still half-asleep. Her arm is heavy around your waist, her nose buried behind your neck like she’s trying to memorize how you smell before the world gets loud again.
You’ve barely slept.
Not because you were up all night—not in that way. No, last night wasn’t frantic or rushed or skin against skin just for the sake of catching up. It was… slow. Earnest. Careful in a way only people who have waited this long can be.
She kissed you like she couldn’t believe you were real.
You held her like you couldn’t risk her slipping away again.
And then, in the quiet hours after midnight, you lay tangled in her bed fully clothed, your bodies pressed together under the covers, her hand resting on your stomach, your fingers curled into the sleeve of her hoodie like a tether.
You’d talked until you couldn’t anymore. About prom. About the dock. The kiss on your jaw. The draft. Her apartment. Everything you never let yourself say.
Now, sunlight cuts across the hardwood floor, and Paige shifts behind you, her voice thick with sleep.
“You’re still here.”
You smile, eyes still closed. “I’m still here.”
She nuzzles your shoulder. “Good.”
You roll onto your back and look at her. Her eyes are still sleepy, lids heavy. Her hair is a mess and her voice is scratchy and she’s never looked more beautiful in her life.
“You know,” she says, brushing your knuckles with hers, “I spent so long telling myself I was fine with being your almost.”
You blink up at her. “Why?”
She shrugs, eyes flicking down to your mouth. “Because some part of me thought that was better than not having you at all.”
You reach for her hand. “Don’t ever settle for almost again. Not with me.”
She intertwines her fingers with yours. “I won’t.”
She leans in slowly, gives you a kiss so soft it feels like a secret. Her thumb traces the edge of your jaw when she pulls back.
“I want everything,” she whispers.
“You have it.”
And she does.
She has it all.
Every part of you she’s ever reached for—your smile, your silence, your fear, your longing, your kiss—is hers now.
And when she lays her head on your chest, arm draped across your stomach, breath syncing to yours, you realize you’ve never felt more certain of anything in your life.
She’s not your almost anymore.
She’s your forever.
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bratzray · 2 days ago
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ᥫ᭡Forever Theirs ᥫ᭡
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❥ Chapter 1: Introduction?
Warning: Obsessive behavior, stalking, mental tension, Baby is an iPad kid {saw this head-cannon and I loved it}
Synopsis: You finally made it to Korea, in your dream apartment and neighborhood. You decide to get to know your environment better than you do now when you meet them, The Saja Boys. They were singing their debut song “Soda Pop”, you watched for a little bit before continuing on your way, slowly forgetting about the performance. You finished your day by reading in the park before noticing something was off…
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Korea wasn’t the first option but it always was an option. Living in America and just making it by wasn’t ideal but moving to another country wasn’t something you saw yourself doing but you never downplayed the idea
You spoke to your family and close friends, saying your goodbyes because you don’t think you’ll be coming back, but at least you have one of your closest friends Ji-yoo coming with you. His mother’s family comes from Korea but his father was American, he wanted to come with you because he wanted to be closer to the other side of his family. 
The trip to Korea wasn’t all that bad, in fact it was kinda enjoyable, but getting settled in was the problem. You managed to find an apartment before moving to Korea but the problem was you had to get to it and with no car it was going to be a trip. 
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You finished moving into your apartment, it took a good while because most of the stuff you wanted needed to be shipped, but the apartment is finally yours’ 
You wanted to take a walk when you get a call, you look for your phone and end up finding it and picking up 
“Hello?” 
“Why are you speaking to me like you don’t know who’d be calling you this early?” 
“Hi Ji what do you want?” you ask, trying to find your purse to complete your outfit 
“You remember our little date plan right?” he ask with a slight attitude
“Yes I wouldn’t dare to forget, I’m going out right now to get some food to make.” you say, rolling your eyes at his attitude 
“Yea you better, because knowing you if I hadn’t called you would’ve forgotten.” he said as you hear a car door slamming in the background 
“Where are you right now?” you ask before rushing to your window and seeing him leaning on the side of his car
“Why the hell are you outside my apartment right now…” you ask him as you stare him down from your window 
“Girl stop talking and get your ass down here so we can go get this food.” he replied before looking up into your apartment building and flipping you off. You repeat the action back before finally putting your shoes on and walking to the elevator. 
You meet Ji-yoo at the front before he practically tackles you into a hug 
“You take too long, you know that?” he ask before letting go of you and fixing your frizzy hair, you roll your eyes before responding 
“Let's not talk about who’s taking too long because last time I checked, last dinner date we planned it took you almost 2 hours to even make it to my house…” you say looking at him annoyed 
“We turned a new leaf [✮], we don’t talk about the past.” he said snarky before walking away towards his car. 
You just huffed before making your way towards him, waiting for him to get what he needed from the car. You guys started walking towards the convenient store before you heard and saw a crowd of people, looking around you and Ji-yoo started making your way to the crowd when you heard it 
The Saja boys. That’s what this little boy group was called, or so you assumed since that’s what people were screaming. You watch their performance and for the most part they’re pretty good, but something in you was pushing you closer to them, pushing you to speak to them. You shove that feeling away and continue to watch, humming some of the parts that repeat itself. 
You try to find Ji-yoo before seeing him standing on the other side, practically salivating at the boys. You rolled your eyes before trying to shove your way through the crowd to make it to him, you almost made it when you saw him, or more so he saw you. One of the boys made direct eye contact with you, and he was holding it for a long time. It made you nervous, but you couldn’t look away. 
It felt like hours of just you and him staring at each other, before Ji-yoo snapped you out of it. 
“Come on before we get distracted again.” he said before pulling you out of the crowd and making it to the store. 
“Ji, was it me or was that boy staring mad hard at me?” you ask him before putting some ramen and kimbap into your basket
“No, I noticed but maybe it’s just that idol boy charm, probably nothing much really.” he said before he walked away 
You shake your head agreeing but there’s something in you telling you it was more than just that, that it wasn’t just an idol boy look, he looked like he was trying to find out something about you, like you stole money from him and he wanted to make sure it was you.  
You just shake away that feeling and continue with your shopping, getting snacks that you and Ji plan on scoffing down once you make it home 
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 On the other side of the city were the Saja Boys, they had just finished their debut performance before making it back to their apartment but something had been on Romance’s mind for hours and he just couldn’t shake it off. He finally build up the courage and asked 
“Was it only me, but did y’all feel her there too?” he asked before looking around the room at the boys 
Jinu huffs, “I did, but it was probably just nothing.” he replied shaking his head, but he knows deep down it wasn’t just nothing 
“No it wasn’t just nothing, I felt her and something’s telling me I saw her too.” Romance replied, huffing slightly at Jinu ignoring what he said 
“He’s right Jin, I felt her too.” Abby finally spoke up before looking up from his phone over to the two boys, while the other two were in their own world 
Baby laughed slightly before speaking up, “I found her, y’all are just useless.” He huffed before shoving his ipad into Romance’s arms. It was your instagram, it had nearly every picture you’ve ever taken, pictures of you and Ji-yoo, your family, and even you moving to Korea. 
“YES! That’s her, that’s who I saw, I bet you that’s who Gwi-ma was talking about!” Romance jumped up before shoving the Ipad into Jinu’s arms,
 “SEE LOOK FOR YOURSELF!!” he said, before dancing, feeling like he proved a point, just then Jinu looked at the Ipad and felt his heart pang even more than it already was, it was really you. 
“Now are we all just gonna sit here and do nothing, because I found her address…” Baby said before continuing to drink out of some type of bottle. The rest of the boys looked at him before finally deciding to go out and look for you, their soulmate. 
You and Ji-yoo were having the best night ever, just watching movies and eating the snack y’all brought earlier but it was getting late and he had work the next day. You lead Ji-yoo out to his car before giving him a hug and letting him go on his way. 
It was slightly warm and nobody was outside so you decided to just sit down at a bench that was near a small pond by the side of your apartment building. You were there for a while, kittens were just roaming around before one jumped onto your lap while you pet it. 
It was calming, with a slight wind and somewhat chilly air until you got this feeling, it was the same feeling you got when you were watching the Saja boys but this one felt different. It wasn’t that warm feeling anymore, it was more or so a feeling of being watched or even observed. 
This feeling never went away so you looked around, trying to find out where that feeling was coming from, but you found nothing. Not wanting to find out anymore you made your way back into your home, the little kitten that was on your lap followed you home. You’ll just keep in mind you’ll have to go shopping for your new companion. 
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The boys observed you, they watched how you pet the kittens around you, they watched how your body relaxed in the slight breeze that was around you. They loved everything about you and they weren’t willing to let that feeling go. 
“See, I told you it was her, just look at her.” Romance said with “heart eyes” as he followed your every movement
“I don’t believe it…” Jinu said looking stunned at your beauty 
“She’s…wow” Mystery mumbled to himself before leaning in closer from the corner to look at you better 
Baby and Abby were quiet, just looking and following the way you moved, slight obsession filled their eyes, they wanted to be closer, to have more of you. But before they could do anything everyone froze, as they watched you look around, slight fear on your face. That’s when they noticed you begin to leave, but Baby wasn’t going to let you go just yet. 
As you were making your way into your apartment building, baby followed right behind you, ignoring the constant protest from the others. He was silent, just following you until he saw you open your door and close it after the kitten that was following you got inside. That’s when he walked over to your closed door and took a picture of your apartment number. 
Some may call it stalking, but he’s just getting to know more about his soon to be lover. He finally makes it back outside before he was meant with four angry faces. 
“Why the hell would you follow her?” Romance said before grabbing Baby and pulling him into the rest of the boys as they surround him in a circle 
“What if you get caught then what?” Jinu said sternly before plucking Baby on the head 
“How were we supposed to help if someone saw you?” Abby said shaking his head before huffing 
Mystery stayed silent but by the look on his face, he wasn’t happy with what Baby did. Yes they wanted to get to know more about you and yes they might be a little obsessed with you, but following you home was a different topic. As the three boys continued to give Baby a stern talking that when he finally spoke up 
“Do you want her address or not? We can send her gifts now…” He said as he looked at the other boys, it took them a while to respond before Mystery spoke up 
“No gifts right now but soon.” He said before walking away, the boys followed after him 
“Do you really have her apartment number?” Abby asked as Baby pulled out his phone and showed him the picture of your apartment number. The other two looked at the photo and smiled, they finally found their soulmate, and they don’t plan on letting you go.
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❥ Chapter 2
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fanficsat12am · 2 days ago
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You were never supposed to matter (1)
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Targeting the fans was only the beginning. If he truly wants to bring down HUNTR/X, Jinu knows he has to strike at their core by focusing on one of their beloved managers, (Y/N). But what happens when the demon prince of pop finds himself falling for the very heart he planned to break?
wc: 1.9k
divider credits go to @hyuneskkami 💛
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Letting out a sigh, your shoulders droop in exhaustion, your marbled countertop now looking like the softest mattress in all of Korea. With the way the Saja Boys have been climbing the charts lately, Rumi’s voice disappearing, and the backlash from the canceled live performance, you had no idea how you were supposed to manage this nightmare.
You knew about the girls’ second life—how they protected the world from Gwi-Ma’s demons while maintaining the perfect image of K-pop idols. You were one of the few people Rumi trusted with her secret, having accidentally seen the marks on her back during a fitting. After years of working with HUNTR/X, you’d gotten good at spinning lies to Bobby and the others: exploding demons? Special effects. The girls falling from the sky mid-rehearsal? Just some ambitious wire work. But with the recent threat of the hot, muscular demon boy band, you had been on your toes for days, coordinating with the PR team on how to keep the girls afloat amongst their competitors. 
Your eyelids begin to droop, heavy from exhaustion—until something shifts.
The air changes. The night breeze picks up, colder now, sharper. 
Your eyes snap open. You reach back, grabbing the nearest knife from the block. As you spin around, your blade lands inches away from a familiar figure—a raven-haired boy standing in your kitchen. 
“Easy, easy, easy,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender. As he takes a step closer, the streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains reveal him in his human form—the one plastered across billboards and fangirl daydreams.
And who could blame them?
He was the epitome of perfection. The sharp jawline, the tousled black hair, the lean frame that moved with dancer precision—it was a weapon in itself. He was sculpted to charm, built to be adored. Even now, bathed in silver light, he looked less like a demon and more like a dream.
But it was his eyes that made you hesitate—those honey-colored irises, warm and gleaming with something almost human. Almost.
“What the hell are you doing in my house?” you demand, eyes narrowing.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he replies calmly.
“Oh sure, because trusting a demon has never gone wrong before,” you snap, stepping closer, the blade still pointed at him.
But he doesn’t flinch.
“Well... your little friend believed me when I promised to keep her secret. Purple hair with demon marks sound familiar?”
That stops you. Just for a moment. Just enough.
Jinu sees it—and steps forward, gently pressing a finger to the tip of your knife and guiding it away.
“Now that I have your attention,” he says calmly, “I want to help you.”
You let out a sharp laugh. “And what makes you think I’d ever believe you?”
He sighs, gaze lowering. “I don’t expect you to. I just… I want to be like her. To be free. But until they reach the Golden Honmoon, we’ll never escape Gwi-Ma’s control.”
Your jaw tightens. “You have those marks for a reason.”
“I made a mistake—”
“No,” you snap. “You made a choice.”
Your grip tightens on the knife. “And that’s why I can never trust someone like you.”
In a split second, the blade flies from your hand—but before it can touch him, he vanishes in a puff of violet smoke. The knife hits the wall with a dull thunk, then clatters to the wooden floor.
A small, pale blue card flutters down from where he once stood. You hesitate before picking it up.
A cartoon duck smiles on the front.
You open it.
Inside, in delicate handwriting, it reads:
“Come find me when you’re ready to listen.”
You roll your eyes, toss the card into the bin, and fall back onto the couch with an exhausted sigh.
But as the night settles in, you can’t help but wonder, why did Rumi trust him? And why, deep down, did part of you want to believe him too.
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As you watched the girls practice the dance for what felt like the umpteenth time, your mind kept wandering back to last night’s encounter. There had to be a catch. Demons were all the same—selfish, vile, cruel.
So what did he really want?
The memory of his honey-colored eyes lingered like a bruise in your thoughts. Warm, almost sincere—but lies always wore a pretty face.
So many questions spun through your head like a whirlpool, dragging you under until—
“Helloooo?”
You blinked. Zoey was waving her hand inches from your face.
“Earth to (Y/N)?” she teased, dragging out the last word.
Your eyes widened, snapping back to the three girls now staring at you.
“You okay?” Mira asked, head tilting, brows furrowed with a mix of concern and suspicion. “You’ve been acting… different today.”
Zoey pipes up again, “Yeah, you’ve been looking at us like—” She tilts her head to the side, eyes wide, like she’s under a spell.
You giggle softly. “Yes, I’m fine. Just thinking.” You send them a reassuring smile.
They all nod, understanding. You always had a lot on your plate as a manager.
“We’ll go ahead and call it a day,” Rumi says. “Let’s pick it back up tomorrow.”
The other girls sigh in relief, clearly eager to be swallowed by the nearest couch. As they turn to pack their things, you reach out and gently grab Rumi by the wrist. She stops, her violet hair swaying slightly as she looks back at you.
“Can we talk?” you whisper.
Her brows crease. “Yeah, sure, uhm…” She glances over to Zoey and Mira. “You guys go ahead. I’ll catch up later.”
“Sounds good,” Mira calls. “See you tomorrow, (Y/N)!”
“Bye, (Y/N)!” Zoey waves excitedly before leaving with her pink-haired companion.
Once the door clicks shut behind them, the room grows quieter.
You turn to Rumi, wasting no time.
“Have you been talking to Jinu?” Your voice is firm. “And don’t lie to me.”
She stiffens. Her eyes dart away, debating silently. Then, quietly—
“Yes.”
You let go of her hand as if burned, staring at her like she just suggested disbanding HUNTR/X.
“Rumi…”
“It’s not what you think—”
“Not what I think?” Your voice sharpens. “Rumi, he’s a demon! One of the very monsters you’ve sworn to hunt and destroy. You’ve hated their kind since you were a little girl!”
She hesitates, but then… she speaks.
“He’s different.”
She bites her lip. “He’s not like the others we’ve fought. He just… he doesn’t enjoy the hurting. It’s like he’s trapped in something he didn’t ask for.” She pulls her sleeve up slightly, revealing the faint glowing marks etched into her skin. 
“People change,” she says, voice low. “Sometimes… they just need a reason to.”
Before you could respond, the studio lights flickered once… twice… then died. The room plunged into darkness.
“Get out,” Rumi said sharply, her voice instantly shifting into that protective, no-nonsense tone. “Now.”
“Wait, what are you—”
“Go!” she shouted, already dashing in the opposite direction.
Heart pounding like a war drum in your chest, you grabbed your phone with trembling hands and fumbled to switch on the flashlight. The weak beam flickered to life, cutting through the thick veil of darkness as you sprinted down the hallway, footsteps echoing against the studio walls.
But halfway through, you skidded to a stop—your breath caught in your throat.
A low, sickening growl echoed from the shadows ahead. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t even close.
Then came the sound of claws—wet, ragged, scraping against the walls. From the cracks and corners, they emerged—a horde of demons, crawling out like living smoke. Half-shadow, half-nightmare. Spines jagged like broken glass. Eyes glowing red in the dark. Limbs bending wrong, too many joints, too many teeth.
You turned to run—but they were faster. One leapt toward you, its mouth splitting open in a shriek that pierced your skull.
You screamed, stumbling back, and instinctively squeezed your eyes shut.
You braced for the pain. For the end.
But it never came.
Instead, a feral snarl ripped through the air, so loud and guttural it made your bones rattle. The sickening crunch of impact followed, like something had been thrown straight into the wall. Hard.
Your eyes snapped open.
There, standing between you and the demon pack, was a tall figure draped in a jet-black hanbok, its fabric swaying gently like smoke in the still air.
“Jinu?” you whispered
But not the Jinu you knew.
His human illusion had fallen away. He wore a traditional black gat, its ribbon fluttering in the unnatural wind that had suddenly stirred. From beneath the wide brim, his eyes burned golden—not warm, but wild, predatory. Smoke, thick and purple-black, coiled around the edges of his silhouette.
His body moved like liquid shadow, sleek and elegant, but every step oozed restrained violence. The demon who had attacked you lay crushed against the wall in a heap of limbs, twitching before going still.
Jinu didn’t even glance back.
He didn’t speak.
But as the others lunged at him, he moved with a speed that was inhumane.
Effortless. Precise. Beautiful in a way that made your breath catch and your spine crawl.
He cut through them like a blade of darkness��one clawed hand dragging a demon to the ground, the other summoning a flick of searing smoke that split through flesh like fire through paper. Each motion was deliberate, calculated, protective—but brutal.
You stared, frozen.
Not because you were afraid.
But because you understood.
He hadn’t come for them.
He came for you.
You watched as he dealt with the last of them, holding it by the throat and with a crack of finality, letting it fall limp to the ground—it’s body fading into ashes. He looks back to you, but the look of anger and bloodshed in his bright golden eyes was gone, now back to a warm hue. The silence seemed to stretch between the two of you, almost palpable. He walks towards you. Every step echoed in your ears, louder than your own heartbeat. Your instincts screamed—Run. Turn away. Don’t let him get close. But you stay frozen in your spot. He stopped just inches away, closer than you should’ve ever let a demon get. He raised his hand slowly. You flinched and shut your eyes, breath hitching sharply. 
This is it, he’s going to kill me himself. 
Instead, you felt his ice-cold finger lifted your chin gently, his touch featherlight. Your eyes fluttered open. You find his gaze inspecting every inch of your face, his bows furrowing just the slightest as he memorized every detail. 
“Are you okay?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice. 
You nodded, though your voice trembled. “Y-yeah.”
He let out a soft breath, the corner of his lips curling into the faintest smile. “Good.”
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then his expression shifted—just slightly, like a storm creeping back in behind his eyes.
“I shouldn’t have come here,” he murmured, gaze dropping for a second. 
Before you can speak, he steps back. The smoke curling around his form starts to rise again, swallowing him like mist.
“Wait—” you call out, reaching a hand toward him
But he’s already fading.
“Don’t follow me,” he says, voice soft but clear. “Not until you’re ready.”
Then, just like before, he vanishes into a ripple of violet haze.
You’re left standing in silence. The hallway, once haunted by demons, now feels too still. Too empty.
And then… something flutters gently to the floor.
Your eyes lower.
Another card.
Same pale blue. Same cartoon duck. But now, taped to the back, a single ticket—National Theater of Korea. Tomorrow. 8 p.m.
You pick it up slowly, heart thudding in your ears.
Inside the card, in that same careful handwriting:
“Come find me. I’ll be waiting.”
You want to throw it away.
You should throw it away.
But instead, your fingers tighten around it. You stare at it for a moment longer… then quietly tuck it into your pocket.
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beaureveries · 1 day ago
Note
I feel like after the Paige's reaction to her own jersey fic, you gotta do a follow up about her reaction to Georgia's jersey
ONE SHOT : YOU’RE REALLY WEARING THAT?
paige x azzi
Trigger: lil jealous P and playful Az, fluff.
y’all know I had to make this 🙂‍↕️, super duper late post cause I got writing slump suddenly.
You guys still wanted it, so I deliver 🫡
——————————————————————————
The court warmup was alive with rhythm. The songs were making them hyped, Paige moving through her shots in sync with the rest of the Wings, feet light, passes sharp, zone dialed in. She was focused, mostly.
Until Georgia Amoore passed through.
Paige didn’t think much of it at first.
Georgia was walking with something in her hand, jersey maybe. Paige only noticed it because Georgia passed her, she paused just slightly, dabbed Paige up casually, and kept moving toward the right side of the court.
All good. Normal.
Paige went back to her shots.
But from the corner of her eye, she caught it.
Georgia and Azzi.
Talking near the bench on the right side. Just a quick catch up, probably. Azzi knew her too, so she didn’t really think of it as anything.
A few minutes passed, warmups shifted. Arike called out to her, motioned to switch drills.
“Let’s go up front.”
They moved closer to the court-side, now within full view of the benches. Azzi was sitting comfortably in the front row, legs crossed, casual like she belonged there, which to Paige, she did.
Arike spotted her immediately. “AZ!”
Azzi turned, smile flashing. “’Rike!”
They dabbed up like it was nothing.
Friends.
Familiar.
But that’s when Paige saw it.
Azzi’s outfit had changed since earlier, she was now no longer just in her white uconn crop top, there was something over it, covering it.
It was red and white.
It was a mystics jersey.
It was Georgia’s mystics jersey.
Paige blinked.
Confused.
Processing.
She stole another glance.
Yep. Georgia Amoore’s name right there on Azzi’s back. The same jersey Georgia had in her hand when she dabbed Paige up earlier.
Paige looked away. Back at the court. Dribbled once, maybe twice. Then looked back again. Gesturing her hands towards her own clothing as a sign of questioning what jersey Azzi was wearing.
Azzi didn’t see her. She was turned slightly, talking to someone on her left to some fan, maybe one of the arena crew.
Paige passed the ball back to Arike.
Focused.
Tried to be cool.
But she looked again.
Still nothing.
Third time.
Paige glanced up and this time, Azzi met her eyes.
And smiled.
Soft.
Innocent.
Like she hadn’t just committed betrayal in public.
Paige stared, blinking once. Then slowly tugged at the front of her own practice shirt. Tilted her head slightly and mouthed,
“Are you really wearing that?”
Azzi didn’t flinch.
Just kept smiling.
Not smug. Not apologetic.
Just a playful dimpled smile.
Paige exhaled through her nose, shook her head lightly, and turned back toward the court. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t react. Just picked up the ball again and got back into her rhythm.
She had a game to play.
But she was already planning everything she was gonna say after.
═════════════════════
The game was over.
The court was buzzing with postgame handshakes, flashes from phones, and media drifting in with cameras. Paige had played well, but sadly the wings still lost by three.
Paige noticed Azzi was still wearing that damn jersey when she was taking pictures with fans and other people she knew here, including Georgia.
She let it slide. Cause of course she wasn’t gonna throw a fit in public.
And it wasn’t like she was angry about it. It just pissed her off, because staring at your girlfriend, who just had lowkey hard launched your relationship yesterday. Is now wearing another woman’s jersey isn’t really visually appealing, disturbing really.
But now when they were gonna take pictures together with their friend and former teammate Aaliyah, and Azzi still wore that jersey, Paige definitely hit her last nerve.
“Azzi take that off”
“What?” she asked, a grin tugging at her mouth. She knew exactly what Paige meant.
“That jersey.” Paige muttered through a tight jaw, stepping a little closer under her breath. “You’ve been wearing it all night”
“Take it off.”
Azzi looked down, like she needed to remind herself whose name was on her back. As if she didn’t already know. “This?” she asked, all innocent, eyebrows raised like she wasn’t being a menace.
Paige just stared at her. Not amused. Not even blinking.
Azzi’s smirk widened. “P… are you seriously jealous?”
“I’m seriously confused why you’re wearing another woman’s name while standing next to me.”
“Georgia gave it to me.”
“Oh, I saw. I was there, remember? When she dabbed me up like I wasn’t about to watch her claim my girlfriend?”
Aaliyah coughed behind her hand, clearly hearing all of it but pretending to be busy looking elsewhere while she waited for them.
“Okay, but like—” Azzi dragged it out playfully, still holding the jersey by the hem. “Red looks good on me, and I didn’t think it was that deep.”
Paige stepped even closer, voice low as she hovered over Azzi’s ear “It’s that deep.”
Azzi grinned again, too proud now. “You’re possessive.”
“And you’re enjoying this.”
“I really am.”
Paige gave her a tight smile and said, “You gonna take it off or am I doing it for you?”
That made Azzi pause.
She slipped it off with the slowest possible movement, dramatic and smug, folding it over her arm. “Happy?”
Paige leaned in just enough to press her words into Azzi’s ear. “Ecstatic.”
And when they finally posed for the picture with Aaliyah, Paige kept one arm snug around Azzi’s shoulder, with their space little to non-existent and her smile perfectly neutral, but the message was loud and clear.
Azzi was off limits.
little does Azzi know that this playful menace action of hers would backfire.
It was now the next game, both Paige and Azzi were back into long distance since Azzi needed to go back to Connenicut for summer workouts.
It was the tunnel fit that did it.
Paige had been quiet about the jersey thing even when the internet went crazy. But then she pulled up to her next game in a simple white longsleeve, nothing flashy, nothing loud.
Just the number 8 printed on the front.
Just the number.
The internet did the math before Azzi even saw it.
— So Paige wore #8 after Azzi wore Georgia’s jersey. LMAOOO she’s so unserious 💀
— Paige really said ‘two can play this game.’
— I know Azzi is shaking her head seeing her competitive ass white girl
And yeah she did.
Azzi had been scrolling through tiktok between study breaks, half awake in her dorm back in Connecticut, when the photo popped up on her feed.
Paige, tunnel fit. White supreme longsleeve shirt.
8.
No shame.
Azzi blinked, sat up, and immediately sent a text.
Az💗
You’re actually annoying.
Paige.
P💗
What’d I do 😇
Az💗
You know what you did.
The 8? Seriously? 😐
P💗
just a number, chill.
not like i wore it to your game or anything 🤷🏼‍♀️
Azzi didn’t respond for a minute.
Az💗
You’re so competitive i’m sick babe.
P💗
Thanks.
Wear mine again next time. we don’t need more internet drama.
Az💗
You’re annoying 🙄
Paige just heart-reacted to the last message.
P💗
You love me.
Paige locked her phone smiling, like she knew she won, again.
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tojisteddy · 1 day ago
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Private Chef!reader x John Price
and his family loves you. And I mean truly, deeply, loves every fiber of your being.
You’ve been with the family since the two youngest were born. Preparing meals for dinners after football & ballet practice and John and Ellie (his wife) work or when Ellie couldn’t stomach anything but zucchini and chicken when she had the last two. Snacks for tutoring sessions and play dates, family get togethers, tailgates and set aside meals for when the oldest (Maverick, wannabe bad ass) sneaks back in the home after a party at his friends. Providing warm and well thought out home cooked meals at their best and worst days, meals that could make them feel comfort that no one else could provide.
You were a second (or third, after the nanny) mother to the kids. No one could live without you.
And that goes for when John and Ellie were divorcing— you were smack dab in the middle of it.
Was that your expectation? God no.
When John broke the news to you and the nanny, both of you were looking for new jobs entirely. But John, the father who was trying to hold everything together, needed you two more than ever. So with a glance to each other, and the idea of a stable job guiding you, you both stayed.
Ellie, a good woman and mother at heart, but she didn’t want full custody of the kids. She’s pay her child support if she had to, see the kids on the weekends— she was a woman who gave up everything to be the mother John wanted for their kids while he was off in god knows where. It couldn’t last forever, not when she had aspirations to be a top lawyer, it required the same (if not more) sacrifices John made when he left on numerous occasions. She’d be starting her career from where she left off.
It was her dream, and John let her go.
Even if it meant having to separate.
You’d thought it’d be a clean and cut divorce, till Ellie started trying to bribe you. Random gifts and over complimenting, explaining how she could pay you more than John could.
Did you like the free gifts to all expenses paid spa days and the increase in vacation time? Maybe the bribery was working.
Up until it was Ava’s birthday, the second oldest, middle child to the core. 14 and trying.
It was a day of horrifics, the beginning of the day called for terrible weather so people canceled, but the weather was just fine. John tried to call the guests again but to no avail, which led you with shit ton of over prepped food, the whole house loud with 4 other rambunctious kids, and poor Ava ran off.
You were the only one who ran after her.
You and Ava— the girl was your baby. She saw you as a cool big sister, a friend, mentor— the mom she wish she could have. But she wouldn’t say it aloud. She loved her mom, but you were the one person who was always there for her. You knelt down to sit beside her under the large oak tree that stood in their yard, grabbing her hand gently before giving it a squeeze.
“I know what could make you feel better,” you say in a sing song voice, resting your chin on her shoulder.
She sniffs, shaking her head, “Nothing could make anything better! Everyone sucks, the universe hates me.”
“I say, screw the food, screw everyone. Screw the dumb party. We’ll do something better, I’ll make your favorite just like you wanted from the beginning but John made you change. I’ll call a couple of my friends, and we’ll dance to ABBA and Stevie Wonder all night, eat ice cream out the tub. Even do karaoke like you wanted, my friends got a killer machine with all the theatrics.”
She wiped her tears with back of her hands, scuffing.
You wiggle your shoulders into hers, “Come ooon~” you try one more time, falling over her which makes her groan into a giggle. “It’s gonna be fun Ava, just one dance! One little taste of bolognese. Just a little.”
She looks over at you, those big blue eyes shining, just like John’s do, “Just a little.” She mumbles.
And the night went off without a hitch, full of Ava’s favorite, dancing, singing, laughter and mocktails the kids loved to drink. John even danced stupidly like the old man he was, trying to show off his “moves.” He was a goof.
And it makes you think, that’s what you became a personal chef for, the fulfillment. The warm and comfort only you could bring to a family- to this one specifically. Despite the ups and downs. It made you feel full to the brim.
John comes up to you in the kitchen only after he notices you aren’t there. He’s been keeping you in view all night, getting lost in your laughter, your smile, your kindness- everything. This feeling, all the sparks that are suddenly going off, are new. It’s all something he hasn’t felt in years. And he takes your in from the door for a moment, lets his eyes fly all over you in your messy jeans and tight top as you clean up the mess from- well- everything. You’re gorgeous, even though you’re a little tired from the long day. He meets you at the farm house sink, shyly speaks, ears red, falling into step with you, rinsing the dishes that piled up too high. “I can’t thank you enough. For today. For helping Ava and then the party and being here. Even bringing out your own friends. It means a lot to us— to me.”
You give him a smile and a shrug, “You’ve been trying your hardest John, I know. This is just,” you sigh, content, “something I knew I could handle. I don’t mind helping. Plus, you would’ve managed just fine. You’re a good father John.”
“I wouldn’t have.”
“You would’ve.”
“I wouldn’t have, not without you [+].” And there’s such sincerity in his deep voice, in his ocean blue eyes, you don’t even have to look at him to know. His hand manages to find you’re in the soapy water, squeezing it ao you can properly look at him. They’ve got you lost in him. There’s a moment, just a sliver of a moment that makes you want to crash into him, that makes your heart beat a million times faster, that makes everything pause and that it’s just you two in this kitchen, on their property— on earth.
A magnet is pulling at you two, drawing you slowly closer together.
But you hear those ever so familiar quick clicks of high heals, a call of John and your names— back to reality, that makes you duck from around John, water splashing into the floor.
“Did I miss it? Where’s the birthday girl? Where are all the kids at?” Ellie asks out of breath, surveying the space.
You gulp down your feelings, let out a breath, “Everyone canceled. We had a good time nonetheless. She’s outside, singing her heart out.”
She lets out a sigh of relief, dabbing her face to make sure her makeup is intact, setting the large gift bags in her hands on the kitchen island. Her blonde eyebrow raises as she looks between the two of you. You are flustered, looking elsewhere, John on the other hand is tight lipped, irritated.
He missed his chance, he’s been waiting ages on.
“Are you guys okay?”
You quickly nod, John gives a slow one, a fake smile to follow, biting his tongue. You both speak at the same time.
“Just fine.”
“More than okay, love.”
Ellie looks between the two of you one more time, but shrugs, “Okay then. Come back out when you’re done. Party’s not over yet!”
And she’s out the back door and to the patio, there are squeals and giggles from everyone.
Leaving you and John standing in this overly thick tension.
How the hell were you going to stay now?
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a/n: I’m sorry I haven’t been as active. I haven’t been feeling myself. But I was watching a lot of private chef videos and this became the inspo. I hope you like it. This is a one shot so 😋
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pearlfull · 1 day ago
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must be love
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⋆✴︎˚。⋆ SYNOPSIS: Batboys as boyfriends and their habits in a relationship! SFW + NSFW. 18+. 〝 What did you give me to make my heart beat out my chest? 〞 Batboys x Reader. ⋆˚࿔ A/N: Thanks for love on my last post! I TAKE REQUESTS! Sorta rusty, but I've missed writing sm chat
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ᯓ★ DICK GRAYSON.
SFW
DICK GREW UP WITH BRUCE'S OLD WORLD MANNERS AND ALFRED'S TENDERNESS. It would be insulting to both of them if he didn't treat his partner following those examples of devotion.
Always has a hand on you. Thigh when he's driving, drawing circles on the inside with the other on the wheel, the small of your back as you're walking through a crowd to help you guide through the heat of bodies around you both, your hip when he's talking to someone else.
So there's no question when you both are out that you're his. Not because he clings, just because he's so unmistakably in love and he's loud about it. His hand finds yours without thinking, it's second nature to him. He laughs louder when you're happy, arm stays around your waist.
When you're not around? If someone tries their luck, any girl is met with a smile and he shakes his head sweetly, "Someone gorgeous has me."
Another thing about Dick is he shows up. Not just for you, the other people in your life. They're important to you, so they're important to them. He bribes your little brother with action figures and of course he'll drive your sister to soccer practice, and they can hit boba on the way home afterwards. Holds your dog during fireworks. Your roommate has a bad date and he's on the couch with you and gives his two cents from a guy's perspective and wait hey, he thinks Wally's her type?
"They like me, right?" His hair has stray pieces of sawdust from helping your dad fix the garage door, and there's a streak of grease staining his shirt. "I can't have your whole bloodline turning on me if I mess up babe."
He wants to find his way to fit into your world. And vice versa for sure!
Will bring you to the manor, and kiss the inside of your wrist and introduce you to Alfred like you're royalty. "This is (her. him. them.)"
Like that's all the explanation needed.
With the others, he lights up when they ask about you, or when you play cards with Jason and Tim, compliment and study Dami's drawings or make Bruce and Cass laugh.
When you go out with his friends, he'll drape his arm around you and grin when they tease you both.
At his apartment, he presses a kiss softly to your lips after you steal a sip of his beer and Roy will grin at the lovestruck expression on Dick's face before raising his brows at him, "Why don't you ever do that to me?"
Flowers are often. Will deliver them casually, too. Was 4th of July a worthy occasion for them? You don't know but you don't really mind.
NSFW
Munch city. DON'T YELL AT ME I'M RIGHT.
Lives for your pleasure, but there's nothing performative about it, he just gets off to how he can make you feel.
He takes his time, draws it out, and holds your hips down to keep you from squirming. "Where're you going, pretty?"
Literally moans into you, louder if you get louder, looks up at you as if he's seeing the face of God.
"So pretty like this, fuck."
Offers constantly. You'd honestly think he's ovulating. You're drying your hair as you step out the shower, and he's kissing the side of your neck sweetly, and tugging you to his bed murmuring something like, "C'mere. Wanna taste you real quick." It's not quick, you both know, but he's already kissing inside your thighs.
All hands and praise!!
Doesn't rush the after, he's walking you to the bathroom and when you're back he has a wet towel and an iced water with a straw.
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ᯓ★ JASON TODD.
SFW
JASON DOESN'T LOVE LIKE HE WAS BORN INTO IT, BUT RATHER LIKE HE HAD TO LEARN HOW TO DO IT.
Clumsy, then careful!
He's practical, until he's not.
Until you mention wanting to see a local play, and when you get home he's bought tickets to four.
"This one's experimental." His finger points to the pamphlets he got when he drove down to the ticket office. "This one's about war. Feminist period piece. A musical." He gets quieter, and shrugs like it's not a big deal. "Thought we could make a thing of it."
He's practical until he's adopting a kitten with you, no question.
You find her outside your complex in a silver bin, tiny and shaking and definitely sick. He just sighs and peels off his jacket to wrap it up as you kiss his cheek. "Guess we're cat people now."
You find him on the couch with the cat on his chest and he's reading Wuthering Heights lowly to her. He doesn't look up, just rolls his eyes.
"Don't start, [Name.] She likes the voices."
He doesn't say I love you early. But he definitely acts like it. He'll pull you behind him when you cross the street quickly, text you "home safe?" before you've even made it to your driveway.
Observant would be putting it lightly. Your favorite shampoo and conditioner is in his shower and he keeps makeup wipes and guesses your lipgloss shade to have an extra in his pocket in case you misplace it.
Checks your apartment locks, and replaces them, "Sweetheart, these deadbolts were shit."
Learns all your favorite recipes.
He learns how you like your eggs how you want the edges of your sandwiches.
"You feed the people you love, right?" A beat. "And I love you."
Your favorite childhood meal. How your mom made it after your first breakup, a week later the aroma is filling your apartment, and he has sauce on his cheek and he's trying not to grin.
He loves to cook with you too! Jason'll open the jars, hold your hips while you're focused on stirring.
Annotates your favorite books. Watches your favorite movies. Without complaint. He wants to know you. And initially it was scary, but you're healing parts of him he didn't know were hurt, and he tries to do the same.
Tipsy Jason? The roughness practically melts out of him.
He drinks slow till you arrive, and when you do, he lights up and Roy laughs and shakes his head as Jay pulls you into his lap with his drink still in hand, kissing your shoulder.
You tease him for being clingy, but the next he's murmuring into your hair, "Don't get how someone like you gets to be with me."
NSFW
Needs to see your eyes, and hear you fall apart because of him.
"C'mon, sweetheart. Wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you."
Whines when you moan his name, and ruts harder when you beg.
If you try and stay quiet, he slows down and looks at you like he's got every bit of time on his hands. "Say it again, want that voice, baby."
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ᯓ★ TIM DRAKE.
SFW
DESPITE EVERYTHING, TIM IS CONSISTENT! He always makes time for you, and doesn't brag about it, doesn't rearrange his schedule in front of you.
"I'll be in your neighborhood in ten minutes." You raise your voice to protest, but he's already lacing up his shoes.
Spoiled would be an understatement, but to Tim? It's bare minimum, don't even think twice about it.
He'll subtly match outfits with you. Red tie, to compliment your gloss. Soft grey if you choose blue. Enough so when pap photos come out later, you'll notice.
"You do that on purpose?"
"We look good."
Places for dates are quiet when you go out: old jazz bars, private late night planetarium tours.
When he picks you up, the smoke curls in the air like the music and he's gotten you the booth in the corner next to the drums.
You also go to the aquarium, the whole place is closed to the public. You swing his hand as it's laced into yours, eyes glittering and you can tell he's trying not to laugh at your excitement. “How did you manage this?”
He just shrugs, and kisses your cheek. “I had a favor owed. Small bribe. You said you used to come here with your mom.”
You almost melt into the floor.
He loves your perfume! In a really sweet way.
Will steal your scarf in the winter to wear to work. Buries his face into your shoulder when he hugs you.
Eventually purchases a travel size of your signature scent for himself to help remind him of home when he's away.
He keeps a photo of you in his wallet, tucked behind his ID. Steph teases him for it, claims he acts like he's a soldier at war carrying a picture of his wife.
It happens on accident that you find it, you're sitting on your couch on a Sunday, your legs draped across his lap, he's rifling through it to find a gift card that has thirty more bucks on it. He flips through it, one hand on your waist, thumb tracing lazy circles over your hip bone.
There's a flash of photo paper and you blink. "Go back."
He raises his brows, freezing, "What?"
You pluck it from his hands, thumbing it through yourself and there it is. A tiny picture of you. He must've printed it himself, but you remember when it was taken. You, with a matcha latte and a goofy grin pointing to a billboard behind you with Tim's face on it.
You laugh, but tuck it back in. "You keep this in your wallet?"
"Yeah." His voice is soft, but his eyes crinkle with amusement.
"Why?"
"Because it's the one I always liked. Makes me laugh. You look pretty and like soft. And mine."
You stare at him a moment too long, and he rolls his eyes, "Okay, I sound insane."
"Nope."
Also nights in?? A great break for Tim. He gets overwhelmed easily and when he comes home he wants something real and sometimes that's you playing Mario Kart on his floor in his pajama bottoms.
Or decorating cookies shaped like lopsided bats.
You let him put his armor down, literally and figuratively.
NSFW
He works from beneath you!!! Controlled and deep thrusts, eyes locked on yours and studying the way your chin tilts and nose scrunches when he hits the right spot.
His hands are everywhere, but your hips are his favorite, rolling them in slow circles.
"That's it," "Just like that, fuck."
He also loves seeing you completely bent over sorry. Your back arched, legs shaking and your winded breath every time he pushes it in deeper.
Kissing your shoulder. Groaning against your back, he'll make you look at him
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pastelalleycat · 2 hours ago
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For folks who dislike kids- I know, firsthand, that they can be overwhelming to watch. I work in a daycare, and I've seen them refuse to listen, and pinch their friends, and generally do some incredibly stupid stuff. But they're still infinitely more valuable to society than a pedophile will ever be.
And we need to love and protect kids more than we hate pedophilles.
Learning how to navigate a big and often scary world is hard when you're literally, what, two years old? Kids aren't always going to make the best choices, and that's expected and okay. It's my job as a trusted adult figure to help them learn how to make better choices, and sometimes what that better choice even is.
Pedophiles don't care what the better choice is. They're adults, they've been taught far better, and they're still making the worst choice possible. It's not just about attraction, it's about power. Because kids are so young and still learning a lot, they often don't have the physical strength to escape the abuse nor the vocabulary to explain what happened to them after the fact. Tragically, many child victims may not even know what happened to them WAS abuse.
That's why we need to teach children what boundaries are, and show up for them if they are abused. This kind of stuff saves lives.
(It should be noted that not all people who are attracted to minors want to follow through with it. Also, POCD [pedophile OCD], which causes not-factual-but-very-intrusive thoughts of being attracted to kids, can be extremely distressing. There should be therapy and help available for almost ANYONE who requests it, including those with harmful paraphilias or who struggle with anxiety about harmful paraphilias. This is part of the solution too.)
Speaking as a survivor of child sex abuse: the world would be a lot better if yall spent less time talking about the ways in which pedophiles should be punished and more time supporting survivors and preventing abuse
I get it, punishment can feel cathartic. I’ve certainly spent time imagining all the ways in which my own abuser might be punished. But ultimately, him dying, or being jailed, or publicly shamed, isn’t actually going to help me nor will it stop more kids from getting hurt in the future.
I don’t want more prisoners. I want free therapy with trauma informed counselors. I want better sex education for young children that teaches them about consent and body autonomy. And I want a society in which I can openly discuss my trauma, or at least as openly as yall discuss the evils of pedophiles
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random-remzy · 3 days ago
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I think one of my favorite things about K-Pop Demon Hunters is the protrayal of women.
like-
Yeah! Girls can absoLUTELY look like this-
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But also! Like this-
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yes their makeup can be bold and perfect!
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but also- They don't always wear it!
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Yes they're dainty and delicate.
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But they can be bold and messy!
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yes they kan like and dislike people based on silly things!
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But also form genuine connections based on important boundaries.
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Yes they can be cute and strong and pretty.
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But they can be weird, and sad and angry.
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Yes they're talented
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But they also put in so much effort
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Yes. They know what they're worth.
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But they're also critical of themselves.
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Yes. They can wear something fancy and bold. And do something crazy and tell the world what they do
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And they can wear casual clothes, and eat food at a back alley restaurant with their best friends.
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yes they work hard!
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And yes! They can be lazy!
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And they can wear whatever they want and STILL look flawless!
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Look-
The point is
I love girls
And I love these girls
Because these girls are probably the most realistic fictional girls I've ever seen. And they're literal profession is one of the most unrealistic ones in the wORLD!
I love this movie so much and I am so eternally grateful that people are learning and loving girls!
Because all of these are are what real girls look like. And how real girls act, sure its unrealistic in the sense that its fictional, but the context and ideas are there. Girls ar girls.
Okay, They're funky and weird and funny and gorgeous and angry and loud and sad and strong and special, and talented, and adorable and hardwroking and lazy and just soooo Awesome!
(I stand by all of this but also i just wanted to post screencaps of the girls cause' i love them and they're so cool and they're such amazing characters and they're so well written and 90 minutes of screentime was not NEARLy enough for me i need more-)
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icewindandboringhorror · 3 months ago
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(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)
#polls#tumblr polls#For me I think the top ones would be the House. The Money. or the Friend Group. But I ultimately might would go for the house#JUST becuase it would be my Dream House which means it would already meet mostly all of my specifications#and what I might be looking for. which would save a lot of time searching or customizing/rennovating.#Also because I could use that as a way to leave the US lol.. like .. if I get to choose my dream location.. couldnt I just choose some othe#country?? But I wonder how that works. Can you legally 100% have full ownership of a property in a country yet not be a citizen of that#country?? Would you show up and be like 'erm.. i own this house.. so i shall now live in it' and theyd be like 'uh no. you cant live here#despite owning the house. leave.' ??#So I think the initial process of 1. scraping together funds to actually MOVE myself and my most valuable belongings physically#TO another country. and 2. figuring out how to STAY in that country . might end up being difficult.. BUT. if I could just work that#part of things out then.. dream house?? security for once in my life?? stability?? :0#Though the $1mil is enticing it's also like.. I feel .. with the way housing prices are now... that's not much???#it's a lot I guess if you plan on like.. investing half the money and staying in an apartment for 5 years while you grow your wealth#or something. but if you're a 'I Need Stability NOW' ready to settle down person who would be most interested in owning a property rather#than nice clothes or a car or whatever other investments you could make then.. eh..?? It seems like unless you're okay with living in#a small town or kind of far away from the city - even some SMALL houses in majorly populated areas in the US will be like#$600.000 - $900.000 or something. like that would be MOST of my money. Which I know you could just pay partially and make#payments on it but idk.. in the option of just outright owning the house it seems like it'd end up being cheaper.#Plus I would want to own it fully asap because I'd be afraid of losing it somehow otherwise. like it being taken for medical bills or#something. which I thought was supposed to be - not IMPOSSIBLE - slightly more complicated legally if you actually have#paid off the house in full. I guess the issue then would be utilities and property tax and such. But I feel like thats overcome-able??#Like I could just stipulate that my Dream House has a little furnished addition or something and then find someone#with money and be like 'Look you can live in this extremely nice area with amazing ameneties and updated everything and ALL you have#to do is give me money to cover the utilities and property tax.'' or something like that. Like the little furnished addition is nicer#than the actual house. they have their own pool and spa and movie room or something and Ill also cook all their meals for them#or whatever (how luxurious it would be depeneds on how high the property tax actually is/how much I would need to entice them into#why it's a good deal for them to pay it for me lol). idk... something like that.. ANYWAY#I asked a few people I know though and one of them answered they'd rather have a romantic partner. the other one said they'd like#to be able to choose someone to die lol.. So I'm curious what people value the most
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lunar-years · 6 months ago
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