#continuous fire trigger

[sw5w]

Battle Droid Hit

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:49:52

[loneywolfy]

She's finally done!! Decided to test out a new shading style and I really enjoyed the process. Not my most proudest background either but it does the job

[monster-noises]

Ahahahahaaha love love Love getting Medical Anxiety triggered by over hearing something at work and fucking Finally feeling normal by the end of the work day only to come home and Remember It

Best time

Good vibes

My insides are vibrating at a daaaaangerous frequency and it's Not Helping

[blank-potato]

need that

Pairing: John Walker x Reader

Summary:

You watched as he stood at the sink, razor in hand, slowly dragging it across his jawline with practised ease. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned in closer to the mirror. Thank goodness for inhibitions, otherwise you’d be going crazy and trying to pounce on him. He caught your eyes in the mirror and gave a small smirk. “You alright there?” You blinked, realising you’d been staring. Or You think everything he does is hot, and eventually he takes notice.

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, implied smut, confessions, pining, yearning, all hours are yearning hours for reader

WC: 2.3K

A/N: Thank you @fire-joestar for this request and idea! I have another one for Bob with the same concept here. Hope you all enjoy it!

☆☆☆

You wanted John Walker so bad that it was becoming a problem. Friends weren’t supposed to be crazy in love with other friends, but here you were, heart racing every time he so much as looked your way.

It came to the point where he’d be standing still, and you’d just be absolutely losing your mind. The way his jaw clenched when he was focused, how his biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirts, it was enough to short-circuit your brain.

Like when he caught you staring and started talking to you about his guns, “This one is pretty good for close-quarters. Lightweight, easy trigger…”

You nod along and pretend to pay attention, but it’s hot the way he’d handle them, all casual and confident. The way his fingers curled around the grip, the intensity in his eyes when he explained the mechanics, you’d transform into a gun right now if you could, just for the chance to be held like that.

“You still with me?” John asks, raising an eyebrow and giving you that crooked half-smile that never failed to melt your brain.

You nod, maybe a little too eagerly, even though he’d lost you as soon as you saw the veins in his hand flex around the barrel. You’re not even sure what he’s talking about anymore. Tactical specs? Firing range? Who cares. 

"Cool," he says, and goes right back to talking shop, completely unaware that you're about three seconds away from combusting.

It was an everyday occurrence. But during training, it was something else entirely. That’s when things really test your self-control.

Flipping you over like you weighed nothing during sparring sessions, he was strong and agile, all precision and power wrapped in that unfairly good-looking package. You found yourself on the mat more often than not, too distracted to fight properly. 

Not to mention listening to him talk, helping direct you on how to angle your arms, how to keep your balance and improve your fighting stance. It was so distracting the way he’d give directions, voice low and focused.

“Right foot here, and I want you to put all your weight behind it when you punch,” he’d say, tapping the mat lightly where he wanted your foot to go.

“Alright,” you murmur, trying not to sound like you're dying inside, and you try again, not quite doing as he instructed. He observes you for a moment, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. 

“Can I?” he asks, hands hovering near your hips, asking for permission, like you wouldn’t let him do pretty much anything. 

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly.

He moves your hips into place with a firm, steady grip that has no business being that gentle. “Now,” he continues, voice closer now, “shift forward and twist your hips, it has to be all one movement.”

He’d basically been manhandling you, guiding your arms, adjusting your hips until you were exactly where he wanted you. But still, he was gentle and patient, never getting frustrated, always calm, always in control.

And it was so unbelievably hot.

You could only imagine where else those firm instructions and steady hands would come in handy. The way he said, "twist your hips"? Yeah, you were already spiralling.

“I’ve lost you again,” John says, catching the faraway, glazed-over look on your face, one brow raised.

“No, no, I’m… I’m here,” you stammer, blinking hard and trying to pull yourself back into the moment, even though your brain had very much left the building five minutes ago. He smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. And you’re not sure if that’s better or worse.

But you’re hopeless whether or not he’s interacting with you or not. Watching him work out in any capacity was a dangerous game. You were at risk of keeling over and dying on the spot every single time.

Watching him run on the treadmill, sweat glistening on his skin, shirt clinging to every sculpted line of muscle. Or when he boxed, the way his muscles rippled with every jab, every hook, every fluid, powerful movement. You were obsessed.

You put your head in your hands for a second, trying to cool down your spiralling thoughts, then looked back up at him.

He turned to you just then, wiping sweat from his neck with a towel, chest heaving slightly from exertion, and asked, “Did you need something?”

“N-nope,” You stutter out as you walk backwards out of the room, bumping into multiple walls, your eyes not once leaving his shirtless body. 

Though you liked the little things too.

He offers to drive you wherever you need to go, because, well, after a few incidents of reckless driving, your license had been suspended.

In your defence, it was a matter of life and death. Several times. But try explaining that you were being hunted by sword-wielding assassins and not getting laughed out of the room. 

You climb into the passenger seat, trying not to feel awkward about it. 

“Thanks…” You mumble as you buckle your seatbelt. He glances over at you, mouth tugging into a faint smirk. “You’re lucky I like you,” he says, teasing just enough to make your chest flutter.

He’s quiet at first, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift. The windows are down, wind in his hair, sun in his eyes. Then once you reach your destination, he does the thing. 

The thing where he puts his arm around the back of your seat as he reverses, his jawline sharp in the golden wash of afternoon light, the clean, strong line of his neck exposed beneath the collar of his shirt.

You don’t know why it has you holding your breath, but it does. Maybe it’s the casual way he does it, like he’s done it a hundred times. Or the fact that he’s so in control and completely unaware of how stupidly attractive what he’s doing is.

You’re gawking, and you know you’re gawking, but you’re only human. Gawking was your speciality, and you’re always putting yourself in situations to do it. 

Like when he’d be on cooking duty and you’d jump at the opportunity to be his unofficial sous-chef, just to be near him. You’re currently struggling with this godforsaken onion. Eyes watering, grip awkward, and the knife refusing to cooperate.

“I can do that for you,” John offers gently, taking the onion from your hands with that same ease he handled everything. “The blade’s dull, that’s why you’re having such a hard time…”

You nod, blinking away the sting in your eyes as you watch him grab the knife-sharpening rod. He starts working the blade against it with practised movements.

John Walker is an acts of service king; you noticed it early on. One time, you had barely even acknowledged that you were thirsty. There was no glass of water in front of you, you barely even sighed, but before you could even stand, John had quietly placed one in your hand without a word. 

Or when you fell asleep on the couch, and felt the weight of a blanket being placed on top of you, the warm, familiar scent of his cologne letting you know it was him. You didn’t even have to open your eyes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t wake you.

Just made sure you were comfortable and tucked the blanket around your shoulders. He could be loud, commanding, the centre of attention when he needed to be, but moments like that reminded you of how soft he could be when no one was looking.

You snap out of the memory, focusing back on him as he now dices the onion with mechanical precision, the knife gliding like it was an extension of his hand.

“See? Easy when your tools actually work,” he says with a half-smile, glancing your way.

A few days later, you were searching for him to get some insight on a mission you’d all be heading out on later that day.

You try not to swoon. Or stare. Or let him see how completely ridiculous it is that someone chopping onions could look that good.

But honestly? It’s a losing battle.

“John?” you called out from outside his door, your knuckles tapping lightly.

“Come in!” he called back casually.

You step inside. His room was as clean and precise as you’d expect. Neatly made bed, organised, everything in its place. You glance around, not seeing him at first, but the moment you step into the bathroom, your soul threatens to leave your body. 

You’d seen him shirtless often enough that you should be used to it by now, but nope. Especially not like this. The room was steamy from the shower, and he stood there with only a towel slung low around his hips, v-line in full view, chest gleaming slightly in the light.

You watched as he stood at the sink, razor in hand, slowly dragging it across his jawline with practised ease. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned in closer to the mirror.

Thank goodness for inhibitions, otherwise you’d be going crazy and trying to pounce on him.

He caught your eyes in the mirror and gave a small smirk. “You alright there?”

You blinked, realising you’d been staring.

“Yeah,” you croaked. “Yeah, I… just came to ask about the mission.”

He turned slightly, not even trying to cover up. “Sure. Just give me a second to finish up. Unless you’re in a rush?”

You shook your head fast. “No rush. I can wait.”

So you stay there, doing your best to focus as he continues to shave.

You start going over the mission details to distract yourself, letting him know the objectives, listening to his responses, but it’s nearly impossible. 

Thankfully, the next, next mission, you sat out with Bob, spending the day chilling and playing Mario Kart with him. It was easy and a perfect distraction from the John problem, as you started dubbing it. Until the rest of the team walked back in.

They looked rough. Bruised, dirty, clearly fresh off a firefight. John was at the front, jaw tight, a few shallow cuts on his arms and a particularly nasty one near his temple that definitely needed attention, yet he still somehow looked unfairly good.

You barely had time to blink before his eyes found yours. Then he was moving, across the room, straight to where you were still curled up on the couch.

Without a word, he jerked his head toward the hallway. “We need to talk.”

You blinked, glancing at the others like someone might tell you what the hell was happening, but no one seemed surprised. With a sigh, you stood and followed him down the hall to a quiet, empty corner. Why this was his number one priority after a mission was beyond you.

“We do?” you asked, arms crossing defensively.

“You’ve been looking at me weird for a while now,” he said, tone unreadable but eyes locked on yours.

You froze. “What?”

He stepped a little closer. “You have. In the kitchen. In the gym. In my car. You stare.”

Your mouth opened but closed just as fast. How on earth would you rebut any of his claims? You doubt you had been subtle in the slightest; if someone made a compilation of you staring at John, they’d have enough footage to make a movie. 

“You’re imagining things,” you said, way too quickly.

He tilted his head, clearly not buying it. “Am I?”

You step back, but your back hits the wall, the space between the two of you impossibly small.

“You like me, don’t you?”

Hearing that you’re sure it’s over for you. You stand there waiting for the ground to swallow you whole. You look down, unable to meet his eyes, but then his fingers are under your chin, tipping your head up gently.

“It’s okay if you do,” he says, a teasing glint in his eye. “I like me too.”

You let out a breathy laugh and swat at his chest playfully. “Asshole…”

He laughs with you, but soon his expression softens, the teasing giving way to something deeper.

“I like you too,” he says quietly.

The words hit like fireworks going off in your chest. You mean that?” You ask to which John answers genuinely, “Yeah, I do.”

“Do you…” You start, heart racing, “Do you want to show me how much you like me?” you ask, voice dropping, the boldness rising in your chest before you can second-guess it.

He smirks at you, then he pulls you in, his hands cupping your face like you’re something fragile and precious. His lips meet yours gently, and you melt as you hold onto his arms. Without them, you’d be a puddle on the floor. The kiss slowly deepens, becoming more passionate, more desperate. Your fingers curl in his hair, pulling him closer like it’s instinct. He groans softly at the touch, one hand slipping from your cheek to your waist, then he slots his knee between your legs and…

“No, no, no. Not outside my room,” Yelena interrupts with a sigh, “Take that somewhere private.”

Alexei is grinning like a proud dad, arms folded, nodding approvingly. Bucky is concerned about how quickly you guys started making out against the wall.

Ava just throws up her hands in relief, muttering, “Finally,” under her breath, clearly thrilled that she no longer has to witness you making heart eyes at John during every single meal, briefing, and training session.

And Bob? Bob’s smiling, warm and supportive, genuinely happy for you both… though mildly overwhelmed, like he just walked into something he isn’t entirely sure how to exit.

John chuckles, slipping his hand into yours. “Well… you heard the lady.”

You groan into your hands, face burning.

Yelena’s already walking away, calling over her shoulder, “I’m ordering pizza for dinner. If you two are going to be gross again, do it behind a closed door.”

He pulls you towards his room, and the second you get inside, you shove him onto his bed, trying to peel his suit off. 

“Eager, aren’t you?” John chuckles. 

“Shut up.”

Masterlist

[realcube]

bnha men as your boss

characters ♡ bakugo, iida & aizawa

tws / tags ♡ NSFW , MINORS DNI. sex, power dynamics, vaginal. specific triggers are before each character.

BAKUGO

tw : vaginal , degradation.

♡ you have to give him credit where credit is due: he is very upfront about his intentions, even before you get hired for the job

♡ he lets you know during the interview process that he is looking a for a personal assistant to not only do menial paperwork and make coffee, but to also attend to his personal needs. and that if you're not up for that, you can find another job.

♡ but you only thought of that as another perk , so you went ahead with it

♡ and like he said, a lot of your duties during the daytime were ordinary and banal: running errands, scheduling appointments and managing his calendar.

♡ but the night is when things would heat up

♡ and perhaps some of the tension and passion from the after-hours affair would still be lingering between you two come the morning, but you tried to brush it off the best you could and act normal so bakugo's co-workers wouldn't get suspicious

♡ although, they were all starting to get a feeling that something was going on between you. and their suspicions were only furthered when you came rushing into a meeting with bakugo's coffee and accidentally spilled it all over him. and instead of yelling at you or cursing you out, he just sighed and left the room to clean himself up.

♡ baring in mind, this is the same man who fired a past PA for stepping on his shoe.

♡ but really, the reason he didn't lash out on you in front of everyone else in the meeting, was because he knew he would get to do it later..

---------------------------

he has you bend over his office desk, ass up and bare while he rams into your leaking pussy. one hand is tangled in your hair to keep your face pressed crudely against the smooth surface, while the other is free to imflict hot smack against your ass. coming down and causing a surge of pain to race through you, as he leaves a searing handprint on your supple skin.

"what the fuck.." he grits through his teeth, his harsh pace unwavering, "was that?"

you groan against the desk, your whole body shakes with each fierce thrust into your tight pussy, creating lewd slapping noises. " 'm sorry.. katsu— ah! " you're cut off as he lands another rough slap against your ass, gripping the flesh in his scolding hand afterwards.

"you're gunna be fuckin' sorry." he groans, entranced by the way your walls grip onto him in reaction to the impact. continuing to plough into you at an absurd rate, his girthy cock splitting you right open, and causing your pussy to leak all over him. "let's see if your still such a clutz after i'm done with this dumb pussy." he spits down at you, rubbing the fluid against your folds for a disgusting mixture of liquids.

"gunna use it til you can't walk." he slaps both cheeks this time consecutively, gaining two identical yelps from you, at which he chuckles lowly between thrusts. " 'ts all your good for anyway."

IIDA

tw : praise

♡ very much a gentleman

♡ despite the fact he feels a certain way about you , he would do his best to suppress his feelings and avoid acting on them as he knows he's your boss and he'd hate to make you uncomfortable

♡ but even though he tries his best to treat you the same as everyone else.. pretty much anyone, including yourself, can pick up on the fact he likes you

♡ it's made obvious by the way he gravitates towards talking to you first thing in the mornings, and how even the most banal conversation between the two of you is enough to put a cheesy grin on his face and start his day off well

♡ or the way he gives you the lightest workload out of all his other sidekicks and employees

♡ or how he praises you for doing even the most minor accomplishments or carrying out the most straight-forward duties. you once did 10 minutes of overtime and the next day he gushed to you about your outstanding work ethic for like half an hour and continued to rave about you to everyone else, as though you were a star worker

♡ and you just can't help but find all of this quite endearing. and if you were being honest, he was quite attractive too. the way he'd flash you a cute smile and you'd get a whiff of his strong, musky cologne whenever he'd walk by you in the hallway was enough to make your head spin — you really couldn't get enough of him.

♡ which is why you said yes when he eventually asked you out to dinner

--------------------------

"such a good girl.." he groans against your skin, peppering soft kisses down your neck and collarbone, while you're stood with your back pressed flush against his foyer wall. the tension between you two was too thick, you couldn't wait until you made it to his bedroom before starting.

his hand delicately traces your curves as his lips make their way down your chest, nibbling at your clothed nipple before halting. casting his crimson red eyes up to meet your own, "now, do you promise not to tell anyone else at work about this, sweetheart?" he mutters, lips inches away from yours, as his hot breath teases you.

"why not?" you squeak as his hand roams under your dress and his strong palm grinds against your needy clit.

he almost chuckles at your innocent question, "it's not very professional what we're doing together." he clarifies, using his fingers to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose, while the fingers of his other hand continue to explore between your thighs, and gently rub against your heat through your soaking panties. "but i really don't want this to end, do you?"

your lip quivers and you shake your head, "no.." you say breathily, capturing his hand between your legs, "i need you." you whine out for more, as he was giving you just enough to leave you desperate.

"i need you too, angel."

AIZAWA

tw : thigh riding, implied age gap.

♡ very indifferent; king of (pretending to be) nonchalant

♡ they'd likely give him a teaching aid for the betterment of the class' academic performances or something like that, and he'd be really opposed to the idea because he thinks he can run the class just fine on his own, like he has been for years now

♡ but he'd slowly but surely come around on the idea of having a teaching aid, not only because it gives him more time to sleep instead of working, but also because you are his aid and he can't be mad at the fact he gets to spend time with you

♡ the two of you have undeniable chemistry straight off the bat, but you do your best to hide it in front of the students and other teachers

♡ but it's definitely there.. and it doesn't take long for the chemistry to manifest in your after-hours discussions

♡ there is probably a little bit of age gap going on in your relationship , but nothing too drastic. you're just the new, barely experienced aid looking to gain wisdom off aizawa, so you spend the majority of your shift swooning over him, trying to get him to teach you stuff and show him all the resources you've made in an attempt to impress him

♡ meanwhile he's just straight-faced the whole time, pretending to be unamused.. even though, on the inside he is quite charmed by you and thinks you're just the sweetest

♡ maybe, if you're extremely observant, you'll see him crack the tiniest smile inbetween sips of his coffee, while you are enthusing to him about your new lesson plans

---------------------------

he's sat at his desk in his private office after-hours, with papers scattered all over it. in one hand is his red pen which he is using to grade papers, and in the other is your waist. you are straddling his thigh, with your arms draped lazily around his shoulders and your nose buried into the crook of his neck.

feeling the subtle flex of his muslces against your already sopping cunt caused you to groan into his neck. you had worn a dress today with no tights so your clothed pussy was sat directly on the harsh material of his jeans, but you wanted to experience every single ounce of satisfaction. hence, you pulled your panties to the side and pressed your bare cunt against his thigh, whining like a whore into the emptiness of his office.

though he didn't pay you any mind, and was fixated on his papers. which somehow made the situation even hotter. soon, you began to grind against his leg, sliding yourself back and forth, allowing the fricition between your sensitive cunt and the rough denim to coarse through you. pressing your tender clit down against him repeatedly, and moaning his name lewdly like he was the one responsible for your worlds of satisfaction. which he partially was, even though he put no effort into it. he wouldn't even spare you a glance when you were screaming out for him.

it was a while before you were able to make yourself come undone all over his leg, but it was all so worth it. one of the most cathardic climaxes of your life. you were panting heavily and completely out of breath, laying your tired body against his for a few minutes, until he told you to sit upright.

his hand wandered down to your cunt, and even the fleeting brush of his fingers against your heat was enough to make you whine lowly. but really he was trying to established how wet you were, and of course when he pulled his fingers away, they were drenched with your juices. "hm," he grumbles, exmaning his hand, "look at this mess. who is going to clean this up, dear?"

argh sorry this is short i was gonna write another character but idk who......

[wilwheaton]

There have always been a few clear break points, rubicon thresholds in the Trump autocracy storyline where the entire legitimacy of the state and the freedom of American citizens could go sideways very, very fast. This has always been one of the most obvious ones. There’s no need here for the Guard. The irritant is the wildly inflammatory raids by militarized ICE squads. But even assuming those continue the Guard still isn’t necessary. The President has triggered this crisis and is now using it to exercise military authority within a state against the wishes of the state’s civilian elected leaders – Mayor, Governor, congressional representatives, etc. This is 100% Trump. He’s created the situation and now he’s exploiting it.

Breaking Out of Los Angeles

You will hear shitler’s thugs saying this protest is a riot. That is a massive fucking lie.

I lived here in 1992. I was in East LA when the first buildings were set on fire. I saw it all firsthand. THAT was a riot.

This is American citizens exercising their rights to protest. This is Americans rightly standing up to masked thugs who are attempting to kidnap their neighbors.

Don’t believe the maga lies. There is no riot. There is no insurrection (they’re thinking of January 6). 

[thelikesofus]

Buddie Fic Recs

Welcome to another 9-1-1 Hiatus! Here is Buddie Rec List Number 8 to keep you all fed during the break. I’ve been compiling these fics for a whileee, so this is going to be kind of long. Find my other Buddie Rec Lists HERE REMINDER TO CHECK THE TAGS AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

i slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car by @crazygirleddie | T | 4k

Buck gets sloppy drunk with Hen and decides this is the perfect time to go to Eddie and tell him he loves him. This fic is so wholesome and hilarious, and I love the way the author writes Buck and Eddie in this. 

you will get a sentimental feeling when you hear voices singin by @sergeantchenford | T | 2k

A short and sweet fic where Buck mopes about Eddie moving to El Paso, has a conversation with Bobby, and goes to a charity event. I think we all need some Bobby and Buck interactions right now, and obviously, Eddie isn’t leaving, and Chris is coming home!

my heart wants to come home by @sergeantchenford | T | 5.8k

Another fic by the very talented Jules, but this one is about Buck and Eddie catnapping an old lady's cat and talking about dying alone. Very sweet ending <3

The Bunkroom Fic by exvichan | T | 11k

This is the bunk room bottle fic we deserve! Incredible, absolutely amazing fic! 

emails i can't send by @drmellking | T | 5.9k

Another wonderful fic by my beloved friend April <3 Buck leaves his email account open on his laptop while looking after Jee, and she accidentally presses send on all the emails Buck wrote but never meant for Eddie to see. 

(we tried) we said we'd keep in touch by @chronicowboy | T | 6.8k

With Eddie in El Paso, Buck isn’t feeling the Christmas spirit this year, so he agrees to cover someone else’s shift rather than go to the FireFam Christmas party. Eddie has other plans. And I am rocking in a corner and crying over how perfect and cozy this fic is, literally all the feels xx

Songbird by @colonoscopys | E | 71k

Country Singer Eddie AU that is so horrendously heartbreakingly horrifically incredible. My heart was literally in my throat the whole time, and honestl,y this fic is so beautiful, you just have to read it!

Snickerdoodles of Longing by @elvensorceress | E | 52k

Would this really be a Meegs rec list without a Jenwyn fic?? This is the Eddie moves to Texas fic we all deserved as he makes the decision to leave and then slowly unravels as he realizes what he really wants and what he's losing. There’s also a part two of this that I have yet to read, but I can guarantee it will also be incredible because everything Jenwyn writes is just *chefs kiss*. 

A Place For You, Next to Me by @spotsandsocks | M | 23k

I have very talented mutuals, okay, so here’s a beautiful fic from the wonderful Spotty. Buck decides to do something special for Eddie’s birthday, but his plans are about to be thwarted because oh my goodness THERE’S ONLY ONE BED *cheers and screams from the fandom* 

Five Years by aubrey_writes | M | 8k

Buck gets blipped. Eddie's left behind. A love story told through what Eddie did in his absence. 

A Hole in the World by @thatdisasterauthor | T | 61k 

Buck tries to help someone having what he thinks is a medical emergency while he’s at the grocery store, but his kindness is taken for granted when he is KIDNAPPED AND TAKEN CAPTIVE IN A DOOMSDAY BUNKER. This fic had me on the edge of my seat the whole way through, it is such an incredibly captivating read!

Fears and Assurances in Equal Measure by @thatdisasterauthor | M | 15k

It should've been a simple call. But when the "small fire in an apartment kitchen" turns into a collapse that traps Eddie as the fire continues to burn, Buck is forced to make an impossible choice to save the man he loves. The emotional and physical hurt/comfort in this is to die for <3

it hit me in the kitchen by @bugsongs | G | 13k

Eddie leaves for Texas, and everybody copes with food in one way or another. There’s so much good Eddie and Christopher communication in this fic, it really healed me. 

forever is the sweetest con by @becausebuckley | E | 37k

Buck is invited to a family reunion and realises that there's a good chunk of money waiting for him. There’s one issue, though: he has to be married to claim it, and right now, he’s painfully single. It’s a good thing he has such a great best friend in eddie, right? MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE! EVERYONE LIKES THAT!

like a river runs by @nymika-arts | T | 56k

Buck and Maddie’s flight goes missing, and they are presumed dead. Five years later, their flight lands unscathed, but the world has moved on without them. This fic is so heartbreaking. I had my heart in my throat the whole time, but it is also so beautiful. 

a straight guy and an ally walk into a bar… by @songbvrd | M | 23k

After Buck gets dumped, he remembers he agreed to go to Abby's wedding with a date. Eddie steps up and pretends to be his boyfriend. All hell breaks loose.

Batting a Buck & Change by @cal-daisies-and-briars | T | 15k

Eddie and Chim embark on a “Dad’s night out” to watch baseball at a sports bar, and after a few too many, Eddie accidentally lets his feelings for Buck slip. EddieChim Bestism my beloved. Honestly, this fic is so much fun, and I am obsessed with all of it!

In a Moment of Clarity by @thekristen999 | T | 14k

As the jeep rounded a sharp bend, its tires suddenly lost traction, sending it careening off the winding road's edge. THE CRASH FIC! SO SO GOOD! Hurt Buck and Hurt Eddie, what more could you want? Delicious.

Exhibit B by @cal-daisies-and-briars | T | 10k

Seven years in the future, an adult Christopher has a chance to see his grandparents - and subsequently, his father - in a new light, on a family trip to El Paso. Oh, this fic is so good! A very much needed reflection on Eddie’s relationship with his parents, and done through Christopher’s eyes, this fic really hits you in the solar plexus in the best way possible. 

in pursuit of good health by @bisexualbellamyblake | M | 6.7k

I am a sucker for tactile idiots-to-lovers and so when I find a fic about Buck and Eddie ‘platonically kissing for the health benefits’ you best believe I devoured it!

down every road by @young-waverer | T | 4.5k

Buck realizes he needs to be with Eddie and Chris. Unfortunately for the miles on his truck, Eddie and Chris had the same idea. THIS is what happens when idiots in love who cannot commniucate try to surprise eachother but share the same braincell. 

seeing him in a new light by @tizniz | G | 1.2k

Eddie Diaz is all of us fawning over how Buck is Big and Large and BIG.

featherlight by @coldbam | G | 7k

Eddie takes up a new hobby while in Texas, identifying the birds that visit his new porch and realizes he’s in love with Buck from 800 miles away. AKA The Birding Fic and honestly I’m obsessed this is so beautiful. Also the artwork in this is STUNNING! So special shout out to @betanoiz for that. 

the bigger they are (the harder they fall) by @chronicowboy | T | 6k

This is how 8x18 should have gone. Buck and Eddie get trapped in the rubble together and finally confess a few things to eachother. 

[sw5w]

Battle Droids Activate

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:49:20

[thewritingfairy]

↪ 14. chaos and Bruce's guilt

PREV PART  trigger warning: medical + physical + emotional neglect, vague background to your mama and Bruce, thoughts of death, chaotic (because I got too many ideas) filler   main m.list       series m.list

You’re glad Bruce has your phone, because that means no one can bother you while Maria and you are having a sleepover, finishing schoolwork, prepping for university entrance exams and practising for the talent show.

This gives you a sense of freedom you could never feel at the manor, even with you helping Maria with her chores, even with you baking for the family and making trail snacks for their family party this weekend. “Have you two already decided what you wanted to do for the talent show?” mama Angelica asks, taking a bite of one of your chocolate cupcakes while staring at you two intensely.

“...yes and no,” Maria admits, scratching her head slightly. Her mama deadpans, and Maria rushes to explain. “well, we have decided that I will sing and that (Name) will play the piano but we’ve yet to decide what song.”

You giggle as mama Angelica sighs, it was clear she wants you two to be prepped for the talent show, and it’s already in two weeks! “We could do forest green by why mona,” you suggest, tasting some of the baking batter. “you already sing that song continuously, I’ll just need to learn it on the piano only version, or make a piano only version.”

“Or we can do family line by Conan Grey,” Maria grins out, when her mama looks at her confused she explains; “it’s basically a song about a dysfunctional family and since (Name)’s youngest brother has to attend the talent show, why not kinda shame him?”

You look at her shocked, as if you couldn’t believe what she’s saying. “Maria, we are not putting my business up for everyone to speculate about.”

Maria scoffs and her mama does to. “Please everyone with function brain and eyes know you are Mr Wayne’s child,” mama Angelica says, looking disgusted when she utters the Wayne last name. “nobody says anything to you but they still talk. Waiting for you to break, waiting for you to shatter and air everything out.”

Her words seem unreal, and it brings you back to all the time people stared at you at graduations, at award shows, as if they are waiting for you to break and cry. Something that always kept you from doing so, you never cried in public, you never showed weakness, ensuring that the Wayne family name wouldn’t be tainted. And after Jason’s attack you did everything you could to separate yourself from the Wayne family to the point your father’s last name became an open secret. A secret no one spread, but a secret everyone learned eventually.

You don’t mind when people realise you are a Wayne, no it gives you privileges. But when they realise how your family disregards you, how your family hates you with a burning passion their attention turns into pity. Pity yet no one speaks out, pity yet no one reported your family when you didn’t go to school for almost year.

No one reported your family, no matter how dull your eyes got, how ill you got. They didn’t question it when you turned up with a medical emancipation. No, no one questions your disconnect to the Wayne family.

Most of Gotham knew your mother, they knew what a shining light she was. A shining light that did what she had to, and it made people believe that’s why the Wayne’s disregarded you. With all the fire in your body you defend your mother, but when people speak terribly about the Wayne’s you let it go.

Perhaps with their current behaviour it is time to make waves, it’s time to break the perfect picture. It’s time to destroy a small fragment of Bruce’s reputation, besides if a simple cover of a song can do that, doesn’t it mean that his reputation was never stable to begin with?

“Let’s do family lines then,” you agree, your eyes locking with Maria’s. “but I think it would send a message if I was the one singing.”

“Good thing I can play the piano as well.”

The sleepover with Maria was exactly what you needed after your family’s strange behaviour. It’s exactly what you need to calm your thoughts, to ensure that nothing goes wrong with you for a while.

You can’t handle their presence anymore, the minute you see your family you panic. You grow anxious, and rage fills your body the second you see Bruce.

It brings your pain up, it brings all your distress over the years back to the forefront of your mind. It makes you wonder if you had died in your mothers arm, if you would be happier? If you would be near your mama, if you would be in her arms? If your ancestors would’ve greeted you with open arms, if your ancestors would whisper sweet nothings to you as Maria’s grandma does to her and to you.

Maria’s family accepts you as one of their own, but no matter their kindness you cannot help but wonder how your life would have been if you died when you had your first medical flare up. You can’t help but wonder what would have happened if your mother had been alive. Would Bruce still learn that you are his child? Would he still take you under his wing, would he have treated you the way he has done now? Or would your mother have knocked sense into him?

Would your mother curse him out if she could?

Would your mother let you return to the manor if she knew how much it harmed you? How much it chips at your soul?

Bruce knows the answer to this, while he doesn’t remember your mother clearly, he remembers her core values. She adored family, she adored children, something that helped with her bonding with Dick. But she disappeared, she disappeared the day Bruce broke up with her. For Bruce the relationship with your mother had just been a cover for the suspicion surrounding his nightly activities, he just used your mother to solidify his position as a playboy with no regard for women.

But your mama could see through his disguise, she could see through what he pretended to be. And he truly fell in love with her, which hurt him even more was your mother’s face. How it went from shining brightly to falling within seconds.

If he had known she was pregnant with you at the time he would like the think he wouldn’t have broken up with her.

But his past regrets will fix nothing, you’ve made that clear. You’ve told him that his chances have been given and he never took them.

You’ve told him that you want nothing to do with them anymore, yet when Damian told him that you’re at this Maria’s house his heart broke.

He still feels his selfishness gnaw at him, that he wants, no needs, to keep you in his embrace.

There’s still a bit of hope in him that this is just you venting your anger, that once you’ve calmed down that you’ll let him fix everything.

And if you don’t?

Well he doesn’t mind drugging you if that means you staying. If that means you’ll give them, him, a chance.

NEXT PART  I know this one was chaotic, I just needed these two parts out of my system. (Name) is basically deciding if they want to go on the extreme route or not, and the talent show, I forgot I wrote that in so I want to get that out of the way I'll either make the talent show a side chapter and also make a side chapter for Bruce and your bio mom but idk yet.

taglist CLOSED!: @prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue, @bunniotomia, @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @princessbonnie-bell, @seemee3, @pix-stuff, @venomsvl, @amber-content, @stove-top96, @frank-vanderboom, @leeiasure, @1abi, @shadowytravelerlover, @chericia, @lithiumval, @lingxio, @cssammyyarts, @marsmabe, @foolishseven, @kore-of-the-underworld, @bunbunboysworld, @homeless-clown, @miashico, @alwaysholymilkshake, @1cxndy, @kittzu, @rtyuy1346, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @artistwithcreativeburnout, @alishii, @vanessa-boo, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @91-kya, @ryuushou, @jjsmeowthie, @justthere1956, @depressed--therapist, @xzmickeyzx, @cheappremingerfromdelululand, @plsfckmedxddy, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @trashlaternfish360, @leogf, @dirtydiavolo, @lilyalone, @welpthisisboring, @kenman00001, @nxdxsworld, @icefox8155, @ironsaladwitch, @holderoflostmemories, @asillysimp, @wisefuncherryblossom, @eyeless-kun, @marina27826, @muggleloveralways, @ironsaladwitch, @shyenemyperson, @iamaunknownsecret

[yzzart]

Hii, I just watched the anime and I was obsessed with Dante's demonic form 👀 could you write something that has him in this transformation? I trust your creativity!

⋆˚࿔ ARM ON FIRE, VEINS BURNING RED..! ── HEADCANONS

୭˚. ᵎᵎ content warnings: references to anime, mention of Devil Trigger and Enzo, reader making puns, light content.

⭑.ᐟ Okay, you should start getting used to, it seemed, your boyfriend's new appearance; — or rather, transformation — it was merely a matter of keeping calm. — Acting like the most normal thing that could happen; and you really took your little “goal” seriously.

⤷ Of course, your boyfriend, now nearly 3 meters tall, besides the huge red wings and horns, was still the same; nothing had changed. — Well, just his temper, but sometimes. — He continued with his terrible jokes, that was the focus.

⭑.ᐟ It was all kind of new to him; Dante didn't know how to properly control or learn to resist his transformation; however, it wouldn't be that complicated, it could take time, obviously, but he wouldn't stop delving deeper. — you, too, would join in during his “learning” — And, honestly, that damn hunter was enjoying it.

⤷ He didn't mind you comparing him to that red bird from “Angry Birds,” because of his reddish and black coloring; and, to make matters worse, Enzo laughed with tears in his eyes, repeating your words. — Oh, he was dating a comedian and didn't know it.

⭑.ᐟ Whenever there was a chance, Dante would poke you, caress you, with his big wings; after gaining your attention, he would welcome her, embrace your body, keeping you as close to him as possible. — He liked doing this, more than he should, actually. — You had never felt so much safety, care, security in your life; never at all.

⤷ Dante had no idea — it was on purpose, and you knew it — of the size he had become during his transformation; he acted as if nothing had changed, not his weight, his height, nothing. — So, it was normal that, while his devil trigger was activated, your boyfriend covered your body with his long, strong arms, squeezing your skin with his claws, accompanied by his wings; by the gods, you had disappeared among that demon. — It was as if you were a simple and mere plush toy.

⭑.ᐟ Dante felt a little strange, perhaps, desolate; although he enjoyed the new adrenaline, learning to have fun with his skills, he couldn't help but feel that unusual, unusual feeling in his chest. — In few situations, he could be honest, sincere with his own feelings; something he also learned to deal with. — He didn't want to show it to anyone, he hated feeling so vulnerable.

⤷ However, that half-demon could not, nor would he dare, lie to you; nor let things pass under your nose. — His eyes, now that had obtained a yellowish coloration, together with an orange one, reflecting lava, conveyed his true thoughts.

⭑.ᐟ Oh, if Dante thinks he's earned the title of greatest amateur comedian or best punner — a title he invented — he's finally gained a competitor; you've elevated your creativity since his first devil trigger.

⤷ Come on, he was losing his biggest role and profession of his life; it sounded so ridiculous, but Dante took it seriously. — Even Enzo started to cheer, laughing at your puns.

“Did you know that demons love's first class? They say it’s devilish luxurious!” — Dante wondered how he hadn’t thought of this before.

“Why don’t demons need jet fuel?” — You questioned, trying to contain your laughter, biting your lips, like a child planning a prank; Dante, tilting his horns towards you, knew what was coming.

“Why, cutie?” — ​​His tone of voice, a little altered, more hoarse and serious, exclaimed in your ears.

“Cause’ they run on pure evil energy..!”

“Please, stop trying to steal my work.”

[beaureveries]

ONE SHOT : YOU OVER ANYONE

Dallas Wings paige x Golden State Valkyries azzi

trigger : language, a lil angst and protective P

I loved writing this one!

——————————————————————————

It was already the kind of game people would talk about for weeks.

Dallas Wings vs Golden State Valkyries

Bueckers vs Fudd.

The headlines wrote themselves.

Paige wasn’t some rookie sensation anymore. She’d done the rising star thing, the viral highlights, the postgame interviews with practiced smirks. This was her league now. Her team. Her house.

And the Valkyries had the audacity to bring Azzi into it.

It was a battle from tip-off. Neither of them let up. Paige running the show—orchestrating plays, sharp passes, occasional kill shots from three. Azzi… well. She was Azzi. Moving like poetry, jumper pure, soft flick of the wrist, making defenders bite on fakes like she’d choreographed it herself.

They didn’t talk. Didn’t have to. The game was the conversation.

But somewhere in the middle of the third, it stopped being fun.

Because Azzi caught fire. Everything falling. Thirty points deep by the time they hit overtime. And the home crowd? They were starting to shift. Cheering for good basketball, even if it was by the other team’s hand.

And Arike? Paige saw it boiling under the surface—that look. Competitive, sharp, but frustrated. Her shots weren’t landing. The attention wasn’t on her. It was on Azzi.

Paige clocked it early but didn’t have time to manage it. Overtime was already here. Legs aching, the crowd standing, the noise of playoff-level tension building in her throat.

Then it happened.

Azzi caught a swing pass on the wing. Routine, normal. One dribble to gather, ready to pull another midrange fade she’d been hitting all game—

CRASH.

Arike. Full speed, shoulder first. Bodying through like she was tackling someone instead of contesting a shot. The contact sent Azzi sideways, her foot catching wrong, ankle bending, skin hitting hardwood with a sharp slap.

Whistle. Foul.

Azzi curled slightly around her ankle, breathing sharp through her nose, trying not to show it but—Paige knew.

The noise of the crowd blurred into a low hum for Paige. Everything else—the ref’s whistle, the footsteps, the announcer in her ear all gone.

Her legs moved before her brain did. She was across the court in three strides, ignoring her bench, ignoring her coach, ignoring everything but the girl curled around her ankle like she was trying not to show how bad it was.

“You good?” Paige’s voice was soft, but it cut like glass.

Azzi nodded, jaw clenched. “Yeah.. I’m good.”

She wasn’t. Paige could see it in the way her hand trembled slightly on her knee. Could see it in the way she wasn’t looking at anyone but her.

And then came Arike’s voice.

“Yo, my bad—I wasn’t trying to do that,” Arike said, breathless, arms out, frustrated but not apologetic enough.

Paige didn’t even look at her. Not yet.

“It’s overtime” Arike said quickly, like that explained everything. “I’m just trying to make us win, alright? You know how this goes.”

Paige finally stood up, slow. Real slow. Shoulders square. Face blank.

“Arike.”

That’s all she said.

But everyone felt it.

Paige didn’t care that Arike had years on her. Didn’t matter that she was a vet, a star, a face of the franchise before Paige ever touched a W jersey. Right now? None of that mattered.

Not when it came to Azzi. Paige didn’t care if she burned every bridge in that arena. Respect was earned—but loyalty was chosen.

And Azzi?

Azzi was always the choice.

Paige met her teammate’s eyes—ice cold, controlled rage simmering just under the surface.

“You don’t put her on the floor.”

Arike tried to continue to defend herself . “Paige—

“You don’t touch her.” Paige cut in, sharper now. “Not like that. Not on accident. Not in the heat of the moment. Not ever.”

Silence.

The ref was waiting to hand Azzi the ball for free throws. The crowd could sense something happening that wasn’t part of the game plan.

Azzi shifted, tugging at Paige’s jersey from the floor, voice soft. “P…”

But Paige wasn’t listening to anyone but her own pulse hammering behind her ribs.

She didn’t care about team meetings. Didn’t care about what the coaching staff would say later. Didn’t care that she was in front of thousands, on live TV, standing against her own squad.

She’d choose Azzi every single time.

And that was the part nobody understood yet.

➽──────────────❥

The horn blared, Dallas winning by six in overtime, the whole arena on its feet. Teammates threw their hands up, coaches shouted, fans screamed—

And Paige didn’t move.

Didn’t join the team huddle. Didn’t even look toward the bench.

She was already locked in on the other sideline.

Azzi was sitting stiff at the end of the Valkyries bench, trainers crouched in front of her, unlacing her shoe, checking her ankle, tension written across her whole face.

Paige was already walking. Straight across the court. Straight past the handshake line. Like gravity had shifted and Azzi was the only center left in the world.

“She’s going” Dijonai muttered behind her, not surprised, just resigned, adjusting her jersey as she jogged toward the handshake line. “Let her.”

Arike didn’t say a word—jaw tight, frustration simmering with something that looked like guilt—but she didn’t stop her, either.

None of them did.

They knew.

Azzi looked up just as Paige crouched in front of her, blocking the noise, the cameras, the world.

“I’m fine,” Azzi said immediately, too fast, too automatic, like she didn’t believe it herself.

“Don’t lie to me” Paige said, voice steady, low, just for her.

The cameras zoomed in, catching the moment like sharks circling, but none of them mattered—not here, not now.

One of the Valkyries rookies shifted awkwardly, glancing at the trainers. Someone from Dallas glanced toward Paige like we should probably keep it moving, but Lyss was already sliding over, planting herself right in the camera’s path like a bodyguard. Subtle. On purpose.

They didn’t owe anyone explanations.

“You’re wild for this,” Dijonai whispered as she passed by, but it wasn’t angry—it was almost fond. They knew. Paige might’ve been cold-blooded on the court, but with her? Soft every time.

Paige touched Azzi’s knee gently, grounding her. “I’ve got you. You hear me?”

Azzi nodded, blinking fast, fighting the sting behind her eyes.

Another call came from the Dallas sideline: “P! Let’s go!”

Paige stood, slow, gave Azzi’s leg one last squeeze.

“I’ll see you after okay?” Paige reassured Azzi who gave a slow nod.

Paige slowly walked back to her team, Dijonai smirked as they fell into step. “Messy.”

Paige didn’t even flinch. “Necessary.”

No one argued.

Paige didn’t wait for the media. Didn’t wait for the locker room debrief. Didn’t wait for coaches. As soon as she was out of uniform, she was gone—cutting through the back tunnels of the arena like she owned the place.

By the time she found the Valkyries hallway, her heart was pounding harder than it had during overtime.

Azzi was sitting on a folding chair just outside their locker room, leg up, ankle wrapped, scrolling through her phone like she was fine.

She wasn’t fine.

She looked up the second she heard footsteps, like she knew it was Paige before she even saw her.

Paige stopped in front of her, jaw tight. “You should be in there. With ice. With trainers. With—”

“Relax,” Azzi said, rolling her eyes but not meaning it. “I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that, and you keep lying.”

Azzi sighed, phone dropping into her lap. “P…”

“No.” Paige ran a hand through her hair, frustrated—not angry at Azzi, just… everything. “Do you know what that looked like from my angle? Do you know how bad that could’ve been?”

“It wasn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

Azzi didn’t say anything. Paige took a breath, sharp and shaky, like she was actively trying to keep it together.

“For a second I thought you were gonna stay down,” Paige admitted quietly, eyes flicking to the floor. “Like really stay down.”

That hit harder than Azzi wanted it to. The annoyance cracked into something softer, guiltier.

“I didn’t expect you to do that,” Azzi said finally, voice lower now, honest. “In front of everyone.”

Paige didn’t move. Just stared at her like of course I did.

“I didn’t care.” Paige said simply, steady.

“I know you didn’t,” Azzi whispered. She looked down at her wrapped ankle, then back up, her gaze soft now, but serious. “And I’m not gonna sit here and act like that didn’t—mean something to me. ’Cause it did.”

Paige blinked, caught off guard by the softness in Azzi’s voice.

“But,” Azzi added, eyes narrowing just a little, “I need you to promise me you won’t pull reckless stunts like that again. Not like that. Not storming across the whole court with cameras in your face, throwing your whole career at risk.”

Silence.

“I get it.” Azzi continued, softer now. “I really do. And it’s not that I don’t want you fighting for me.”

“I just—I don’t want you getting caught in the wreckage when I’m the one who took the hit.”

Paige’s throat worked around the lump building there. She didn’t trust herself to say anything yet.

“I’m not saying don’t care,” Azzi added, voice gentle now, like she knew Paige too well, like she could feel how tense she was. “You care. That’s why I…” She trailed off for a second, then smiled faintly. “That’s why I love you, dummy.”

The word hit Paige’s chest like a clean shot to the ribs.

“But I don’t need you losing your head and blowing up your whole image for me, alright?” Azzi finished, steady but still soft. “Be mad. Be protective. Just be smart about it.”

Paige let out a slow, heavy breath, nodding once, eyes finally meeting hers again. “You’re asking a lot.”

“I know,” Azzi said, lips twitching into that tiny, infuriating smile. “That’s the risk you took falling for me.”

Paige let out a sharp exhale—half-laugh, half-sigh—running a frustrated hand through her hair again. “God, you’re annoying.”

“Unfortunately for you,” Azzi teased, hand curling gently around Paige’s hoodie sleeve, “you’re stuck with me.”

Paige looked at her for a beat, tension finally unraveling into something tender beneath it all. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I’m stuck.”

Azzi tugged on the sleeve, coaxing her forward, until Paige leaned in closer, their foreheads resting together like they’d done this a thousand times before. Familiar. Necessary.

“I mean it,” Azzi whispered. “Next time, pause. Just for a second. Think.”

Paige nodded slowly. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t heavy anymore. It was steady. Safe.

“I really scared you, huh?” Azzi finally whispered, thumb brushing absent over Paige’s wrist.

Paige closed her eyes. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Azzi smiled, soft and real. “Deal. If you promise not to get ejected for fighting next time.”

Paige cracked a smile too. “No promises.”

Azzi laughed, and for the first time since that hit, Paige actually let herself breathe.

They were gonna be alright.

➽──────────────❥

The cool night air was thick with leftover adrenaline as Paige helped Azzi through the tunnel exit, her hand steady on Azzi’s lower back like muscle memory.

Neither of them were talking much—Paige still too wired from the game, from the hit, from everything. Azzi letting her be.

But as soon as they turned the corner, there she was Arike—leaning against the concrete wall, hoodie up, arms crossed, waiting like she’d been there for a minute.

Paige stopped on instinct, her body going tense, but Azzi didn’t miss the way Arike looked… different. Not defensive. Not proud. Just… regretful.

Arike glanced at Azzi first. “Yo.”

Azzi blinked, surprised. “Hey.”

Arike pushed off the wall slowly, lifting both hands in front of her like I’m not here for drama. “I was waiting. Just… wanted to say something.”

Paige’s arm tensed around Azzi’s waist, but she didn’t say a word yet. She just watched.

Arike sighed through her nose. “I was outta pocket. Overtime, emotions running high, stupid play. I shouldn’t have come at you like that, especially knowing who you are to P.” Her eyes flicked to Paige for a second, then back to Azzi. “That’s on me.”

Azzi nodded, letting the words sit for a beat. “I appreciate that. Seriously.”

Arike shook her head, frustrated at herself. “You didn’t deserve that. I let the game get ahead of me.”

Finally, Paige spoke, softer than before. “You didn’t have to wait out here.”

Arike glanced at her again, something like guilt flickering behind her eyes. “Nah. I did. ’Cause I needed you to know—I wasn’t trying to hurt her. I got caught up. And I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Paige exhaled, tension in her jaw easing slightly. “You’re better than that.”

“I know” Arike admitted. “Won’t happen again.”

It wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t for show. It was real.

Paige nodded once. “Alright.”

Another pause.

“I didn’t mean to mess things up,” Arike added, quieter now. “We’re all on the same side. Just didn’t play like it tonight.”

That was the thing about Arike—confident, loud, relentless on the court—but she could own her mistakes too. And right now, Paige could see it plain as day: she felt bad. Not just for Azzi—but for putting Paige in that spot.

Paige ran a hand down her face, the fight draining out of her chest. “You know I got her.”

Arike smiled faintly. “Would’ve been worried if you didn’t.”

That finally cracked a small smile from Paige too. Brief, but it was there.

Azzi leaned into Paige slightly, feeling the tension break around them like something brittle finally giving way.

“We’re good?” Arike asked, looking mostly at Paige now.

Paige nodded, steady this time. “We’re good.”

Arike nodded back. “Safe travels, Azzi. I’ll catch you around.”

With that, Arike headed back toward the Wings locker room, shoulders loose, guilt left behind, respect intact.

As soon as she disappeared, Azzi glanced up at Paige, teasing. “Look at you, Miss standing on business.”

Paige rolled her eyes, smiling now for real. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

Azzi bumped her hip gently into Paige’s. “I like it.”

Paige wrapped her arm around her waist again, guiding her toward the car. “Only for you.”

Azzi grinned. “Lucky me.”

[msfantasy-comics]

The Rescue Romance

Jason Todd x Civilian!Reader

Summary: A head cannon in which Y/n saves Red Hood from the Joker. Sparking a strong bond and romantic connection between them.

The night it all began

This isn’t how being a hero works.

Laying limp on the roof top floor as the joker goes toe to toe with an axe wilding civilian.

Being saved by a pyjama wearing normie, who obviously has zero combat training.

Red Hood is a highly trained vigilante, mentored by non-other than Batman himself.

Yet Jason continues to lay battered and bruised on the floor, staring up in aw as the girl in a billowing night gown, flails, thrashes and swings sporadically in desperation to save his life.

The Joker continues to evade her clumsy swings with panicked effort as the she just barely misses the villain.

The Joker laughs hysterically - absolutely bemused by a civilian helping a self proclaimed helpless hero.

Joker finds a break between your ferocious swings and escapes through the fire escape - finally letting you calm down.

You stumble backwards a little horrified at the direction your night had led you.

Staggering your way back to Red Hood your jelly knees give out as the adrenaline quickly fleets.

Nerves fried, your hands shake as the anxiety swallows you up.

You crash to the floor as your ragged breathing blurs your vision.

Y/n: “I dunno how you do this every night… that was horrifying.”

Jason’s snide remarks are caught in his throat as he continues to stare at you in aw.

The ferocity and desperation he saw in you to save him.

He laid helplessly with no hope of escaping his doom.

No hope that a hooded hero would come save him… again.

And there you were, night gown blowing through the wind like a majestic heros cape.

You fought tirelessly, knowing it might be your last moment.

Jason saw your determination.

That sort of feeling of intense gratitude sparked a burnt out feeling in his heart.

Admiration?

It’s certainly something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Y/n: “Do you have like a panic button or something?”

Redhood: “Rip my face plate off quickly, it’ll trigger a distress signal.”

He waits in bated breath, keen to see your reaction at his secret identity is revealed.

Only for his face plate to be ripped from his mask whilst your eyes remain screwed shut.

Redhood: “Aren’t ya gonna look?”

Your sweet head shakes in refusal.

God, you are indeed interesting.

You place your hand back on his laying figure, ensuring the Redhood is still breathing.

He feels your trembling hand on his cheek.

Interesting… for such a frighten thing, you sure acted brave.

His eyes drink in your features.

Redhood: “thank you for saving my life.”

He’s heard many give him thanks, but he hasn’t had to give thanks for quite some time.

[whxre-bxby]

Player 001 (Young-il) x Reader

"Poor Little Y/N..."

My attraction to older men fuels the creativity within me to write

Oneshot - angst, death, blood, silent attraction, romantic feelings Masterlist

When Gi-hun decides to rebel against the guards and marches out of the player's room with his small army, you join them. Innocent, caring little Y/N, who's never held a gun in her life nor seen one before she ended up in these games, bravely sucks up her fear of dying and breaks the rules by exiting with the armed players. Among those are Young-il and other people you trust now.

You go because your fear of losing them and watching not a single one of them return is far worse than your instinctive fear of death.

Lovely, selfless Y/N who holds in her tears and forces her trembling hands to calm down while aiming her weapon at guards and pulling the trigger.

After leaving the stairs on which your group has been ambushed, you make it to a corridor when Gi-hun and Jung-bae leave you behind to advance further into this hellhole of a place.

You don't like splitting up but you can't stop them, so you stay with the group, continuing to help them through the gunfight. But then Young-il shouts that he is going after them and needs two people. Young-il, who's been a trusted member since you all met him after the first game. The man who pulled you into a room with him when the voice announced the number 2 during Round-And-Round, saving you without hesitation.

The man who insisted you take his pillow to hug at night because you couldn't fall asleep without the comfort of clutching something against you. Even though you kindly rejected his offer, he didn't take no for an answer and didn't leave the side of your bed until he was sure you accepted his gift and were as comfortable as you could be in this place.

So of course, you volunteer to go with him, as do two other men. He glances at them before his gaze rests on you a little too long, and you can see the gears of thought turning in his head. His expression isn't so stern and tense anymore and you watch his eyes soften as his head slowly leans back against the wall.

"No...not you, Y/N..." he says, his voice no longer loud, before waving the two men over to him and leaving with them. His words stung you deeply. You didn't understand why he said that to you. Oh, only if you knew he was going to betray the two good players he brought with him...

Brave and dedicated Y/N, who feels it's been to long since she's heard from either Gi-hun's team or Young-il's, so she runs after them, towards the control room. The sound of distant gunshots has your kind little heart racing with adrenaline. The urge to help and protect being stronger than your will to live.

What life would it be if you knew you could have helped, but didn't? What if they all died while you would cowardly wait and hide. You would be tortured by those thoughts forever.

Fast but scared Y/N, who sprints through the cold-coloured hallways and up levels of stairs, past dead guards and over puddles of blood because as long as you haven't found your friends' dead bodies, you have a reason to live and fight on.

Close gunshots no longer scare you. It could be your team firing them. But then you reach the first proper obstacle. The two players who went with Young-il were dead and their bodies pierced by bullets. The sight startles you, but you've seen this before. As long as it's not one of the other three, you can live with it. You have to. So you continue up the stairs, desperately wanting to find someone you know for your comfort and safety.

Shocked yet relieved Y/N who finds Young-il on the other side of the stairs, gun in hand but body slumped on the ground and tracksuit splattered with blood.

Such a good heart you have... immediately running to his side and checking up on him. He seems to be fine, though you can't be sure until you know where he's been hurt.

Silly you, that blood isn't his.

You don't even pay attention to the confused and unexpected look in his eyes. Oh, he did not expect anyone to find him now. He wasn't sure what to say or how to act anymore. Young-il thought his time of pretending to be Player 001 had come to an end. But he had to keep up the act in front of you right? Right?

He couldn't. It all happened so fast, he could just sit back and watch you hug him before you search for a wound to explain the bloodstains. Your face painted in great worry and distress. Your commitment to improving his wellbeing astounded him.

But the dream-like moment didn't last long and was canonically interrupted when footsteps were heard rushing down the other flight of stairs, towards the two of you.

Young-il had no reason to fear them. But you, who at this point were frightened by the very sight of them, made the alarm in your head start ringing. You abruptly turned around, facing them instead of the face you found great comfort in.

Young-il, who suddenly felt his heart drop deep into his gut when he realised the danger you could be in now.

Brave but teary-eyed Y/N, who sits on her heels in front of her friend, attempting to shield him while shouting at them to stop.

Young-il, who panics, wanting to move you behind him while attempting to wave the guards away, or at least not to open fire. But then it happens. The sound of a gunshot echoes through the cold walls and before either of you can process anything, the impact the bullet caused, had your body falling back. You land next to him, head supported against the wall and lock eyes with Young-il. A look of wide-eyed shock takes over his expression and he can only watch the consequences of his actions unfold before him.

Your trembling arms reach out for him, but not for help. You're still trying to save him, but your attempts are weak. Another harsh bang rings in both your ears and that does it. As the second bullet buries itself deep in your flesh, having pierced through vital organs, the light in your eyes vanishes and your body goes limp next to him.

Young-il can't move. You, the only person who's shown this kind of care for him in years, are now dead because of him and his actions. He made you trust him and now he had to watch you pay the price for his mistake. He should have never shown you any attention.

Poor little Y/N... your pretty body has failed you. But it was your heart that killed you.

Yes, I know. Tragic. Sorry. I'm sure you'll survive in other fics.

It's past midnight but fuck it I'm posting it.

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

✧✦✧ Chapter 3 ✧✦✧

Hello Father, Die

Warning this part contains: Cursing, Hallucinations (Schizophrenia maybe), mentions and descriptions of a noose, Murderous and Violent thoughts, Trauma Triggers (MC's), Dark Themes(not the settings btw) and Typos&Badwriting Combo.

Note: a bit long fic that was supposed to be short, this is more of the relationship between Bruce and MC as well as a special pov from someone after this it'll be short shots with the rest of the family unless-

MASTERLIST Pages ↻ 2 , 4....➣

Now Playing

↻◁ ||▷↺Sucker - Markus King (Arcane) ılıılıılılılıılıılı

✧✦✧✦✧

✧✦✧✦✧

It's suffocating.......

Everything is choking me.....

Death clings to me like my own skin as I walk along the bloody trench I dig by myself.

Every hand from my past and other life reaches out and tugs onto my skin and soul begging for another chance.

but not this time.

My light at the end of this long unwinding tunnel is just beyond reach.

I won't stop until I get what I want, I won't until I get what I deserve.

As the stormy night passes by Gotham, I wake up to my new bed that Alfred prepared me last night.

I begged Alfred to let me stay near him so he gave in and fixed up a guest room near his own quarters, a good decision on my part that's for sure.

A room far away from my old bedroom and a safer one closer to Alfred, a slight change that I hope won't fuck up the reset.

Looking around I observe the barren room and walls, just a few pieces of furniture, a bed, a shelf, and a door to a medium size toilet and bathroom.

'Better get fixed up, We're hungry' they poke my back as I see a towel placed conveniently by the knob of the open bathroom door.

Nodding my head as I hummed in agreement before entering and closing the door.

✦✧✦

Heading out, I quickly trace back my way into the kitchen and see Alfred whipping up something on the marbled counter with a few cups and bowls scattered around yet in an organized and clean manner.

Walking up I stare at the ingredients on what I could guess would be the breakfast for the other one inhabiting this 'house'.

I see them peek out their head from the corner of the counter and poke the bowls pretending to be like a cat while words scribble at the ingredients like 'yummy' or 'bleugh-'

I stood at the ledge since I was back to being my kid size, only my eyes reaching the top of the surface and silently watching Alfred prepare, it didn't take him less than a minute to notice me but I could see him slightly tensing when he look into the corner of his eyes.

'Never the jumpiest in the family before' they say as tilt their head behind Alfred's shoulder as the word 'Jumpy' flashes at the back of the butler's form.

"Good morning, Mr. Alfred". I quietly said to him as I shifted my attention to the whirling electric mixers that were mixing the pancake batter.

"Good morning as well Young Master". He returned my greetings before turning the mixer and properly faced me.

"May I ask hold long have you been waiting there?". He wonders as he picks up the metal bowl and turns to fire up the stove.

"More than 5 minutes, I'm used to waking up early Mr. Alfred". I tell him as I observe him, hearing him hum before I continue to watch him and get lost in my daydream.

'Since I missed meeting Bruce I'd wonder when he'll pop up now' I wondered before a loud scratching record screech on my ear made me wince and the hairs on my neck stood up as I heard them whisper frantically.

'He's here! run run run run run runrunrunrunRUNRUNRUN GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY-!' They scream and yell as their voice pounded on the walls and the shadows swirl around the room I see their polished leather shoes rounding the entryway in the corner of my eye then everything vanishes by the sound of his voice.

"Alfred, Is -oh". I hear him behind me as I watch Alfred side-eye my form before moving his sight to the figure behind me who by the sound of his reaction probably notices me quickly.

"Good morning Master Bruce, Breakfast shall be done in 10 minutes but for now-". He greets him slowly moving towards me and lays a hand on my shoulder.

"I believe you have someone who needs your attention this morning". Alfred finishes -his words making us scoff in my head- as he gently turns me to look at 'him'.

'Traitor' they snarl at Aflred before hiding behind me with a swish 'His Attention? let's see how long that fucking last' they grumble as they wrap their arms around my waist.

Finally looking at him I fought within myself not to jump on his face and slap the daylights out of him-

Many things are scribbled on his face, his whole features are crudely crossed out, large and pointy horns stood above his head longer than the ones on his cowl, a large drawing of a sick grin over his mouth and crosses on his eyes as many things, horrible things floated around him like a halo yet a big fucking 'SUCKER' was written behind his head as I see 'them' perched on his shoulders tying what looks to be a large noose around his neck.

'Hello Father' they giggled before their voice venomously spit out 'Die' as they pulled the rope up and-'

Quickly blinking it away I stare back at him again not saying a thing with a light tired frown on my face, studying his face one more time as I move my eyes to his also tired ones that have a little bit of eyebags under, his wrinkled skin on his forehead and corner of the eye despite being on his younger adult version.

'Guess trauma is a motherfucker'

I look away from him and greet him quietly not wanting to look at him no more longer than a minute.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne" I whispered and stared at Alfred's pants and the marble flooring respectively.

I hear him sigh and feel him lower down to my height as I hear him reply back a greeting.

"Hello and.......who might you be?". He asks as I peek back and see him on one of his knees as he tilts his head.

"-......- " I only stare at him before whispering my name and turn away again but move as far as I can and stand by the other side of the island and hide behind.

I can hear the two adults talk behind me but I ignore them anyway and close my eyes.

'Bruce Wayne, my biological father, my real father, he........I know in myself that he was never a 'bad' father, I knew because he cares about the rest of his ward or adopted children but in all of my life has he never gone through most of those with me'

My hands tremble as I feel them wrap theirs around mine as they whisper to me 'He's a poor sucker, let him go'.

'He wasn't abusive or anything but he never was there for me, it's either he's never enough or I was never enough, All I asked of him was to love me, I never wanted to be a robin or batgirl, I never wanted to be the best, I never wanted to be anything more but his child'

'It's fine, he can kill us again if he wants to' They said as their hands cupped my face and tilted it up I saw their face clearly and their pearly white shark smile widened on their lips.

Because We're already dead inside 

✧✦✧✦✧

✧✦✧✦✧

Hope this ain't that dark

[syluspeach]

Lemuria’s vow

Pairing: Soft!dark Sea god Rafayel x reader

Trigger warnings: Soft!dark Rafayel, monster x human, obsession, (kinda) kidnapping?, warnings are subjected to change. This is more of an introduction so don’t expect much.

+18(mdni) but no smut this chapter.

Not edited.

Centuries had slipped past since the bride of the Sea God had tragically died in his arms. All she left him was the impression of her face embedded in his memory. He tried to honor her, trying to capture her likeness in others. He went as far as to sculpt her from porcelain and marble. Sadly, whether by time or his hands, the statue would disintegrate.

Pieces chipped away either by the waves or his claws.

He couldn’t continue like this. The cold, smooth surface of his creations caused a shiver to run up his spine. No piece of marble could lay hold of her warmth. Her sweet smile was missing, her usual bright eyes, a sorrow left in their place. During fits of rage, his claws would slash through the stones, and his tail would act like a whip, cracking the unblemished surface.

As he swam away, sparing the rumble one last glance, his tears would stain his face, pearls forming as they dropped off his jaw.

He would return. He always did. Once his wrath would fade, he’d pick up the pieces left in the sand, pressing the damaged edges together. He’d cry out apologies to his love. He regretted letting his anger get the best of him. How could he treat her memory like this? His past self would have never treated art in such a way.

Using his gift of fire, he’d warm up his hands, his fingertips smoothing and shaping till he ensnared the right amount of similarity of her face into the stone. He wouldn’t rest until she was completed.

Other Lemurians would try to tear him away from his task. They were all met with the same glowing blue eyes and a booming voice that caused the water to ripple, waves forming as they reached the surface.

Even his poor aunt, Talia, couldn’t steer clear of his fury. Try as she may, she’d leave him be, disappointed with the person he had become.

In his mind, he was the same god he was before. That couldn’t be further from the truth for misery and solitude changed him into someone his bride would no longer recognize. Talia’s words echoed in his mind from time to time.

‘Should fate allow you to meet your beloved bride once more, she’ll cower at the man you have become.’

It wasn’t until one night when a storm was raging causing the waves to smack against the rocks and boats to capsize from the force of the water, did he see you again.

When pieces of wood, articles of clothing, and limp bodies began to descend deeper into the ocean, his curiosity got the best of him. Swimming towards the light, he took in the faces of those who had passed. He watched on as they disappeared into the abyss that was his home, a shadow falling over him before a body brushed against his.

Looking at the offending figure, his brows relaxed and the snarl was wiped off of his face. The sight was that of a familiar being.

His beloved bride.

You had returned to him.

His eyes blurred at the sight of you, his bottom lip trembling. With a shaky hand, he caressed the apple of your cheek. Warm. You were still warm. You were holding on, but the stillness of your body frightened him. His mind went back to the days you had died in his arms. To prevent the past from reoccurring, he needed to act quickly.

Gathering you in his arms, your body rested solely on his. He was incredibly large, his shimmering iridescent tail surpassing you in height. He was broad where you were not, hard and toned while you were soft and warm.

He watched as a couple of bubbles escaped from your parted lips. You were alive.

He was going to make sure it stayed that way.

Pressing his lips against yours, he stayed there for what seemed like forever. He feared he had fallen asleep and would be waking up any second now. He needed to savor every second.

When his eyes fluttered open and you remained in his grasp, chest rising and falling with every breath you took, he cried from happiness, tucking the crown of your head under his chin. His arms held onto you as tightly as he could, his webbed fingers digging into your skin.

You could never leave him. He lost you once, but never again. He wouldn’t survive without you and he wasn’t going to. Now that you had returned to him, it was going to stay that way.

At that very moment, he staked his claim, promising forever.

He would take you someplace no other being would be able to find you. A place that belonged to only the two of you. The grotto he had seen on one of his many nightly swims could work. Hidden behind layers of seagrass, only schools of fishes would accidentally wander in. He could come and go as he pleased, but you, you would have to adapt. You would have to learn to call it your home.

Whether out of fear or duty, you would love him just like before. He’d make sure of it.

All credits belong to @syluspeach

Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated.

[threebea]

I have started to think of the Jedi being blamed for the Fall of the Republic like blaming firefighters for wildfires.

They have been fighting fires (corruption) for years, but the fire is getting bigger and hotter and spreading farther. They're doing their best but there aren't enough of them to go everywhere there are fires. The Senate points them to where really big fires are, but sometimes it turns out they just want their property saved and there weren't that many people in the building. The Jedi still save lives but they have to look at the bigger picture and hope volunteers will put out the little fires because they simply don't have the people for every little fire even though they wish they did. The Senate starts restricting their use of water. Then an arsonist, Palpatine, is made mayor and takes control of their budget.

Dooku and the CIS start lighting fires on purpose. Palpatine let's Dooku know where the most flammable places are.

And the firefighters (Jedi) keep fighting the fire. They can't not fight the fire. People will die if they don't fight the fire. Then the government is like: there are not enough firefighters to fight the fire, but here is a large population of people we will force to fight the fire with you. You shouldn't have qualms, apparently an individual that used to work for you is the one that paid for their training so really they're your responsibility. You'll be in charge of them on the field and get to watch them die, but we control their lives and have decided they're not people so we don't have to pay them. Good deal. We are good at fighting fires.

And the Jedi can't say no because they need to stop the fire and they can't do it alone at this point. Many of the Jedi are killed in their attempts to stop the gasoline fire Dooku lights and it shows how badly they need these new people.

Luckily, the people drafted to fight with them, the clones are also good at fighting fires! It's dangerous many clones will die, but despite having no choice they stand beside the Jedi bravely. The Jedi do everything in their power to protect them. They fight alongside them and try to minimize loss.

There are a few Jedi that get overwhelmed by anger or trauma. They become arsonists themselves, but the number of those that do can be counted on one hand compared to the thousands of Jedi that continue to fight fires.

Sadly, the clones have explosives inside them that Palpatine, the mayor, has the trigger for. Just when it feels like the fire is under control and the people lighting the fires have been stopped, Palpatine sets them off.

Most of the clones are never the same. They think the Jedi had to have set off the bombs inside them, even though they would have never thought them capable of it before. Most never learn the truth. They hate the Jedi for being traitors.

Most of the firefighters die. And their families too. Their children and uncles and aunts and grandparents, and cousins even if they weren't capable of fighting fires they all get burned to death.

The mayor declares it was the firefighters lighting fires and outlaws being a firefighter.

Some of the Jedi survive. Some of them can't bring themselves to fight fires anymore. Some of them keep doing it because it's what they were trained to do. A lot of them are novices who didn't know all the best techniques, but they find their own methods to put out fires and teach others how to do it as well.

And the rebellion begins because when you see fire the logical thing to do is put it out, but all the firefighters are dead or in hiding and being a firefighter is illegal. There's no one to call so the town's people start doing it themselves, inspired by the Jedi.

This becomes extremely important when the mayor makes a device that can light entire cities on fire at the push of a button.

Anyway that's my metaphor and maybe explains my point of view when it comes to the Jedi.